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“Now.” Andrei steps toward me quickly, and my fingers grab for the top button on my new jeans. My fingers fumble with the zipper. I tremble as I push the denim off my legs and onto the floor. My long hair covers my face, and gradually, I look to see what he is doing.
Andrei’s lips part, and his gaze moves over my bare legs. Slowly, I unbutton my top and his jaw tightens, but he’s not angry. His chest rises and falls when the thin cotton blouse slides off my arms and onto the floor.
I watch him watching me. The lust in his eyes is apparent and he doesn’t try to conceal it. Just like he can’t conceal the tightness bulging in his pants.
On purpose, I let a bra strap slip as I fumble with the hooks. My gaze catches on his as I bite my bottom lip. Sighing deeply, my bra slides off my arms, exposing my breasts. My nipples are hard despite the room being warm. My pussy swells in my panties, the last stitch of clothing I have on. I shift my weight as I hook my thumbs into the top of my panties. His eyes follow my panties to the floor.
Strangely enough, I feel more in control now that I am standing in front of him naked.
His look lingers as if he’s caressing me slowly. I tease him and place a hand over my breasts, barely covering them as I push them out more prominently. My other hand moves gradually down my tummy and stops between my legs. A single finger slips against my moist slit and I hold it there, staring at him. He watches my hand pressed against my sex.
Slowly and deliberately, I take my hand away from between my legs and let my other hand fall away from my breasts until I’m completely naked in front of him.
“Pick a dress.” His voice is rough as his eyes lower again.
I turn my back to him and let my fingers glide against the tops of the hangers. I stop on one, holding a simple dress made of organza with a sheer halter top.
“That’s a good dress.” His breath is in my ear and he tugs the dress off the rack, handing it to me. His body doesn’t touch mine, but I can feel his heat. I take a step back, and my bare bottom brushes against his hard thigh.
“This is a business arrangement.” He clears his throat. “A fake marriage.”
I lift the dress up and over my head as his eyes drink in my body. Twisting and turning, I pull it down, lowering my gaze and looking up to meet his in the mirror.
His gaze settles on my bare breasts, visible through the sheer fabric before it returns to my eyes.
“Will you tie it for me?” I ask sweetly as I lift the hair from my back, letting it spill over the tops of my shoulders.
He reaches out and places his hand against my waist. His hand brushes against my breast. I bite my lower lip as his fingers move one by one over my tight nipples, sending pinpricks flying across my alert skin. He catches the string and pulls it gently back, barely knotting the fabric in a bow behind my neck.
As if he’s afraid it will be too tight.
His breath caresses my neck as his hands move down to my breasts before he spins me around.
He’s standing too close, but I will my feet to stay in place where they are. I refuse to back away. His eyes lower to my lips as I close my eyes. I wait, but nothing happens.
Andrei is frowning when I open my eyes. “You make a convincing bride, Ms. Reyes.” His deep voice is low. “We will have them fooled.”
I want to ask about us. I want to ask what he means by that. He just told me this marriage will be fake. But will we also be fooled?
Emotion war inside of me, first anger and now desire. I hate him and now I want him.
Something tells me that we’re about to fall headlong into something very real—something that neither of us is ready for.
Chapter 14
Andrei
I wanted to pull her hand away and put mine in its place. To slide my finger into her and feel how wet she was. I could smell her scent and I imagined tasting her. She knew I wanted her. I could hear her breathe deeply, but I did not take her.
Sex and business are a bad combination unless it’s paid for.
I spend the rest of the day in my office, planning strategies. But my thoughts keep wandering back to Paige. Who is this Gerald Reyes that is her father? Who isshereally? Playing innocent must be an act. The woman treated my wound. Her father knew Ivan Sidorenko. But fear is hard to fake, and the expression in her eyes reveals what she feels. She’s terrified of me. Or of being caught? I need answers.
I grab a decanter of scotch off the bar and throw back a shot. Scotch this old is meant to be savored. That woman is more trouble naked than with a gun.
“Andrushka?” My mother, Eva, taps on the door before entering. She can enter anytime but still knocks.
I put the glass down and move toward the gray sectional, waiting for her to sit down. My mother doesn’t drink. She always remains alert to her surroundings. It’s how she’s survived.
