30. Nicolai
CHAPTER THIRTY
NICOLAI
“It’s getting late,” I say, my voice rough as my hand remains glued to her hip. The heat of her skin makes it harder to pull away. “We should get some rest.”
I know Luna isn’t thinking about sleep since her eyes stay locked on me. “Is that what you want? To sleep?” Her fingers skim my abs, then purposefully dip inside my trousers, and suddenly, everything else no longer exists.
I swallow hard, my jaw tightening as I try to find the words to answer her. “Luna…”
Her lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile. “Because it doesn’t feel like you want to sleep, Nico,” she whispers, as her thumb glides along my bottom lip. She said Nico. Not Nicolai, like I asked. And just like that, I’ve already lost.
Her hand moves with deliberate intent, reaching for my tie. I don’t stop her. I can’t. The silk slides free, and the sound, almost imperceptible, feels deafening in the quiet room. My breath catches as she steps closer, her gaze never leaving mine.
Her fingers brush against my collar, and I feel the first button give way. Then the next. Each movement is deliberate, as though she’s testing the limits of my restraint. And damn it, I’m not sure how much of it I have left.
“Luna.” It’s a warning, but she doesn’t waver. I should have fucked her downstairs, but it’s too late now. Then, her gaze locks on mine, impossible to ignore. And I feel completely undone for the first time in a long time.
Her fingers move to my cuffs, and I can’t look away. The way her touch lingers just a second longer than necessary is maddening. She’s seducing me, and it’s her boldness that undoes me more than anything else.
The first cuff comes undone, the fabric loosens around my wrist, and the second cuff is next. When she finally slides the shirt off my shoulders, her fingers brush against my skin, sending a jolt through my body.
The shirt slips from my fingers, forgotten as it hits the floor. Her gaze locks onto mine. She’s daring me to stop her. To pull away.
I should stop her. Take back control, but I can’t.
She’s already taken it away from me.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t care.
Her hands move lower, deliberate and unhurried, and I feel her fingers brush against my belt buckle. My breath catches, my pulse quickening as she works confidently, leaving me completely ruined.
I’m usually the first to initiate sex since I’m always in control.
I demand it. But tonight, something about her quiet confidence, after what we discussed at dinner, has me hesitating.
It piques my curiosity, pulling me into unfamiliar territory.
For once, I wait with bated breath to see what she’ll do next. And she doesn’t disappoint.
Her knuckles brush the flat of my stomach as she drags down my zipper.
The trousers collapse, pooling at my ankles.
Luna doesn’t step back. Just lifts her chin, and I don’t move.
I’m rooted to the floor, my adrenaline skyrocketing.
All I can think is: When did she learn to play my game better than me?
A snarl tears loose from my throat before I can cage it, and my hand whips out, cinching her wrist hard enough to bruise. Her pulse jackhammers under my grip.
Fuck.
I should break her for this. Should pin her to the wall and remind her what happens to wives who forget their place. But the way her lip quirks, like she’s laughing at the beast she’s unleashed, makes me fucking hard.
“Clever girl,” I rasp, yanking her against me. “But this?” I guide her trapped hand lower, pressing it over the thick ridge of my cock. Proof of the power she’s toying with. “This kingdom exists because I let it. You want to play ruler? Then learn to be merciless. Like me.”
I don’t kiss her. I take—mouth brutal, and when she moans, it’s not submission. It’s a challenge. And Christ, I’ll ruin us both answering it.
Her dress falls, pooling at her feet, as if she’s shedding skin she never wanted.
“Like what you see, Boss?” Her voice is sweet but lethal. She steps closer, every curve a provocation. I’ve seen men kneel for less. I’ve berated them.
My jaw locks. “You’re disobedient.”
“No.” A cold fingertip traces down my navel and dips inside the waistband of my underwear. “I’m thorough.”
I grab her hips, my fingers bruising her delicate flesh, but she doesn’t hiss. Just smiles, all venom and victory, and presses her nakedness against me like a weapon. The chill of her skin sears worse than fire.
This is how you lose wars, some detached part of me warns. But the rest? The rest is already counting on how to burn the world down with her. I’m so fucked when it comes to this woman.
“Still in control, marito ?” she murmurs, the word laced with venom. It’s Italian for husband.
I nearly unravel, threads of restraint snapping one by one. Instead, I fist her hair and yank, tilting her face to look at me. “You want control?” My thumb brushes her pulse. “Then you’ll need to earn it,” I hiss, toeing off my shoes, and my trousers follow.
Her laugh is low, dangerous. “Tell me, husband, how do I earn control?”
“You want control? Outthink me. Outfight me. Or—” My mouth crashes over hers, a clash of teeth and spite— “outlast me.”