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“But then… reality sank in.”
I stroke his dark hair away from his forehead. “What reality is that?”
At long last, he makes eye contact with me. The gray in his eyes is gone, replaced by sadness that makes my heart wrench. “You’re a target, Paige. And you’re a target because of me.”
“So it’s a pity party. That’s why you’re pouting.”
“I’m not pouting.”
“Please, this is a total pout fest you’ve got going on here.” I trail my fingers over his face. “You’re just lucky you look so good doing it.”
His brows are knotted together. “This is serious, Paige.”
I move my hips against his erection and I can see the lust pool in those silver eyes of his. “I’m being deadly serious right now. I want you, Misha.”
“You aren’t prepared.” The stubborn set to his jaw tells me he isn’t talking about sex.
“You just taught me how to fire a gun, remember? I’d say I’m prepared for anything.”
His voice rips out of him in an unexpected snarl. “That statement alone proves how unprepared you are!”
I push his shirt up and bend down to kiss his abs as I ease him back into his seat. “I can take care of myself, Misha. And if you’d let me, I’d love to take care of you, too.”
His body is responding to me the way it always does, but he’s still tense above the shoulders. “I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you.”
I smirk at the unintentional double entendre. “Believe me, I’d love to be cocky right about now.”
He huffs in frustration. “You’re still a beginner. It shows.”
“Then teach me,” I say slowly, really wrapping my lips around each word. “Practice makes perfect. That’s why I always keep working at my skills. I practice and practice and practice…”
As I speak, I unbutton his pants and free his hard cock. I take him in my palm, stroking him gently. It draws a strangled growl from his throat.
“But I can do new things, too,” I tell him. “Hardthings. Like this dinner we’re going to throw.”
He blinks, surprised at the change in direction. For a second there, he was lost in the rhythm of my touch.
“What about the dinner?” His voice is breathless.
“I’m going to be the best hostess there ever was.”
“You’ve never done anything like this before,” he reminds me.
I circle my hand around the base of him, pulling and massaging as I consider my game plan. “I’m going to pick the perfect dress, plan the perfect meal, choose the finest wines.”
“It takes more than that to impress these people.”
“I know.” I let go of him and sit up. “I’m not naive, Misha; I know what the men must think of me. One look and they can tell I haven’t been bred for this sort of life. This dinner is not just about power, is it? It’s about me proving myself to the rest of them. Same as those board members. They want to rip me apart, and it’s my job not to let them.”
Now, he does look impressed.
Misha grabs my ass and stands up, taking me with him. He carries me to the long table just behind the sofa and lays me down on the marble top.
He hovers over me, his eyes black with desire. “You need to prove yourself to them because they don’t know you as well as I do. They don’t know they’re the ones who ought to be afraid.” He kisses over my ribs and nips at the lacy edge of my bra. “This color of green suits you.”
“Really? Because I’m beginning to second guess it. I think you should rip it off of me.”
He doesn’t crack a smile. The desire in his eyes fades, and he looks at me with almost professional scrutiny. “They’re going to tear apart every single thing you do. Every single thing you say.”
