10. Erik
ERIK
I grip the edge of my desk, staring at the security feeds as they cycle through different areas of the compound. No sign of her. The lack of knowing exactly where Katarina is sets my teeth on edge.
My muscles coil tight as another guard passes by my office—the fourth one in ten minutes. Nikolai's doubled security means twice the eyes on her. Twice the men who could...
The pen in my hand snaps, ink bleeding across my palm. I wipe it off with sharp, angry movements.
Two days of this “freedom” arrangement. Two days of catching glimpses of her in hallways, in the gym, in the library. I never know when I'll turn a corner and find her there. The structure of guard rotations in her room gave me control, but now, she roams like a ghost, haunting me.
“Sir, Ms. Lebedev was last seen heading toward the library wing.” One of the new guards stops at my door, delivering his report.
I wave him off without looking up. The library. Of course. She'd gravitate toward books and knowledge, always analyzing, always planning. My body remembers the feel of her against that bathroom door, the way she yielded and fought all at once.
“Fuck.” I slam my fist on the desk. The security feeds blur as I imagine finding her alone between those quiet shelves. One touch, and I'd snap. One look from those defiant eyes, and I'd take her right there against the books.
I need the discipline back. The rigid schedule. This freedom was a mistake—it's destroying my control. But Nikolai insisted. Said keeping her locked up would make her more desperate to escape.
I force myself up from the desk and head to the gym. Working out always helps clear my head. The familiar weight of dumbbells in my hands ground me as I push through set after set of shoulder presses.
Sweat drips down my chest and back as I move to pull-ups. The steady burn in my muscles starts to drown out thoughts of her. Until?—
The door opens.
Katarina stands frozen in the entrance, wearing a black crop top that shows off her toned stomach and those damn yoga pants that hug every curve. Her eyes go wide as they travel across my bare chest, lingering on the Spetsnaz tattoos that mark my skin.
“I—I was going to work out.” Her voice catches, cheeks flushing pink. “I can come back later.”
My hands tighten on the pull-up bar. Every muscle in my body screams to close the distance between us. To press her against the wall and?—
I drop down, grabbing my towel to wipe the sweat from my face, allowing me a moment to lock down the surge of want that hits me at the sight of her. When I look up again, she's still there, gaze tracing the scars that cross my ribs.
The air feels thick, charged with electricity. Neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks. We're caught in this moment, both knowing we should walk away, both unable to take that first step.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and my control fractures.
“You can stay.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. “Plenty of room for both of us.”
I grab another towel, dabbing at my neck while she stands frozen in the doorway. The crop top rides up as she shifts her weight, revealing a strip of smooth skin above her waistband.
“Are you sure?” Her fingers play with the hem of her top.
I gesture toward the equipment. “Free gym.”
She hesitates another moment before walking to the stepper machine. Each step makes her hips sway, and I force myself to look away, focusing on setting up the weight bench.
The whir of the machine fills the silence as she starts her workout. I position myself on the bench, but the angle gives me a direct view of her ass in those skin-tight pants. Each step makes the material stretch and pull across her curves.
I grip the barbell harder, trying to focus on my sets. But every movement draws my eyes back to her. Sweat begins to darken the fabric on her back between her shoulder blades. A bead trails down her spine.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, my cock hardening. The thin material does nothing to hide my reaction. I shift, trying to adjust myself without being obvious, but it only makes things worse.
A soft grunt escapes her as she increases the resistance on the machine. The sound is impactful, reminding me of other noises she makes. My dick throbs painfully.
I force myself through another set, but each time I look up, all I see is her ass flexing with each step. Another groan slips out before I can stop it.
Her head turns, catching me staring. Our eyes lock. Her gaze drops to my shorts, and I watch her pupils expand, darkening with recognition. My cock pulses under her attention.
But as if she notices nothing, she turns back to the stepper, arching her back a fraction more than necessary. The move pushes her ass out, accentuating every curve. A bead of sweat rolls down her neck, disappearing beneath her top.
The bar creaks under my grip. Blood pounds in my ears as she continues her workout, each movement deliberate, designed to drive me insane. The fabric of her pants stretches thin across her thighs with every step.
