Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Dancers. They are all dancers.
And they are all me.
It’s too much for my mind to process. What I’m witnessing isn’t what I know him to be. He is mafiya. A thief. Not an artist. But my judgment can’t argue with realism. I confined him to a box inside my mind, and he hasn’t just stepped outside it, he’s blown it entirely apart.
He created these pieces. He conceived and designed and toiled over these works.
I expected to find so many other things. Death. Torture chambers. Violence. Money and guns. But not art. I can’t fathom it. Right now, I don’t want to. I want to pretend I never saw it. It’s the only way to protect myself. But the chance is lost when Nikolai turns and catches me watching him.
I’m prepared to flee, but one command from him halts me.
“Stop.”
I freeze.
His eyes hold me hostage. “What do you mean to do by sneaking around?”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not an answer.” He discards the brush in his hand against the easel. “Tell me what you were looking for.”
His face and his heart are closed. Shielded. He does not trust me. I don’t trust him either, but we don’t need trust to destroy ourselves.
“I was looking for you.” I tap my toes against the cold floor, wishing I could create a sinkhole to escape his scrutiny.
The music plays on, the only sound between us. The tune is classical and beautiful and not something I would expect from Nikolai. But then again, he has proven me to be a fool when it comes to my expectations.
He makes the first move, stalking me like a jungle cat.
“Why would you be looking for me?” He forces my chin up with his hand. “Have you come to make another declaration of your love for Dante? Or perhaps a worthless plea to return home to your loving father?”
His words are laced with undisguised bitterness, and a ray of hope shines brightly inside of me.
“I’ve come to do neither,” I tell him. “I’ve come because …”
I can’t say the words. I’m not ready to admit how impoverished I feel without him. I’m definitely not ready to confess that I purged my depraved needs by thinking of him while I touch myself.
I cave into myself and look up at him. My values have taught me that it’s not my place to be forward with a man. But right now, it’s the only thing I want to do. When I reach up with an unsteady hand, he doesn’t move. He’s rigid and unresponsive, but the cold war fractures when my fingertips touch his face.
His eyes fall shut, and he narrows the distance between us by dragging me against his body. His engorged cock lays heavy against my belly, already ripe with want. My lips find his, and I’m ready to let myself be lost in his skin. But there is still one thought plaguing my mind.
“Have you been with others?”
Nikolai locks me in his arms to prevent me from pulling away. His eyes are softer than they were only a minute ago, but not any less beautiful.
“Would it matter?” He toys with the strap of my silk chemise. “I thought you were merely biding your time until your return home.”
“It does matter.” My heart pulses wildly. “I want your everything while I have it. Wait until I’m gone, and then you can—”
“Nakya.” He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, forcing my mouth open. The ensuing kiss is violent and possessive, but entirely too short.
“I don’t want anyone else,” he breathes. “Why would I when I have you?”
His words are genuine, but I still have my doubts. And I’m certain he is tired of giving me assurances he has no need to give. He could take me either way. He could do whatever he likes. His loyalty is not owed to me. But regardless, it’s what I see in his eyes when he whispers his next words.
“You gave yourself to me, my sweet. And it is not a difficult task to give you my loyalty in return. I have no reason to lie when I tell you that you have poisoned me against any other woman.”
“So keep me then,” I plead. “Keep me and make me yours, Nika. Carve your star into my skin and never let me go.”
He kisses me, and it isn’t a promise, but an admission. He wants to keep me, but he won’t make a promise he’ll be forced to break. As much as I need those words right now, I need him more.
We come together in a slow burn. Hot, sticky hands undress each other and explore the canvases of our bodies. He cups me between my legs and kisses my throat. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours.”
He groans and dips his fingers inside me, toying with me while he sucks on the flesh above my collarbone. “Tell me you’re mine.”