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The after-party had already ended hours ago, and night fell like a cold blanket over all of nature. Even over us. And I was afraid of it. I dreaded that very moment when I stood in front of the mirror with clenched fists and gritted teeth, preparing for him like a marinated chicken ready to go into the oven.
I eyed the red lacy lingerie beside the hair dryer. My heart squeezed and unshed tears burned the back of my eyes. He’d selected it, requested—no, demanded that I wear it. Humiliation. Submission. It physically hurt that I had to wear that. For him. Something about following tradition that I honestly didn’t give a shit about.
He had said that I was likable, and although this caused an unpleasant fluttering in my stomach, it also made me feel disgusted. He had forced me to marry him and left me no choice but to give in to his demands.
I put on the see-through thong and bra and brushed back my hair. My body stared back at me. I wasn’t going to lie; it was better than walking out naked. I cinched the bathrobe tighter over my half-naked body and opened the door.
I wasn’t prepared to be met with the sight of him already seated by the edge of the bed, shirtless and waiting. If Adonis had been reincarnated, he could be him, Rafail Varkov in the flesh. Although a nagging voice pointed out that Rafail was hotter than the god of rebirth, beauty, and desire.
The broad lines of his shoulders that stretched across his back, the sinewy muscles of his biceps, the dark line of fine chest hair, his perfect abs, which tapered into a sensual V, all the way down to his … made me light-headed. He ran his fingers through his tousled hair and tapped the bed with one hand.
“Come here.”
The rugged sound of his voice and the subtle command should have repulsed me. In fact, it did. But the silly flurries started again, and I felt like putty, like a spineless soldier under his control. My mind said “No”, but my feet moved toward him of their own accord, stopping between his legs.
His gaze slid over my bare legs and scorched my naked skin. I inhaled sharply as he touched me, so feather-light and gentle that I almost thought I had imagined it.
He raised his head, and I lowered mine. Amber and blue. His eyes burned with intensity, fueled by desire and an unmistakable glow of lust. The same intensity as the eyes of a predator hunting his prey.
“Take it off.” The huskiness of his tone traveled to my toes and a pulling sensation spread between my legs. I hated it. I hated how easily my body responded to his demands.
The hatred I felt for him in my mind was at war with my body. Like a raging ocean on a stormy day, pulling me into the depths of the unknown. My mind is slowly drowning in the heated feelings in my chest. Feelings that mirrored the look in his eyes. Hot embers and sizzling sparks.
Suddenly, rule three no longer meant anything, because I had succumbed to my feelings and resigned myself to my fate. I had no strength to resist or fight him.
With Ava gone, freeing Liam was the top priority, and if removing this robe was a guarantee that he would one day be free, then so be it.
My heart did a double take when I touched the belt holding the fluffy fabric together. I did a countdown.
Three.
Two.
One.
The robe fell at my feet and cool air brushed against my skin. Instinctively I wanted to cover myself, to shield my body from his eyes, but he muttered something dark and fierce in Russian, and my arms remained limp at my sides.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and he scooped me up from the floor and laid me on the bed. My breath hitched. His Herculean body hovered over me like a thundering cloud, his gaze, dark and wild, drinking me in and taking his time doing so. He was in charge, and he made that clear.
He moved slowly and skillfully tied my hands above my head, binding my wrists to the headboard with the belt of the velour bathrobe, and lowered his face to my neck. My body hummed and searched for a connection with him, making me shift and squirm. His nostrils flared and he licked his lips.
“I could spend all day looking at you. You are so fucking beautiful, Juliana.” The heat of his breath fanned my nape and the way he said my name only heightened my arousal. I resisted the urge to groan, fuck, he hadn’t even touched me, and I was so turned on. My heart raced and my breasts heaved.
He kissed a spot above my collarbone. I shivered.
“In this bedroom, we have one rule.”
“I hate rules,” came out of my mouth before I could stop it. And it wasn’t a lie. He had barged into my life, uninvited, and crashed my world, taking my rules down with it.
His blue eyes were dazzling with amusement. “You don't have much of a choice, krasotka. It’s my rule and you cannot break it.”
He stroked the sides of my hips, his mouth grazing over me, planting soft kisses on my jawline, the hollow of my neck, and my chest. My skin tingled with need, craving, and burning. He caressed my body as if I were the most delicate thing in the world. Each stroke ignited a new sensation inside me. The temptation to close my eyes and relish the feeling of his warm lips on my skin was stronger than anything I had ever experienced.
“What’s the rule?” I managed to say.
With a flick, he turned me to my side and unhooked my bra. He took it off, tossed it to the floor, and buried his face between my breasts. My nipples reacted instantly, the peaks hardening as he pinched one and massaged the soft mounds with his calloused palms.
I groaned and he growled as he traced the taut valley down to my thong.
