14. Evelyn
14
EVELYN
F or a brief moment, I don’t understand what’s going on. Dimitri moves away from me like touching me burned him, the bathroom door slamming behind him before I even fully realize he’s gone, and I’m confused until I hear a low, stifled groan, and it hits me.
He’s getting himself off.
A room away from me, behind that closed door, my husband is jerking off. I’ve never been turned on by the thought of a man doing that before, but the moment the realization strikes, a wave of heat blooms through me, desire prickling over my skin and making me breathless.
I did this to him. Unbuttoning my dress did this to him. Dimitri Yashkov, heir to a New York crime family, movie-star gorgeous and undoubtedly a man who’s fucked half of Manhattan or more, was so desperately turned on by me that he couldn’t wait another second to relieve that desire.
It’s stunningly hot. I can feel an ache settle between my thighs, feel the silk panties that I’m wearing beneath my wedding dress cling to my skin as wetness gathers between my thighs, and I take a tentative step towards the bathroom.
I’m not going to go in. If I did, all my protests about us not touching each other on our wedding night, about us not touching each other at all , would be for nothing. I don’t doubt that Dimitri would listen to an absolute no from me, but I’m not sure that I can be trusted to summon that no right now.
Not when the thought of him bending me over the bathroom counter and flipping up my feathered skirt, plunging himself into me and giving us what we’ve both wanted ever since he kissed me makes me feel like I can’t breathe. Not when I’m more turned on than I can ever remember having been before.
I press one hand to the bodice of my dress, keeping it from slipping down as I tiptoe towards the door. In his rush, Dimitri didn’t close it all the way, and I can see through the faintest crack, just the outline of my husband in the bathroom mirror.
The sight sends another wave of heat through me. He’s still fully dressed, one hand gripping the edge of the sink hard as the other moves just below it. I can’t see what he’s doing, but that somehow makes it even more erotic, the fact that I know he’s stroking his cock just below the counter, but I can’t see it. I feel a pulse of desire between my thighs, hot need coiling in my stomach, and before I can stop myself, I reach down and slip my hand underneath my skirt.
This is a bad idea. Touching myself while spying on my new husband doing the same in the next room will do nothing other than feed this fantasy, one that I should be trying to get rid of instead. Unless?—
Maybe it will help curb the temptation. Maybe all I really need is a release, to shake off this desire and clear my head. I know I should leave, go downstairs, leave Dimitri to what he’s doing and take care of myself somewhere else—but my fingers are already slipping under the edge of my panties, and I gasp when I feel how wet I am.
I’m drenched , slick and hot, my clit already swollen. I sink my teeth into my lip to keep from making a sound as I stroke my fingers over the sensitive flesh, my knees nearly buckling at how good it feels. I can’t remember the last time I took some time for myself, the last time I had an orgasm, and I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until now. Until I start to circle my clit with my fingertips, listening to the harsh slap of flesh against flesh and my husband’s muted groans as he strokes his cock, and I can already feel myself getting close.
I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall as I rub my clit. It’s all too easy to imagine that the sounds Dimitri’s making are from him leaning over me in bed, his cock stroking in and out of me instead of his fist, that wet slap the sound of our bodies meeting again and again as we both drive each other to the edge of pleasure. That those groans are because of me, his cock thick and hard inside of me, his hands wrapped around my wrists, pinning me to the bed?—
I press one hand over my mouth, trying desperately to keep quiet as my hips arch into my hand, my body clenching on nothing as I rapidly careen towards the edge of pleasure. I peek through the crack in the door again, my wedding dress slipping down, and I catch it just in time as I see Dimitri arch forward, his face a taut grimace of pleasure in the mirror as I see a glimpse of his thick, rock-hard cock as he aims it towards the basin of the sink, his hand moving in a blur as I realize he’s coming.
He’s coming for me . He’s coming because of me, because he couldn’t wait, because I turned him on so much. The thought sends me over the edge too, and I press my lips together, clenching my teeth against a desperate moan of pleasure as I come with him on the other side of the door, my clit pulsing against my fingertips as I soak my panties with my arousal.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. I nearly sink to the floor in a pool of satin and feathers, ready to collapse from the haze of the afterglow, before I remember that Dimitri just finished, too, and that any second he’s going to come through the door. He’ll see me here, and he’ll know that I heard him. He’ll take one look at me, and know what I was doing, too. And it’s that last thought that propels me away from the door, sends me to the closet to look for a robe as I shove my wedding dress off and leave it in a pool on the floor, wrapping the soft terry cloth around me just in time as Dimitri steps out of the bathroom.
