Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find out,” Markov says in that Russian accent that makes my belly dip. Why is he completely unconcerned? It seems he doesn’t fear my father at all.
I bite my lip, wrestling with my inner turmoil. I choose my words deliberately, weighing each one before I express it. “You asked me to trust you. And I definitely want to do that. But I can never live with myself if, because of my choices, I hurt somebody else. I don’t want you to be hurt, Markov.”
His return gaze makes my heart do a little flip-flop. He cradles my chin in his strong, capable hand. After our first encounter, it was hard to imagine he was capable of such tenderness.
“Let me worry about that. Please. Those books you read? About dominance and submission? The sex, everything that goes on in the bedroom. . . That’s only the very beginning. It’s about way more than that. In real life, it’s about establishing trust. It’s about letting things go. You don’t need to worry about your father.”
I don’t know if I can stop, but the next second, my brain short-circuits because he’s leaning in. And oh my God, I think he’s going to kiss me. I’ve never had a real kiss with a real man before, just awkward fumbles that left me wanting in the back of the high school auditorium at stupid dances.
“I love that you bite your lower lip when you’re deep in thought. I love how naturally graceful and poised you are, even when you’re sitting on my knee after getting a spanking.” My heart leaps into my throat. Then his lips touch mine, and I’m completely lost to sensation.
I am floating. The nerves in my body are teeming with need and arousal. When his lips meet mine, a delicious warmth and awareness spreads through me like molten honey, a sweet fire in my veins. He holds me to him. One arm at my back, cradling me, his other hand grasps my jaw. My hands rest on his strong, powerful shoulders. It takes me a second to realize the moan I’m hearing is mine.
I don’t know how long we kiss, but when we finally pull away, gasping, I am as pliable as warmed taffy in his hands. My heart thunders in my chest, and I forget why I protested to begin with. That kiss was everything I wanted.
“We’re going to take this slow, Vera,” he says, the slightest quirk at the corner of his lips. I don’t know if I’ve seen him smile yet, and I think if I ever do, I might tumble head over heels in love with him. But that slightest little quirk is boyishly charming and warms my heart.
I snort. “Go slow,” I repeat. “We barely know each other, and you’ve already spanked my ass and kissed me. Is that normal?”
His voice is husky. “For a husband? Yes.”
Oh, Jesus.
My stomach drops. “Get in bed,” he commands. “That alarm is going off at four forty-five, don’t forget.”
“Are you sure about that? I don’t think we need to get up at—” He gives me a firm pat on my ass and then guides me into bed.
“Bed, young lady,” he says in that warm, commanding voice that does all sorts of crazy things to me. “Have you already forgotten that you need to obey your husband? Idi v krovat. Bed.”
Obediently, I roll over and stare at the wall, adrenaline surging through me. I’m not so tired anymore.
“I don’t think I can just fall asleep like that. If you’re my husband, I need to at least look at you. Can I look at you?”
He climbs in beside me, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
“Going to fantasize yourself to sleep?” he teases seductively. “I approve of that.”
“Perhaps I will. Will you?”
“No. I’m going to tuck you in and wait until you fall asleep. Then I’ll take a quick shower and join you. Then I’ll get some sleep.”
The thought of him standing naked in the shower makes me squirm.
“You can’t survive on sleep deprivation. “
“Made it this far. “
A sudden realization makes me groan. “You heard everything I said in English when you were pretending, didn’t you?”
He nods. “Just call me Jason Bourne.”
“Jason Bourne was an assassin,” I say with a laugh. Maybe it’s my imagination, but the slightest shadow crosses his face.
“He was also skilled,” Markov says. “And I’m right here in front of you.”
“You’re a lot bigger than Jason Bourne. And he’s not a small guy. You’re impressive. Look at your shoulders. What do you bench press?”
He snorts, which is the closest thing to a laugh I’ve heard yet from him.
“Now that you’ve gotten a good chance to look at me, go to bed.”
“I really haven’t. You have tattoos everywhere. I want to see them.”