Chapter 23
Katerina
I hear a groan coming from the shower and pause.
Fuck, is he hurting? Did I seriously injure him?
I mean, I know I did. But is it worse that he let on? Then I slapped it. Fuck.
When I hear a second sound of pain, I climb off the bed and rush to the door separating us. At the third groan, I don’t bother knocking, I just rip the door open.
I rush inside and make it halfway to the shower stall before my eyes connect with my brain.
Dominic has one hand propped against the wall, and the other… is stroking his cock. I inhale sharply, unsure what to do. The noise has his eyes flying open, and his hooded gaze lands on me.
“Katerina!” he growls my name, and I can’t stop the shiver up my spine.
“I’m sorry!” I frantically say, avoiding eye contact.
“Why are you in here?” he growls.
“I thought…” I can’t finish the sentence because my eyes drop. I follow the beads of water as they flow down his thick neck, across his massive shoulders and pecs, down his defined abs, veiny arms, to the hand that holds his rigid length.
The hand that is still gripping his cock.
Still stroking.
I can’t concentrate on anything.
It’s like I’ve short-circuited.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen a man naked. And it’s hotter than I thought. Or maybe that’s just the steam from the shower turning me red.
“Thought what?” he probes as he continues his slow strokes.
“I thought you were injured,” I finally spit out. My whole body is reacting. I need to get out of here.
“I am injured. You injured me.” His reminder has my gaze shifting to his thigh. The suture is bold and ugly. For a moment, I feel guilty.
“I’m just… I’m going to go.” I point at the exit and turn on my heels, ready to make a run for it.
“You’re running away? After everything we’ve been through, what scares you is my cock, little doll?” He laughs darkly, and his eyes challenge me.
“I’m not scared,” I lie through my teeth. But he’s right. The monster between his legs terrifies me. I’m in uncharted territory.
“Then stay and watch what you do to me.” He raises a brow and grins. He knows he has me cornered.
“Fine,” I say, then sit on the edge of the tub across from the shower. If I’m staying for the show, I might as well get a front row seat.
I’m hoping my presence will make him uncomfortable. I’m hoping that if I maintain eye contact, he’ll feel guilty and stop.
But it seems to be doing the opposite.
His corded muscles flex as he grips his cock. His motions are controlled, just as I’d expect from him. His eyes never leave mine, and when he hisses out my name again, I realize my plan isn’t working.
Something diabolical enters my mind. He’s challenging me. But maybe I can challenge him back.
I’m emboldened by his nudity. If he can prance around exposed in front of me, then so can I.
I move my long hair out of the way over my shoulder and find the zipper at my back. He pauses when I stand.
“What are you doing?” His rushed question only spurs me on.
I just grin and wink at him.
I shrug off the hideous dress and let it pool at my feet. I’m left in a matching pink set. I wouldn’t think boy shorts and a plain bra could be sexy, but the way his movements become erratic, the way he seems to lose his control, tells me otherwise.
“Fuck, Katerina. Take it off. All of it. Now!” Dominic’s demand is hoarse. He sounds tortured.
I just smirk and sit back on the edge of the tub.
“I don’t take orders from you, husband,” I mock him as I spread my legs. Even though I’m covered, I feel so exposed. But I don’t let him see my vulnerability.
“Take if off, wife,” he growls. I can tell he’s pissed, and my control over his normally composed demeanor floods me with power.
“No.”
Instead of brooding like I thought he would, or maybe even begging, he does something much worse. He straightens and opens the shower door. Then he storms out and stalks towards me. He towers over my sitting frame. Water drips off him onto me.
“I can see the wet spot between your thighs. Your cunt weeps for me. You’re just as turned on as I am. I can give you the relief you crave. You just have to listen to me.” He’s still fucking stroking himself.
“I’ll pass. I can get my own relief. Thanks, though.” I push him as hard as I can, and the only reason I get him to budge a few inches is because I catch him off guard.
Within seconds, I’ve distanced myself from him and am back in the bedroom.
I hear him growl, but that’s as much as I get before I’m out of there too.
I call for Vova over my shoulder, and he follows me to my bedroom on the opposite side of the house. I change into pajamas, then hop in bed.
But I don’t go to sleep. I just sit there and wait. I tell myself I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I do.
And sure enough, not twenty minutes later, my husband storms into my room.
Without even giving me the chance to argue, he pulls me out of bed and throws me over his shoulder.
Like a caveman, he carries me to our bedroom and throws me on the bed. He tucks me in tightly and gives me a sharp look.
“Try to get out of this bed, and I’ll handcuff you to a bedpost.” He growls then turns off the lights. I hear him get into bed and hiss in pain at the movement. I feel a slight pang in my chest knowing I fucked up his leg.
“Goodnight, husband,” I whisper into the darkness.
He just huffs in response.