He looks astonishingly put-together, considering what I know he was doing a moment before. His suit looks smoothed out once again, his hair brushed back, his face a mask of calm. “Sorry,” he says, smiling. “I’ll go downstairs and give you some privacy. You can take a bath, shower—whatever you like. I’ll be up later.”
He turns away without another word, walking briskly towards the stairs as I watch him go.
And just like that, I’m alone again.
—
When I wake up to a dark room, the blackout curtains preventing even the smallest bit of light from coming through, I don’t remember where I am at first. The room smells strange, like cedar and juniper, and the sheets don’t feel right. Far softer than what I’m used to, with a silky duvet covering me, and a mound of feather-soft pillows.
I blink, my eyes sticky, and sit up slowly. I slept so hard that I didn’t even dream, and I rub my hands over my face, trying to clear away the fog.
And then, as I glance over and see the empty, rumpled space next to me, I remember where I am.
I’m in my new, temporary ‘home’. In my husband’s penthouse. My husband, a crime lord’s heir, and the devil I made a deal with.
A devil who tempted me more than I want to admit last night.
Dimitri left me alone, as promised, while I soaked in the bath. That was a temptation I couldn’t ignore—my little studio apartment has a tiny stall shower and no tub, and I haven’t taken a bath since the last time I stayed in a hotel for a client trip, years ago. I found a bottle of jasmine-scented bath oil, filled it with water as hot as I could stand, and soaked in the tub until my fingers started to wrinkle and the water went cold. And then I took off my makeup, did my skin care routine, and slipped into a pair of soft lounge pants and a tank top. I made sure to be in bed before Dimitri came up, so he wouldn’t get a good look at me without a bra on. I know I won’t be able to avoid that kind of thing forever, but last night, I didn’t think either one of us could handle any more temptation.
And I was right.
I pretended to be asleep when he came up, lying as far on the other side of the huge bed as I could manage, and I think he believed it. But I couldn’t fall asleep for a long time, painfully aware of the man in bed next to me, of the heat of his muscled body, the fact that I didn’t even know if he was wearing a shirt, and I was too afraid to look. I didn’t think I could handle seeing him half-undressed.
Having him that close felt like torture. Knowing that if I rolled over and touched him, he could be mine. All of the pleasure that kiss in my apartment offered was inches away, begging for me to give into it, and closing my eyes and trying to ignore it felt like the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
Now, Dimitri isn’t even here. He didn’t stay in bed until I woke up. I fumble for the remote on the nightstand that he told me opened the curtains and jab at the buttons until one works, the dark drapes sliding backwards and flooding the room with morning light as I blink rapidly.
I sit there for a long moment, trying to decide what to do, before I hear a heavy knock at the front door.
Shit !
I jump out of bed, remembering that my things are going to be delivered today. And my ‘things’ include Buttons, who Dahlia promised to make sure was carefully handed over to Dimitri’s delivery guys, and who Dimitri still doesn’t know is coming.
“Shit,” I mutter again, aloud, as I look around for the robe I left over a chair last night. From the looks of Dimitri’s penthouse, he’s either meticulously clean or has a housekeeper here every day, and I have a feeling that might be the first point of contention between us. After the fact that he’s about to find out I have a dog.
I grab the robe, throwing it on and belting it as I hurry down the stairs. I smell coffee, which momentarily distracts me, but only for a second as I see Dimitri get up from the couch, heading for the door. I scramble down the stairs, reaching the last step just as he reaches for the doorknob, squeaking out his name just in time to have it covered up by a flurry of barking.
“What the fuck ?” Dimitri takes a step back, which his delivery man takes as an invitation to come in with the first of my bags—and Buttons.
The moment Buttons sees me, he yanks on his leash so hard that he drags it out of the man’s hand, barreling towards me in a cloud of white fluff as he flings himself at me. I grab him, wrapping him up in my arms and squeezing, before I look up at Dimitri’s thunderous expression.
One of his eyebrows raises. “I assume there’s an explanation for this?”
“That I have a dog?” I venture.
Dimitri’s eyes narrow. Behind him, I see the delivery man bringing in boxes of my things, carefully avoiding looking at Dimitri. From how quickly he’s moving, I can tell that he wants to be out of here as soon as possible, and I don’t blame him.
“You didn’t think,” he says slowly, “at any point in the last two weeks, that it might have been a good idea to tell me about this?”
I bite my lip as Buttons presses closer to my legs. “Considering how you’re looking at me right now, no. I didn’t.”
Dimitri frowns. “And Gus didn’t tell me, either. Despite spending the last week with you, in your apartment, and undoubtedly seeing…this.”
