6. Erik
ERIK
I step out of the room, my hands still trembling from the encounter. Viktor's eyebrows shoot up as he takes in the scene behind me—Katarina bound on the bed, her dinner scattered across the floor.
“What the hell happened here?” Viktor pulls me into the hallway, his voice low.
I crack my neck, trying to ease the tension that's been building for hours. “She kept pushing. Trying to get under my skin with her little games.”
“Games?” Viktor crosses his arms.
“Seduction. Manipulation.” The memory of her lips wrapping around that fork makes my jaw clench. “She thought she could break my control, use it against me.”
“So you zip-tied her to the bed?” There's a hint of amusement in Viktor's tone that sets my teeth on edge.
“It was necessary.” I flex my fingers, still feeling the phantom sensation of pinning her wrists. “She needs to understand her position here. We're not playing around.”
Viktor studies my face for a long moment. “You sure that's all it was?”
“What else would it be?” I snap, but the words come out rougher than intended.
“Nothing.” Viktor holds up his hands. “Just making sure you're keeping your head straight. Can't have our best enforcer getting compromised by a pretty face.”
“I know what I'm doing.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Because the truth is, I'm not sure I do anymore, not with her.
“If you say so.” Viktor moves past me toward the room. “I've got it from here. Go get some rest.”
I nod, already turning away. But that sweet jasmine scent still clings to my clothes, and I know sleep won't come easy.
I slam the door to my quarters, yanking off my tactical vest and tossing it aside. My skin burns where she touched me, where her body had been pressed against mine. The memory of her writhing beneath me as I secured those zip-ties...
Fuck.
I strip off my clothes, my cock achingly hard. The shower starts with a blast of cold water, but I don't adjust the temperature. I need the shock to clear my head of her.
However, the icy spray does nothing to erase the image of Katarina sprawled across that bed, wrists bound above her head. The way her chest heaved with each breath. How her eyes darkened when I gripped her hips to hold her still.
My hand braces against the shower wall as the water streams down my back. I shouldn't have touched her. Shouldn't have let her get under my skin until I snapped. Now, the feel of her soft skin beneath my rough hands is burned into my memory.
The zip ties were intended as a form of punishment. Instead, seeing her restrained and at my mercy only made my need for her stronger, which was an amateur mistake. I know better than this.
I turn the water colder, letting it numb my skin. But I can still hear her sharp intake of breath when I first grabbed her, still see the challenge in her eyes even as I bound her. The way her body arched...
My cock throbs painfully. Getting physical with her was a tactical error. Now, every time I close my eyes, all I can picture is Katarina bound and waiting on that bed.
The icy water does nothing to ease my need. My cock strains against my palm as I wrap my fingers around the thick length. Images of Katarina flood my mind—her defiant green eyes, the way her chest rises with each breath, those curves pressed against me as I secured her wrists.
I stroke myself harder, faster, letting the memories fuel my release. The water pounds against my shoulders, but all I feel is the phantom sensation of her soft skin under my hands. The way she gasped when I gripped her hips. How perfectly she fit against me when I pinned her down.
My muscles tense as pressure builds. I imagine her bound and spread across that bed, waiting for me. Picture sliding those yoga pants down her long legs, exposing every inch of her. Taking what I want. Making her mine.
“Fuck,” I growl, my release hitting hard and fast. I brace myself against the shower wall as pleasure rips through me, leaving me shaking.
The evidence of my weakness washes down the drain. Shame and self-disgust follow close behind. I'm supposed to be her captor, not some hormone-driven teenager who can't control his urges. Thinking of a prisoner like this is unprofessional. Dangerous.
I slam the water off and grab a towel, roughly drying myself. The release helped clear my head, but I know it's temporary. As soon as I see her again, smell her perfume, watch those lips curve into that knowing smile...
I need to get my shit together. Fast. Because eight more hours with her might just break me completely.
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, but sleep won't come. My muscles twitch with a restless energy that won't dissipate.
Fuck this.
I throw on gym clothes and head to the private training room. The heavy bag takes the first impact of my fist. Then another. And another. Sweat drips down my back as I hammer out combinations, trying to beat her image from my mind.
Drop for pushups. One. Two. Three. But all I see are green eyes challenging me and the curve of her lips as she gives me that God-damn-knowing smile.
Back to the bag. My knuckles split despite the wraps. Good. Physical pain is better than this twisted need burning through my veins.
“Working out twice in one day? Must be serious.”
Alexi's voice cuts through the rhythm of my breathing. I don't turn around; I continue punching the bag.
“Not now, Alexi.”
“Oh, come on. I just want to chat about our lovely guest.” His tone drips with amusement. “The way you stormed out earlier after binding her up... Getting a bit obsessed, aren't we?”
My fist connects harder with the bag. “I said not now.”
“You know, for someone so controlled, she's really getting under your skin.” Alexi circles the bag, forcing me to see his smirk. “Never seen you this worked up over a woman before.”
The bag chain creaks as I slam another combination. My control hangs by a thread.
“One more word,” I growl, “and I'll use you as the punching bag instead.”
“Touchy.” Alexi raises his hands, but that knowing look remains. “Just remember that Katarina Lebedevna is not some toy to break. She's brilliant at what she does. Would be a shame to damage that mind just because you can't keep it in your pants.”
My fist twitches. The urge to wipe that smirk off his face burns through me.
I snap. In two strides, I have Alexi pinned against the concrete wall, my forearm pressed against his throat. My blood roars in my ears, every muscle coiled tight.
“What part of 'not now' didn't you understand?” I press harder, but Alexi just grins.
“See? This is exactly what I mean.” He wheezes out a laugh despite the pressure on his windpipe. “The Erik I know would never lose control like this. She's in your head, brother.”
I lean in closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Keep pushing and see what happens.”
“Ooh, scary.” Alexi wiggles his eyebrows. “But we both know you won't actually hurt me. You love your baby brother too much.”
The worst part is he's right. Even with rage coursing through my veins, I'd never seriously harm him. Alexi knows this, which is why he keeps prodding at my weak spots with that insufferable grin.
“Besides,” he continues, “someone has to keep you honest. And watching you squirm over Katarina is the most entertainment I've had in weeks.”
My grip tightens for a moment before I release him, stepping back. Without another word, I turn and walk toward the door, leaving him rubbing his throat.
“Ice that shoulder, big brother,” Alexi calls after me. “You'll need to be in top form for guard duty tomorrow!”
I don't respond, allowing the heavy gym door to slam behind me.