Page 63 of Lord of Passion

The sound I emit is high and girlish and in no way attractive. "I've never done that."

Lifting me up and down against his thigh, he gives a guttural chuckle. "Then you'd better not let me catch you." He sets me down abruptly and I feel the jolt all the way to my clitoris. My legs are shaky and my center burns. My nipples are hard and rubbing against my sports bra and I'm grateful my hoodie covers them.

"Pull up the text on your phone so I know you have it," he urges, and it takes me three embarrassing fumbles to get it out of my pocket. The route is clear. Less than two miles but there's some rooftops and a waterway included and I can't use the footbridge over it. Still, I've run harder courses, just not with the threat of getting my ass ravaged by an enormous cock before.

The strumming excitement of the run takes over, coiling through me as he steps back. Nikandr in an expensive suit is gorgeous. My husband dressed down is fucking lethal. His arms are bulging with muscle under his t-shirt and he's wearing those black tach pants again which are outlining his ass perfectly. No Prada dress shoes tonight, he's wearing boots.

Sucker.

I can jump from rooftop to rooftop faster and easier in my running shoes.

Nikandr smiles at me, one I've never seen before. Not the tight-lipped, barely patient smile he uses for strangers, or the grin he saves for family. His face is half in the shadow of the building, eyes gleaming and this smile is dark, hungrier and more savage than a normal human's should be.

He claps his hands together loudly and I jump. "What are you waiting for,Plokhoy kot?You have a ten-minute head start, and then I'm after you.Go!"

I run like the hounds of hell are after me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

In which losing a race can be so much better than winning it.

Nikandr…

I used to run like this.

When we were based primarily in St. Petersburg, Father would send us after some stupid, unfortunate bastard who tried to escape punishment. Sometimes, through the city streets and then two memorable runs through the forest by our hunting lodge.

This is so much better. Instead of running down a crying, begging traitor, I get to catch my luscious wife and fuck her. I was deliberately rough tonight, I gave her a chance to slap me and push me away. Instead, her pupils flared and there was a perfect little hitch in her breath when she gave me her safe word.

My head drops back and I watch my breath turn to vapor in the rapidly cooling air. Five minutes.

Looking down at the wet spot on the leg of my pants, I groan. There's nothing like the sweet slipperiness of Caroline when she's turned on, moaning, begging to come. Ten minutes.

"Better run,Plokhoy kot."

I'm off, that dark venom flowing through me again like the old days, the joy of the chase andfuck…the stakes have never been hotter. I race down two streets and cut through the center of the block on the third. There's an office building there that's foolish enough to keep their loading bay doors unlocked at night. Caroline will take it. I know she's run through these streets before.

Stopping outside the door, the only thing I can hear is the even thudding of my heartbeat.

There she is… I hear the faint metallic clang of her footsteps taking the fire escape down from the rooftop of the next building over. Good girl. She's moving faster than I thought. I take the office building stairs two at a time, six stories. Out on the rooftop, I breathe deep, there's the smell of dirty puddles of water from the last rainstorm. The slight bite of salt from the ocean, carried in by the wind and because it's blowing in just the right direction, the rich berry scent of my wife, tinged with adrenaline.

My dick is rock fucking hard as I take the leap between the buildings and my race down the fire escape is not as quiet as my wife's. A window opens, the florid, angry face of a man ready to scream at me. He sees my grin and shuts his window again.

A seven-foot concrete wall looms in front of me. I can jump it, but the barbed wire at the top requires some finesse. As I balance on the top, swinging my leg over the wire, I see a scrap of black cotton caught in a barb. Caroline's sweatshirt. Damnit! This way was too risky, she could have gotten hurt.

Leaping down, I head for the waterway. Not using the foot bridge means wading the waist deep water and freezing your ass off for the rest of the run or using the iron bars underneathit to go hand over hand above the water. I don't see any wet footprints when I cross. She must have done the same thing.

I'm off again, running faster to close the distance between us. The memory of her grace when I'd caught her running across that roof at the farmer's market, her long legs, her determination and the sheer bliss I saw on her face is so vivid.

There she is, myPlokhoy kot.Hair flying behind her as she sprints across a pedestrian walkway over the train tracks. A growl erupts from my throat and I rip off my sweaty t-shirt and close the distance, racing across the train tracks below the walkway so she doesn't spot me. She pauses at the bottom of the steps, bent over, hands on her knees and catching her breath.

A rock hits the ground by her foot and she yelps, shooting up and turning in a dizzy circle, looking for me.

"Better run, little girl. You haven't crossed 17th Street yet."

Caroline gives a little shriek. She can't see me, hidden under the concrete overpass and she takes off again. Oh, shereallydoesn't want me to fuck her ass, her head is down, running shoes digging into the pavement.

There are only two streets left, two possible ways for my prey to go. Both of them, though, end at the same point before it's a straight shot to 19th and safety. Cutting through the middle of a block, I dodge an outraged stray cat grazing in a garbage can and an older woman, exhausted-looking, likely coming home from work. Her hands go up as I tear down the alley.