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. The urge to grab her, bend her over the nearest surface, and take her right here threatens to shatter what's left of my control. I force myself through another set, metal cold against my palms, but I can't stop watching her reflection in the mirror.
She knows exactly what she's doing. Another soft grunt escapes her lips as she increases the resistance again. The sound mirrors ones I've pulled from her before, and my muscles coil tight with the need to hear more.
The bar slams back into the rack with enough force to make her jump. But she doesn't stop. If anything, her movements become more fluid and more provocative. Testing my limits. Pushing to see how far I'll let her go before I snap.
I grip the edge of the bench, knuckles white. Every cell in my body screams to close the distance between us. To remind her exactly who's in charge here. My cock strains painfully against the fabric as she gets off the stepper but bends to adjust her shoelace, giving me a perfect view of her ass.
I release a growl and close the distance in three long strides. My hand wraps around her waist, yanking her back against my chest. She gasps as my other hand finds her throat, not squeezing, just holding.
“You think you're clever, don't you?” I breathe against her ear. “Putting on this little show. Testing my control.”
My grip tightens fractionally on her waist as she squirms. The movement presses her back more firmly against my straining arousal. A small whimper escapes her lips.
“I warned you about playing games,” I growl, nipping at her earlobe. “About pushing me. Did you think I wouldn't notice every provocative move you made? Every deliberate sound?”
Her pulse races beneath my palm. The scent of her sweat and shampoo fills my senses. Makes my head spin with want.
“I see right through you, kiska . Through every manipulative little trick.” My lips brush the shell of her ear. “But here's what you don't understand—I'm not some weak man you can wrap around your finger. I'm the one in control here.”
She shudders as my thumb traces circles on her hip.
“Always remember that.”
I spin her around and push her face down over the weight bench. I see her eyes go wide in the mirror opposite as I hook my finger in the waistband of her pants, dragging them down to expose her ass. Smooth, creamy skin begs to be touched. I give it a sharp slap, relishing the way she gasps.
“This is what happens when you test me.” Another slap, harder this time, leaving a pink mark on her skin.
She squirms beneath my hand, trying to get away, but I hold her firmly in place, lining up another blow.
“Please, Erik.” Her voice shakes. “Don't do this.”
But my blood pounds in my veins as the need to remind her who's in control makes my head spin. I deliver another sharp smack, loving the way her skin reddens under my hand. She bucks against me, a soft cry escaping her lips.
“You think I won't do this again? Won't spank that beautiful ass of yours for being so fucking insubordinate?” I punctuate each word with a slap, raining them down as her cries fill the room. “You need to learn your lesson, Katarina.”
She's all soft curves and vulnerable skin beneath me. I squeeze her hip, noting the way she shudders. Her cries are like a drug, fueling my need to dominate and possess. But each slap stokes the fire burning between my legs, demanding release.
She's squirming under my hand, her ass cheeks turning a delicious shade of pink, and her cries are echoing off the gym walls. When I try to drag her pants down further, she suddenly bucks and twists in my grip.
“Stop.” Her voice is breathless, panting. “Please, Erik, I?—”
But she can't finish as I give her another sharp smack, this time on the back of her thighs. My control is gone, and all that's left is the need to claim what's mine.
With a rough yank, I drag her yoga pants and thong down, baring her completely. Her sharp gasp as the cool air hits her exposed skin pierces through me. I step back to take in the sight of her, spread out over the bench, thighs shaking, pussy dripping.
“You don't want me to stop.” My voice is hoarse with need. My cock pulses, straining against my shorts, leaving little doubt about what I want. “Look at how wet you are, kiska . Your pussy is dripping, desperate to be filled and fucked.”
Her head shakes in denial, but she can't lie to me now. Not with the evidence of her desire pooling between her thighs. I stroke myself through my shorts, moaning at the friction. I'm so hard it's painful, every muscle coiled tight with the need to thrust into her warmth.
I crowd her back, pressing my chest against her, letting her feel just how much I want this. “Tell me you don't want me to stop.”
“I—” Her words catch in her throat, but there's no denying what her body wants. She's soaking wet, her cries turning me on even more. “Erik, I?—”