My body tensed when he lifted his hand and I felt him drag the pad of his thumb over my jawline and down my neck. He pulled his hand away and stared at the digit for a second before shifting his hand in my direction so I could see the dark, rust-colored smear on his skin.
“Amara,” he murmured my name deeply, his gaze going down to my mouth, then to my neck… and lower still until he got his gaze lingering on my chest. He hummed again. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of you covered in gore and not sure what’s going to happen next.” He made a lewd show of dragging his gaze from my breasts to my face.
His expression was stone-cold as he held my focus and brought his thumb to his mouth, sucking it off. I gasped, shocked at what he’d just done. And before I could react he had his hand wrapped around my throat, walked me backward so the wall stopped our movements.
He added slight pressure and lifted up slightly, causing me to rise on my toes to keep the pressure off my neck so I could breathe. Nikolai leaned in so our noses barely touched, so our lips were almost brushing. We shared the same breath for long seconds.
“Mmm.” The vibrations from his deep voice speared right between my thighs. “I’m going to have so much fun with you, wife.”
And then he was dragging his tongue along my lips. It wasn’t a kiss, it wasn’t soft or sweet or gentle. It was obscene, like a lion licking at his prey, marking his territory.
His body heat caused beads of sweat to form along the length of my spine and between my breasts
And then he was gone a second later, taking several steps back so I was forced to brace my palms flat on the wall behind me to steady myself.
“As much as I get hard seeing you covered in the blood of someone I killed…” He tipped his chin toward the open doorway to the bathroom. “I’m sure you’d feel more comfortable getting cleaned for your wedding night.”
And then he turned and left the bedroom, walking out of the room. I was frozen for long moments until I heard the sound of ice being dropped into a glass in the sitting room. I closed my eyes and sucked in a ragged breath.
When I opened them I was staring at the arch ceiling, the chandelier in the room elaborate and obnoxiously luxurious. I lifted my hand, realizing it slightly shook, and touched my bottom lip, still feeling it wet from his saliva, warm from his tongue. And then I shocked myself by running my tongue along my bottom lip, tasting the flavor of Nikolai mixed with the coppery flavor of blood from the man he killed.
I pushed away from the wall and walked on unsteady feet to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it. Not that a lock would keep a man like Nikolai Petrov away. If he wanted in I knew he’d find a way.
He’d always find a way.
Chapter
Fourteen
Amara
I’d been in the bathroom too long, so long the water had run cold and still I stayed in the stall. So long the ends of my hair had dried and curled against my back, the strands making my flesh feel even more sensitive.
I’d expected Nikolai to pound on the door, to demand I come out and give him what was now rightfully his.
But he never came, never rushed me.
And I could breathe, gather myself, and clear my head. Or at least I could until I faced him. Which I had to do sooner or later so I might as well get it over with.
I closed my eyes and breathed out once. Twice. Three times. I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection before straightening and making sure my towel was on securely in place. I’d been too flustered to grab a change of clothes from the overnight bag that had been packed before leaving my home. My home. Not any longer.
My hands shook and I hated it, hated that I didn't have control. Whatever had been shoved into that bag was all I’d take with me. Nothing from my “old life” would come with me. I’d have nothing physical to hold memories of whatever happiness I’d managed to scrape up living under my father’s rule.
I shook my head to push myself back to the present. Here I was, about to step out into the master suite with nothing but a thigh-length terry cloth covering my nudity. My virginity.
With one more look at my reflection, I turned towards the door, reached out with a shaky hand, and gripped the handle. I opened it just as I reached up and turned off the light, plunging the small room in darkness, feeling like it would protect me somehow.
It was a ludicrous thought. I had a feeling Nikolai thrived in the shadows.
I stood there for a moment, half in the bathroom and half out, looking into the suite, not seeing or hearing anything. It was wishful thinking that possibly Nikolai wasn’t going to accost me tonight.
But he hadn’t hurt me, hadn't so much as touched me inappropriately. Not really. He could’ve pushed me up against the wall and taken me as soon as we got into the hotel room. He could’ve had me twenty different ways already. But he told me to clean up, giving me time and space.
He’d killed for me. To protect me.
My vision adjusted to the darkness and I looked at the bed, the massive, king size mattress and frame although large, barely filled the huge room. I continued to look around the room, at the seating area across from the bed, the plush couch, the loveseat, and the chaise across from that, the small glass and chrome coffee table between them.
I looked out the window and could see the skyscrapers, the twinkling lights and could imagine how noisy it was. But being this high up, surrounded by metal and glass, concrete and steel, I heard nothing but the steady beat of my heart and my uneven respirations.
But I wasn’t alone. I knew that. I felt it. And then my gaze found him.
He sat in the corner in the modern style tufted black leather library chair, a swatch of light from the window spilling through.
My heart was racing as I stared at him and watched as he brought his hand up and to his mouth, putting a cigarette to his lips in the sexiest way I could have ever imagined. Although his chest was still bare of any coverings, he still wore his black tuxedo slacks. His feet were bare, and god, how could a man’s feet be considered attractive?
He inhaled and the end lit up a bright orange for a second.
I didn’t bother telling him it was probably forbidden to smoke in here. He wouldn’t care. Nikolai wasn’t the type of man to follow the rules. He did what he wanted when he wanted. He didn’t care about repercussions. He didn’t care about getting in trouble. In fact, I was pretty sure he got a rush going against the grain.
And then a second later a warm glow filled the room and I realized he turned on the small lamp that sat on the table beside the chair he was in. It was just a tiny reading lamp, the light barely spreading out five feet from where he sat, low enough that it gave it an intimate atmosphere.
It gave Nikolai a devilish glow.
But God, it was bright enough that he would be able to see everything, my nudity on full display like a painting in a museum.
He leaned back on the leather chair, one hand resting on the armrest, his back fully against the cushion now. He had an elbow on the opposite armrest, his thighs slightly parted, his body so big that he dwarfed the seat. With his elbow still resting on the edge of the chair, he brought his hand to his mouth. That’s when I noticed a cigarette—no, not a cigarette but something else—between his fingers.