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CHAPTER12
Mila
That night, Jon brought me back to his home. I protested, telling him that all my things were at the hotel, and he quickly hushed me. By the time we pulled up to his penthouse and he carried me inside, there were new toiletries already waiting for me.
Not that he let me use them myself.
He didn’t put me down until we walked into the bathroom, placing me gently down on the floor and standing in front of me for a long moment before he said anything.
“You gave me the scare of my life tonight, Mila,” he whispered. His hands were soft as they slipped along my skin. I flinched a little when he touched the back of my scalp. His eyes narrowed with anger and concern.
“Igor dragged me from the second floor by my hair,” I said softly.
His eyes flashed with restrained fury, but it wasn’t as strong as it was before.
“I’m so thankful you’re alive,” he said quietly. He grasped my face in his hands and lightly kissed my forehead.
He pushed the straps off the backpack down my shoulders. He moved to put it on the floor, but he stopped when I pressed my fingers against his forearm, glancing back at me with a raised brow. I took the bag from him and reached inside it. I tossed the bag to the side once my fingers closed around the velvet drawstring bag.
I pressed the bag into his palm.
“I wanted to return them myself,” I whispered.
“I want you to understand something, my little girl,” he began. He glanced at the bag of diamonds before putting them on the bathroom counter. He barely even looked at them.
“The diamonds are valuable, sure, but you are priceless, my love. There is nothing that will ever be worth more than your life. If I had lost you over a bag of rocks, it would have broken me,” he continued.
“Jon, I…”
“Shhh, it’s alright. I need to see you. All of you.”
Slowly, he pulled the sweatshirt off my shoulders and dragged it down my arms. His gaze searched my flesh. He walked around me, touching me gently. His fingers were probing, but careful and I could feel the sheer emotion radiating through every soft touch.
“I searched you once before, didn’t I?”
His voice was just as gentle as his touch.
“You did,” I answered with a soft gasp as he took my tank top and gently tore it the rest of the way off.
“I’m searching you again today not because you took anything from me, but because I need to know that you’re not hurt. I need to see all of you because it terrified me to see you at the hands of that beast, that you could have been killed over something that could be easily replaced. The diamonds are only money. That’s it. You’re worth so, so much more.”
I whimpered quietly, trying to hold back my tears. He unclipped my bra and it sprang away from my body just enough for me to feel the weight of my breasts. My nipples were sensitive as he pulled the fabric away from me, revealing them to him. He reached out, cupping one breast and then the other before passing his rough thumb over one. I sighed, but it ended up sounding more like a moan than anything else.
“Does this hurt, my love?”
“No,” I whispered. My voice shook with my own emotion.
He slid a single finger down the center of my torso, hooking it in the waistband of my yoga pants. I sucked in my bottom lip, breathing slowly as his other hand joined and started to push them down my hips.
He left my panties up, but I knew that they wouldn’t stay that way.
He slipped my pants down my legs excruciatingly slowly, dragging his fingertips across my skin and leaving sizzling trails of scorching fire in his wake.
It had been several days since he’d last touched me like this and I’d forgotten just how dizzying and heady it was. He knelt down, gently pulling off my boots as my pants tangled around my ankles. He slipped my socks from my feet, one at a time as he placed a steadying hand on my thigh. I focused on pulling in a deep breath, but the air had seemingly turned blistering hot.
He passed his hands over my legs, pressing and searching every inch of me for injury. He closed his hand gently around the makeshift bandage on my right calf. I bit back a gasp of pain as he unwrapped it.
He stood up and wet a washcloth, taking it and pressing it carefully against my cut.
