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“My eyes are north, not south,” I tell him, but I don’t push him away. I can’t help but think that if I were to push him away, his grip on me would only tighten.
“Oh, I’m aware. How does she taste, Mikhail?”
I look over at Mikhail. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the table.
“I said that’s enough.”
Lev’s mouth hovers over the mark on my neck. His warm touch makes my stomach twist.
Why isn’t Mikhail telling Lev to stop? I stare at him the entire time. He doesn’t want to watch this, but I can tell he’s waiting to see how far Lev will go.
Lev’s fingers lift the shirt to brush my inner thigh. My lips part, shocked by what he’s doing. I grab onto his back to keep my balance. It’s as if I can’t move. I’m not allowed to. Lev isn’t a kind person; pushing him off would only worsen my position.
“Derzhi ruki proch ot neyo,” Mikhail says huskily.Keep your hands off of her.
“If you don’t tell me, I can find out for myself.”
Dimitri walks up to us and pulls me away from him. Mikhail grabs Lev by the neck, shoving him up against the wall. He lets out a defeated sigh and smiles. Lev enjoys pissing Mikhail off.
Within a second, both men are yelling in Russian as Lev challenges Mikhail.
“Just let them fight it out,” Dimitri tells me. “Lev won’t stop until he admits it to him.”
My entire body tenses.What the fuck is happening?“Admits what?” I ask.
“How you taste,” Dimitri says.
“Why the fuck does that matter?”
“Because he’s never been down on a woman before.” Dimitri pours himself a drink. “We got drunk one night and Mikhail said it’s too intimate for him. This is Lev’s way of seeing how he feels about you.”
The room goes silent as Mikhail grabs my hand and tugs me away from Dimitri. I stumble over my feet as I try to keep up with him. Looking back, I see Lev looks content, like he finally got his answer.
I don’t know how to feel about anything right now. My thoughts are jumbled like they just went through a clothes dryer. Mikhail’s hands venture to my waist and he walks me all the way to the north side of the house—a part I’ve never explored before. His hands still on my hips, he guides me up the stairs into a bedroom. His head drops as he walks to the bathroom.
The room is gorgeous. The rug on the dark oak floors is embroidered with a floral design. The bed is padded, and the paneled walls are cream. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Mikhail flips the light on, and I follow the sound of water. The room has a feminine touch.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Ti pozvolila yemu prikosnutsa k tebe.” You let him touch you.
“I don’t know what you just said, but I don’t appreciate your tone,” I muse.
“Get in the water, Sloane.”
“Why? I took a shower last night.”
“You allowed him to put his hands on you. Get in the water.”
“I allowed him to put his hands on me? Are you fucking kidding me, Mikhail?”
He steps up to me and takes the shirt off my back, leaving me naked. I don’t fight him because I want his hands on my skin.
“You hurt my feelings,” he tells me, placing his hand on the small of my back with a gentle touch.
“Oh, really? How exactly did I do that?”
He doesn’t have feelings. Mikhail has a difficult time letting out any sliver of emotion that isn’t frustration or anger.
