Nika
I don’t exist anymore, not as a person or a weapon.
Everything boils down to nerves, sensations stuck in an endless cycle of yearning and loss.
Half my body is warm, nearly hot with the fire so close. The side facing away from the flames is chilled, which makes the heat from Max’s hand stand out even more. Despite the cold trying to seep through the windows and into my trembling muscles, sweat dampens my skin.
I crave the feel of his tongue again, his fingers. Everything.
The logical, rational region of my brain screams from behind a thick curtain, desperate to pull me back from this precipice. To keep me from surrendering.
The rest of me—my body, my very soul—craves whatever he’s offering.
All I have to do is…answer his questions.
“He betrayed my mother.”
When his shoulders brush the inside of my thighs, I spread them even more, giving him all the room he needs.
His beard tickles my skin, leaving a riot of new sensations in its wake. Then he hovers, his breath teasing me and cooling meoff, which somehow warms me up. “How did you get into the ballroom?”
In town? The gala? Why does that matter? “I just walked right in. No one tried to stop me.”
His mouth presses against me, his whiskers scraping as his tongue slides over my swollen bundle of nerves.
Oh god, it’s so good, and all I had to do was tell him what he would have already known if he’d paid any attention.
“What do you want?”
You.
No, Nika, that’s the wrong answer.“The, um…locket.”
The silky, prickly combination of his beard and tongue continues to flick over my clit, randomly pushing down into my pussy. My eyelids drift shut as my body relaxes into the bliss.
Part of me wants to pin him with my thighs and smother him to death. Hell, I should be using this situation to my advantage by seizing control while he’s distracted, while he’s weakened with that ankle.
For some ridiculous reason, I can’t. Every touch shoots fire through my body, a tingly, heated pleasure that I’m helpless to fight against. I’m not even sure I would want to fight it if I could.
He’s winning, the bastard, and I can’t even be mad about it.
“Where is Dimitri now?” His question breaks through my haze.
I shake my head, my mouth dry. “No clue.”
He starts to draw back, and I have the sinking suspicion he’s going to stop.
I clamp my thighs together, attempting to hold him in place as I gather my scrambled thoughts. “I really don’t know. Before the blizzard, he was on his way to meet you.” I want to bite my own tongue, pissed I’ve already revealed so much information. Am I really so weak that?—
I forget how to breathe when two fingers slip inside me, filling that ache that’s been building for days.
I moan, low and long, my hands clenching.
His fingers bend and scissor. “How did you know where to find us?”
I suck in a steady breath because “death by lack of oxygen while being fingered by your enemy” sounds like a shitty way to go. “I remembered the address.”
One hand slides up my hip, then behind my back, and suddenly, the zip ties pop loose.
