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“What are you doing, Paige?” He sounds out of breath, but we haven’t moved.
I slide my hand over his chest and undo his first button. I curl my fingers through the dark chest hair curled there. “You did tell me that you would meet any needs I had. That you would do ‘anything to make me comfortable.’ Weren’t those your exact words?”
He frowns, his heart thudding against his ribs. I undo the next button and the third before Misha can speak through his clenched jaw. “That’s not a good idea.”
I act innocent. “Why not? You’re my husband. It’s just sex. Are you worried I’ll get pregnant or something?”
“I’m—”
“You’ve made it very clear that you can’t love me.” I slide my hand under his shirt, caressing the warm skin of his chest. My entire body is buzzing from the contact. I feel high. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t make love to me, does it?”
His eyes dilate at the prospect. He’s right there for the taking.Weare right there for the taking.
I just have to be persistent. I can convince him. I know it.
“Or maybe you’re not willing to do that because you already have feelings for me.” I shrug like I don’t care either way. Like it isn’t the most important thing in the world to me.
“You’re mistaken,” Misha says in a gravelly rasp. “But you still need to recover. You almost died a few days ago, Paige.”
“Mhmm,” I purr. “That’s exactly right. Ialmostdid. But I didn’t. I’m right here and very much alive.” I press my body to his, closing the distance between us. “Want me to prove to you how alive I am?”
A groan rumbles through his chest, desperate and wanting.
He’s so close.So close.
I touch his bottom lip with my fingers. Then I trail my touch down his shoulder to his elbow and grab one of his hands. I place his palm on my hip. “Come on, husband,” I coo. “Make me yours.”
“Jesus.” He rips himself away from me and crosses the room.
Instead of feeling discouraged, triumph pounds through my body. I’m getting to him. I’m actually getting under his skin.
“Is it the lingerie? Do you not like it?” When he doesn’t answer, I slide one of the straps down my arm. “If you don’t like it, I can take it off.”
I’m in the process of pulling off the other strap when he encircles my hand with his own. “Don’t touch a fucking thing.” He’s so close I can smell his woodsy cologne and the raw, manly musk of him. His breath comes in harsh spurts. “I’m not sleeping with you tonight, Paige.”
He can’t even look at me. His eyes are pinned on the wall just over my shoulder, his hand still locked over mine.
So close. The tension is unbearable. My heart is in my throat. Every cell burns.
“Fine.” I shake his hand off and walk to the bed. “If you won’t help me, then I’ll just have to get myself off.”
I pull my thong down and sling it at him. It hits him square in the chest before he catches it, crushing the delicate material in his fist. “What are you doing?” he murmurs.
“You’re a smart boy.” I lie back on the bed and spread my legs. “Figure it out.”
Then I slip my hand between my legs and touch myself. I’m beyond frustrated with him, but I’m still wet. Dripping.
Misha leans forward for a second, tongue visible past his parted lips. We’re there. We’re right there.Come on,I plead silently.Don’t be so stubborn. Don’t be a fool. The future is lying on the bed with her legs parted. All you have to do is—
Just like that, the door clicks closed.
He is gone.
I flop back on the bed, pull a pillow over my face, and scream. It feels good, so I do it again, and that one feels good, too, so I go for a third time.
But then my throat is raw and I’m still aching with need.
Energy buzzes under my skin. I need release. I need to see this through.
