Page 128 of Lethal Obsession

His cock leaps in his hand, and I know he’s about to lose it. Suddenly I’m fucking lost, my eyes closing as I imagine his raging, huge shaft deep inside me.

“I’m going to—oh—”

I open my eyes to find Alexei’s blazing into mine as he strokes himself savagely. “Come for me, angel.”

“Oh, fuck!” My head goes back, and I explode in fierce waves of sensation that grip me like a vise, screaming and tossing in the chair.

When I finally come back to earth, Alexei is still watching me, his eye glittering, his cock, glistening from his own release, half hard against his flat belly, looking so fucking hot it just makes me ache for him even more.

“Put something on,” he says roughly, “or there’s no chance I’m not going to do this all night.”

“But—”

“No, Ofelia.” Reaching for his shorts, he pulls them on, and I watch his magnificent dick disappear from sight. “I refuse to be the reason you don’t practice,” he says, pointing a stern finger at me. “Now put your clothes on, young lady, before I call the dragons to come and do it for you.”

Giggling, I leave the secure room and swap my cami set for a sarong.

“Seriously?” He shakes his head when I come back in. “That hides less than nothing, you do know that?”

“Well, since I’m only going to practice, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Ofelia.” He rolls his eye skyward. “As if watching you practice piano wearing nothing but a sarong isn’t going to torture the rest of my afternoon.”

“I guess you’re just going to have to think about something else—wait.” I frown, catching his slightly furtive expression. “What do you mean, watching me?”

“Fuck.” He grimaces. “Guess I just got myself busted.”

“I thought you said you haven’t been watching the inside cameras.”

“I meant it. That is—ah, fuck.”

I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of enjoying seeing him this disconcerted.

“I watch you practice,” he says finally.

I look at him in surprise.

“I don’t spy on your private moments, Ofelia. Not ever, I promise.” His smile has faded, replaced by the set mouth and intensity that signals a rare, treasured glimpse of the man behind the scars and which always takes me apart, at my very core. “But I do watch you play. I . . .” He shakes his head, his mouth tightening. “I won’t, if you don’t want me to.”

“No!” The word comes out harder than I intend. “No,” I say again, more quietly this time. “No, Alexei—I want you to watch me play. In fact, I would love that.”

A slow smile curves his mouth, his eye once again the clear blue of the ocean. “You would?”

Happiness fizzes inside me like champagne. “Yes. I really would.”

“Well, then.” He nods once. “I’ll be watching, Ofelia.”

23

Ofelia

“There’s no need for the entire family to come, Papa.” Two days later I pinch my forehead to relieve what is rapidly turning into a monster headache. “Mickey will be here, and Benny and Lourdes called to say they’re coming too. Honestly, it’s one solo amid a selection of varied pieces, and I’m filling in at the last minute. My name won’t even be on the program.”

And I’d really prefer you don’t come to my house and ask about the secure room that I spend most of every day in.

“A solo performance at the Alhambra palaces is a huge deal, Ofelia.”

“The Patio de los Arrayanes is a small venue, Papa, not the main stage in the Generalife. It’s a minor part of the program. And Albéniz’s “La Vega” is a tough piece. Believe me, the last thing I want is a cheer squad.”