Chapter 12 #2
“I know. I didn't say I was getting in with you. Go. Get in the shower. But I’m not leaving you alone. We're getting married in a few days, Lydia. The sooner we get comfortable with each other, the better.”
“Fair.” She stands and stretches before she starts taking her clothes off. I turn my head away, but her voice arrests me.
“No. We’re going to be married, right? Why turn away? That’s only a waste of time and playing games. This is me. This is what you’re marrying. Let’s see what you think.”
Her voice is hard. Challenging. I stole a woman who’s constructed of sheer fire and ice and should have expected nothing less.
Holding my gaze, she lifts the pretty brick-red top, now wrinkled and smudged, over her head. “I hope that all comes out of this. I would very much enjoy wearing that again.”
Doesn’t matter if it does or not. I’ll get her another. I’ll fucking hire someone to sew her another one if I have to.
She stands in front of me, her full, curvy body making me fucking hard. Maybe I don’t need to bleed anything off. Maybe just watching her is enough for me to let that shit go.
Her blush-colored bra pushes up her full breasts. She’s got the sweetest little dimple in her belly. I imagine laying her down and tonguing it before I taste even more of her.
We’ll get there.
I take a step toward her before I realize what I’m doing. I freeze, her gaze still locked on mine.
Next, she reaches for the waistband of her leggings.
Her fingers, adorned with long, blood-red nails, hook into the waistband before she begins to slide them down.
I swallow hard as she pushes them over her luscious hips and shapely thighs.
A hunger gnaws at my core, a craving that food won’t satisfy.
She folds the leggings and places them next to her top. I’m standing in front of her, staring at her perfect body. I can’t believe that she’s mine.
Mine.
I reach for her shoulder and stroke it with the pad of my thumb.
“You’re a fucking masterpiece. The most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.
” When she opens her mouth to likely protest, I shake my head.
“And don’t you dare contradict me. If you say one fucking self-deprecating thing about your body, I’ll put you straight over my knee and spank you until you beg me to stop and you’re ready to admit you’re fucking gorgeous. ”
“You wouldn’t,” she whispers, but the heat of her gaze tells me there’s a part of her who hopes that I will.
I stare into the depths of her eyes and comb my fingers through her hair. I lean in and kiss her temple. “I promise I would, so I wouldn’t test that theory. Let’s clean you up. Our food will be here soon.”
“So sex isn’t in your arsenal of tools to come down after a high like that?” she whispers.
I kiss her cheek and turn her around to face the bathroom. “I guess we’ll have to see.”
In the bathroom, I turn the shower on. “I want you to trust me. I'm not going to take advantage of you. I promise. You are getting in the shower, and you’re not leaving this bathroom until I take a shower, too.”
She looks over at where the clothes are. “Does your housekeeper do laundry?”
I shake my head. “I don't trust people to do shit like that for me.”
“Very nice. A man who can take care of himself. I'm impressed.”
I don't take the bait. I open the shower door and jerk my head. “Go.”
As she steps into the shower, the doorbell rings. I can hear it from here and quickly pull up the monitor on my phone. I can't see Lydia except through the frosty glass, but she is trying to look at me. “Food?”
I nod and tap a button on my phone. “Leave it at the door. Thanks.”
She looks for me again. “I need a few more minutes. Do you want to go get the food?”
I feel a corner of my lips quirk up. “Nice try, Lydia. Nice try.”
“Seriously, pizza’s no good cold.” She's totally fucking testing me. She'd eat pizza cold straight from the fridge. It's one of her favorite things.
“It'll stay hot for a while longer.”
“You still have to shower. And I am dying to shave these legs.” She looks down. “Fine. Listen, Viktor. You're going to be my husband whether you want to or not, and we’re both starving. Come shower with me already.”
Lydia isn't like other girls. Others would be shaking in terror being alone with a man she hardly knows. But Lydia likes to live on the edge. She likes to be scared. I'm going to use that to my advantage.
“Are you sure about that?”
My voice is low, husky. I can't help the raging hard-on I get with the suggestion of being near her nakedness and sharing a shower with her.
Lydia frowns, turning so that the shower water cascades over her shoulders and back.
“Is there anything I can do to prevent our marriage?”
“No.”
Her voice is hard. “So we're going to share a name, rings, and a bed. Then, yes, I’m sure. We can share a shower.”
There's that edge again. My cock throbs. I can't wait to fucking tame this woman.
“This shower is big enough for all of your brothers to fit in here.”
I growl before I realize I'm even responding, and she laughs out loud. It's music to my ears.
“I’m not saying I want to share the shower with your brothers any more than you do. I'm not saying they should. I'm just saying they could. So relax.”
I strip my clothes off and throw them into the hamper.
“I like a man who keeps his things tidy.”
“Is that right?” I ask, opening the shower door. Steam billows out at my skin.
“So my house fits your needs? Is it clean enough for you, your majesty?”
She's extremely neat and tidy and hates anything out of place. Even before she gets to work, she always has to clean up her space. Her car is impeccable.
When I found out she was coming here, I hired an entire team to clean my house from top to bottom. Even though I already have a housekeeper, we did a complete deep clean all the way down to the basement.
“It does. I like that.” She finishes rinsing her hair and turns to face me.
“Dear God,” she says, shaking her head. “How much do you lift?”
“Like, how often? Or how many weights?”
She shakes her head. “Never mind. I don't think it would make sense to me anyway. I wouldn't know what it looks like to bench press fifty or a thousand pounds. Your body speaks for itself.”
“Is that right?” I look down on my body. “What does it say?”
All traces of humor leave her. She looks from the top of my head, down my neck, and over my shoulders. The heat of her gaze skates down my skin to my massive erection, my strong thighs, all the way down my legs.
“Your body looks like it's been honed into an instrument of torture. Perfection.” She licks her lips and swallows. “It says you're trained to kill.”
She's not wrong.
I step into the shower. “It also says that you are incredibly turned on by me,” she whispers, almost surprised.
“Did you seriously need to see my hard-on to know that?”
I'm going to go to bed tonight with the worst fucking case of blue balls I've ever had in my life.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Honestly? No. Of all the things I've doubted about you and me so far in this short time that I've known you, your attraction to me has not been one of them.”
Yet she lets me hold her hand. She's let me comfort her. Lydia may be afraid of me, but if she is, she hides it well.
I reach for the bar of soap and scrub it on my back. Quickly wash and rinse.
I'm aware of her watching me. I'm aware of the way her breath hitches, and she looks away.
I want to touch her. I want to feel her. I want her to touch me.
She leans over me, reaching for the conditioner that Polina bought her. Her arm brushes mine, and I have to hold my breath to keep myself still. To keep myself from grabbing her and ravishing her right here in the shower, hours after I've taken her into my captivity.
I swallow hard, the rise of adrenaline making the blood pump in my veins.