Page 77 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

“Hear you?”

Did he hear her swallow just then?

“Maybe,” she admitted, less sure.

The walls of the private dressing room weren’t particularly thick. Yes, Hannah was down shopping on the main floor of the private boutique known affectionately as the Dollhouse by the ladies running the place. Vera probably wouldn’t be interrupted for a while, either.

“Be very quiet, yes,” Vaslav murmured.

“Vas—”

“But make good and sure I can hear you, kisska.”

Oh, God.

It was hard to deny him when his voice sounded almost like a purr against her cheek through the speaker of the phone. All it took was closing her eyes, and Vera could imagine him there. The friction of him stepping between her widening knees. The way he’d touch her without abandon, leaving no piece of her body unloved by his attention. She could even smell him, taste him, too, if she tried hard enough. The thing was, even the memory of him was enough to get her body limboing in a hellish place.

Somewhere between want and need but feeding the urges wouldn’t necessarily give her precisely what her body craved—him.

Like muscle memory, he’d imprinted himself there, sure—in her mind, rushing through her veins. All over. She couldn’t forget the way he’d made her feel at one point or another.

He was there.

Even when he wasn’t.

She couldn't hide the shakiness in her next exhale.

Vaslav didn’t miss it, either.

“You want to,” he said with a taunting flair. “I bet your hand is already between your thighs or damn close. Are you wet?”

Vera laughed weakly. “My hand is not—”

“How close is it?”

She wet the seam of her lips with her tongue, whispering, “One is holding the phone, thank you.”

“And the other?”

This man.

“On the armrest of the chair, Vaslav,” Vera said, refusing to give into his tempting game. “I’m supposed to go help Hannah pick a dress. I am not sitting here masturbating on the phone for you.”

“You haven’t even thought about moving off that chair, have you?” he asked, confident. “Between the two of us, let’s get fucking real.”

And cocky.

“Vas—”

“I haven’t touched you in more days than I care to count, so the very least you could do is let me hear you pretend like I’m touching you now,” Vaslav said, the edge in his voice creeping through the phone to kiss her like sharp knives raking lightly over her skin. A threat, of sorts, but it still felt delicious. “And if it matters at all, because I am not above using various manipulations to get my way, I haven’t slept in just about as many days. Don’t act like you won’t enjoy giving me this.”

“You’d be mad,” she said. “Out of your mind.”

“What’s your point? That’s nothing new.”

“And just how is that the least I could do?” Vera asked, grinning.

Even if he couldn’t see it.