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At the sound of my growled curse, Paige unlocks a new level of intensity. She swallows me down even deeper, and there isn’t time to warn her before I come right into her throat.
She takes it in.
Every.
Last.
Drop.
I empty my fucking soul into her. When I’m finally finished, she pulls away, gasping greedily for air. Her dress is plastered to her body and her hair is soaked. She looks up at me, her lips swollen and eyes watering.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
She doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get off her knees, so I grab her and pull her up to her feet.
“What are you trying to do?” I demand. “Destroy me?”
“I’m not trying to destroy you.” Her fingers tenderly stroke my cheek. “I’m trying to save you.”
“I don’t need saving, Paige.”
She takes me off-guard by leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. It lasts longer than it ought to. Long enough that I feel that innocent kiss spread through my body like an elixir.
Then she leaves, trailing water as she goes. Her dress clings to her hips like a second skin.
When I manage to get out of the shower on wobbly legs, my cock is already eager for round two.
Paige, more than any enemy I’ve ever faced, is forcing me to reckon with the one truth I’ve tried hardest to avoid since becoming don.
I’m only human.
23
PAIGE
“He’s never going to come home again.” I bury my face into the couch cushion to hide my embarrassment.
Cyrille chuckles. “Don’t be a drama queen. He’ll come home.”
“Every time he does, I jump his bones. I’m like a sex-craved predator.”
I’ve already given Cyrille the PG version of me walking in on Misha in the shower last night. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Now, I’m worried I might have played my last card. Where do I go from here?
“He’s your husband! It’s not like you’re some perv in a trench coat, approaching him in a dark alley,” she says. “He could say no if that’s what he chose.”
I shrug. “Yeah. I know. And I know he wants me, too. I could… I could tell.”
“The erection was a little bit of a giveaway, was it?” I throw a pillow at her, and she laughs. “Sorry. Misha is stubborn. You just need to wear him down.”
“I’m trying! Every time I think I’m making progress, he walks away. The man has superhuman willpower.”
“No one has superhuman anything. Especially not Misha. He used to go through like five bags of Doritos whenever we had movie nights.”
I can’t help giggling. “I’m not sure what to unpack first: the fact that Misha likes Doritos or the fact that you used to have movie nights.”
“All the time. Back when life was… normal.” Her smile falters, and I take her hand. “It’s so weird. There are days when I get through a full hour without thinking about it. I laugh and smile. Then I turn a corner and see a painting Maksim bought or a snack he loved and it brings it all back.” Then her smile brightens back up. “Doritos, though—those were all Misha. Everyone knew better than to get between that man and his chips. You’d lose a finger.”
I nod. “I used to walk a half a mile out of my way just so I could avoid seeing Clara’s parents’ trailer. I still hate that shade of green. You never stop missing them, but I suppose you just get used to not having them around. Which, to be fair, sometimes feels preferable to having someone around andstillmissing them.”