“I asked him not to tell you,” I admit. “I was worried you’d react exactly like this,” I add, narrowing my own eyes at him. “And Buttons is non-negotiable.”
“Buttons.” He rolls the name over in his mouth. “I don’t have pets, Evelyn.”
“You own the building,” I point out. “You’re the heir to the Bratva . Who’s going to tell you he can’t be here?”
“ Me . I would say that he can’t be here.”
A shock of anger runs through me, and I straighten, a protective hand on the top of Buttons’ head. “Really? You’re going to tell me he has to go? Because if he goes, so do I.” I press my lips together, staring my new husband down. “Remember how you said Gus was non-negotiable? That he had to stay or you were calling the whole thing off? Well, this is my line in the sand. Buttons stays, or I’m leaving. I’ll get an annulment.”
“He’s more important than your shop?” Dimitri crosses his arms, and I see a look pass over his face, one that I can read surprisingly well. He can’t believe that he’s standing in his own home, arguing with me about this. I feel sure, based on every conversation we’ve had and my interactions with him so far, that everyone asks how high , whenever Dimitri Yashkov says jump . He can’t believe that I’m not terrified of his anger. That I’m not bending to his clear desire to not have a dog in his house.
But I’m not afraid of him. I don’t know enough about his world to know why I should be, and frankly, I like it like that. Because it lets me face him and not back down.
“If you have to ask, I know you’ve never had a pet.” I rub the top of Buttons’ head, glaring at Dimitri. “I’m not backing down on this.”
He stares at me for a long moment. “You should have told me.”
“You should have told me that I’d have a bodyguard,” I fling back. “I guess we both left some things out until it was absolutely necessary.” I smile sweetly at him. “Should I have put it in the contract?”
Dimitri glares at me, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots with frustration as he does. “I have work to do,” he says sharply, pivoting on his heel. “You can spend the day figuring out where to put all your things. My housekeeper will be by, so make sure your dog is friendly to her. And Gus will be back, too,” he adds. “He’s your permanent bodyguard for as long as this marriage lasts.”
The look that he throws me tells me that he’s hoping it won’t be all that long. He looks pissed, and I suppose, if I look at it from his perspective, I can understand why. But I don’t really care.
I’ve been uprooted. Thrown into this deal, forced to live in the same house as Dimitri, to share his bed. All because his business happened to coincide with mine, and my shop was targeted as something that could be threatened. He’s spending money to make it right, but I’ve adjusted my whole life to hold up my end of the deal.
He can manage to share space with my fucking dog.
Buttons whines as Dimitri leaves, slamming the door behind him, and I scratch him behind the ears. “He’ll get used to you,” I promise, and I go to find coffee.
An hour later, caffeinated and having eaten, I explore the penthouse a little more. As much as I miss my home, I can’t deny that Dimitri’s living space is gorgeous, and luxurious beyond anything I ever imagined. His kitchen is state-of-the-art, the view is stunning, the entertainment room at the back of the penthouse has a television that takes up the entire wall, and when I bundle up and venture outside to the balcony, I can imagine sitting out here in any other season, drinking a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, reading a book or just taking in the view.
Will I be here that long? It’s a reminder that I don’t actually know how long this marriage will go on for. My half of the deal is contingent on how long Dimitri’s father lives. Our marriage is up when Dimitri officially inherits, and his father can no longer strong-arm him into an arrangement that he doesn’t want. But Dimitri hasn’t been very clear on how long he thinks that might be, only that his father isn’t in very good health. It could be years.
I knew that when I agreed to the marriage. But now that I’m here, in Dimitri’s home, remembering last night and how hard it was to sleep next to him, I can’t help wondering if I made the right choice. If the deal that Dimitri offered me was really the miracle it appeared to be at first, or if I walked into a trap.
I still don’t think he lied to me. I think he’ll let me go, when the clock on our marriage is up. But what happens in the meantime—it all suddenly feels much more uncertain than I want it to.
When I walk back into the penthouse, Gus is in the kitchen. “I won’t be hanging around in here,” he reassures me, as Buttons bounds over to his side. Whatever Dimitri thinks of him, my dog and my bodyguard became fast friends within just a few days. “There’s enough security in this building that I don’t need to watch you twenty-four/seven. I’ll need to go with you when you leave, though. Wherever that is,” he adds firmly. “Doesn’t matter if you’re just popping out for a second or taking this guy to go pee.” He pats Buttons on the head. “Make sure I’m with you.”
Frustration wells up in my chest, but I nod. I know that fighting it isn’t going to do me any favors, and I’m not going to win that particular battle. I’m stuck with a bodyguard for the duration of this marriage, and I’m just going to have to get used to it.
That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it, though.