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CHAPTERFOUR
Kat
Everything about this situation is wrong. I’m losing myself to a man I don’t know, letting his tongue invade my mouth. My thoughts drift to less-innocent activities. I want him in every way possible. But this is wrong. It’s my wedding day. He isn’t my fiancé. He’s the head of a billion-dollar conglomerate, and he has dangerous eyes.
And then a darker part wonders – is this some kind of cruel prank? How can a man who looks like that be interested in a girl like me? I know I’m not the ideal size, not what Ivan is probably used to. Mama has told me time and time again that I am never going to be a model in a magazine. So what’s Ivan’s angle? I’m suspicious of his intentions, though I can’t take my hands off of him,
I imagine he’s a hell of a better kisser than Niko. The way his tongue moves so effortlessly into my mouth, I can tell he’s a pro at this. He knows what he’s doing and how to leave a woman breathless. I didn’t expect my first kiss to feel this way. I didn’t expect it to leave me so absolutely without my senses.
Of course, when I was younger, I’d fantasized that kissing Niko would be like this. There was a time, not so long ago, when Niko was my fantasy. But I knew he’d never want me on his own volition, who could? As we grew up, though, and I grew more into myself, I knew intrinsically that Niko would never give me the life I wanted.
Thoughts like that would horrify my mother. Her only goal in life is to be a trophy wife, and that’s what she’s tried to drill into me. She doesn’t care that I want to graduate from college, and maybe even pursue a graduate degree. Her dream is to make me the perfect bride, the perfect trophy wife. My job is to shut up and serve.
But that’s not who I am. I’m not a girl who’s going to blindly follow her husband around and give him whatever he wants. I do have aspirations higher than marrying well. I have a vision for my life that doesn’t include Niko. That’s not a life I can ever hope to gain, though. As long as I’m the daughter of Dimitri and Oksana Mikhailov, my only role in life is to marry well and be the perfect, obedient girl they raised.
The girl they raised would not be in a bathroom with a much older man, being swept away by his lips. They would be horrified if they could see me now. I should push him away, should knee him in the groin the way Papa taught me. Papa would be furious if he found me now. He’d probably murder Ivan Sidorov on sight. This should be the happiest day of his life, but his daughter is screwing it all up.
It’s not like I asked this man to kiss me. I didn’t invite him into my space. But I don’t push him away, either. I don’t knee him in the groin the way Papa taught me because something inside of me, on a sick, animalistic level, doesn’t want him to stop. I want him to ravage me.
Because what’s the harm of having a little fun before I give up all my hopes and dreams to marry Niko? This is a victimless crime. As soon as I get what I need from this man, I’ll straighten myself up and go back to Niko. I’ll walk down the aisle and do what’s expected of me. I deserve to have this one moment of fun, don’t I?
Without my permission, my arms wrap around his neck, and I hold tightly to him. His grip around my waist tightens as he pulls me up and wraps my legs around his waist. Even through the thick fabric of my wedding gown, I can tell he is hard for me.
I wonder at this, how such an attractive man can be turned on by me. And he’s so much older and more worldly. Hes’ probably been with hundreds of beautiful, stick-thin women, his experience makes me look childish. And I suppose compared to him I am a child. But I’ve never experienced anything like this in my life. He’s flooding my senses, making me forget all rational thought.
Something rises from the pit of my stomach, and I moan into his mouth. A wetness gathers between my legs, and I want this man to know me. Where the thought of Niko touching me has made me feel sick to my stomach, the idea of Ivan slipping his fingers inside me makes me weak.
What must it be like to be touched by this man? To be fucked by him. I moan again, anticipating what else he can do to me. My body is consumed by him, a fire started by the kindling he lit inside of me. His chest is pressed against mine, and I feel his ragged breathing, his quick pulse.
I’m having the same effect on him that he is having on me, and the power is delicious. Is that what Papa has been shielding me from my whole life? Did he not want me to know the power I could have over a man?
As Ivan kisses me, I feel nothing but resentment and anger toward my father. Why have I been denied this choice? I always imagined my first kiss would be with Niko, a boy I’ve grown to barely tolerate. And it wouldn’t be my choice. Our first kiss would be shared at the end of an aisle with hundreds of people watching.
At the reception, the elders would celebrate and tell me what a lucky girl I am. They would refuse to see the pain behind my eyes, the fear of what I have to endure once I’m Niko’s bride. After the festivities, he would carry me away to an expensive hotel room and put his hands on my body because it’s his right. But I wouldn’t have given him that right.
On the other hand, I want to sign that right away to Ivan in my own blood. I want him to touch every inch of exposed flesh and make me scream out his name. It’s so strange to be so immediately attracted to this man I’ve only seen in photos. His eyes are much more inviting than I could have ever imagined. His taste is much sweeter.
His lips move down to my exposed neck, one of the only places he can reach because of this ridiculous dress. If there weren’t so many damn buttons, I would tell him to tear it off to see the lingerie my mother handpicked. It’s stunning, and much easier to discard. I’d be able to feel the warmth of his hands.
I arch my back, trying to feel him closer. I’m frustrated by the fabric separating us, by the whole charade of this wedding in general. If my father hadn’t insisted I had to marry Niko right now, I wouldn’t be cheating on him in a cold bathroom with a man who equally scares me and excites me.
Ivan is strong and handsome. He’s everything I could want in a partner, though I’ve never dared let myself dream of what I want. Marriage was never supposed to be a means for me to fall in love and spend my life with a man of my choosing. It was always going to be another move in Papa’s endless chess game. As soon as he knew he was having a daughter, he started looking for the perfect groom for me.
Niko is obviously not that, but can this man be? The man who is so mercilessly attacking my mouth with his tongue and making me lose my senses? Is there more to marriage than great physical chemistry? If not, maybe I should take up Ivan on his offer to run away with him. Every cell in my body itches for me to. It’s insane and irrational, but I want to know him more.
If this is the way he can make me feel with just a kiss, I can’t imagine how much I can lose myself to him. I’m not completely ignorant. I’ve read romance books, and I know the right man can turn a woman inside out and make her forget her own name. Even now, I barely know who I am.
My plan of walking away from this experience and going through this marriage quickly slips through my fingers. Am I crazy? How could I possibly walk away from this man who’s offering himself to me so willingly? I shouldn’t have to deny myself of him. I should have the option to choose him.
A scream disrupts our corner of paradise, and I pull away from him with a horrified look on my face. He releases my legs so I can stand upright and at least maintain some small shred of dignity. The damage is done, though.
What’s worse, I know that scream, the high pitch that is too loud for this small space. Of course, she came looking for me. I’m not surprised in the least. If anything, I’m terrified. My oasis has been ruined, and now reality is crashing in. My mother looks at me with disdain and disgust.
She screams at me, Russian curses falling off her lips. She calls me every name in the book, a prostitute, a whore, a dirty street dog. I’ve never heard my mother use so many swear words around me, and I stand there shaking as her diatribe against me continues. This isn’t good.
She screams in Russian about how she and my father have given me everything I’ve ever asked for and I shouldn’t repay their kindness by sleeping around with dirty men. Ivan doesn’t shrink back from her words, but I feel about twelve inches tall. I’m a child again, not the woman I’ve grown into. And she’s right, of course. I shouldn’t have done this.
This isn’t who she raised me to be, even if I do resent her for that. She spent years drilling into me the importance of being the perfect woman and the perfect bride. The perfect bride does not make out with another man on her wedding day. She doesn’t have sexual fantasies about him while he kisses her senseless in her wedding dress. She doesn’t ruin everything her parents have worked so hard to build.
