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He slides the strap of my cami top from my shoulder and it falls away, exposing my breast. “No.” He takes my nipple in his mouth and sucks until it hardens.
“Like ever?” I ask, trying to ignore the reaction he’s causing inside me. “Did you take her like you did me?”
“I answered your question, Grace,” he murmurs, going back to teasing my nipple.
“It’s not fair. You know so much about me, and I know nothing about you. Tell me something real, Ivan. Please.”
It works because he releases my nipple on a sigh and rests his head against the headboard. “We fell in love the old-fashioned way,” he says. “I met her when she accidentally ran her bicycle into my very expensive car. It scratched the paintwork, and she was extremely apologetic. I was drawn to her . . . innocence.”
“Did she pay for the damage?”
He smiles, staring at the opposite wall like he’s picturing that exact time. “Not with money. I told her I’d let her off if she agreed to have coffee with me. Coffee turned to dinner, and we were never really apart after that day.” His smile fades and is replaced by a frown.
“She just stayed with you after dinner?”
“I couldn’t be apart from her,” he admits, looking confused and lost. “It was like she became the light I needed to keep breathing. It was a whirlwind.Shewas a whirlwind.”
“How did she die?” I whisper.
His jaw tightens. “She was taken from me. The police say she was robbed in broad daylight, but I believe she was targeted.”
“How did a robbery turn into her death?”
“She refused to let go of her bag. When she eventually did, she fell back and hit her head. It was hard enough to kill her.”
“So, you didn’t get to say goodbye?”
He shakes his head and inhales sharply. “Enough.” He sits up, and for a second, I think he’s leaving, but he removes his shirt. “I came here for a reason, sladost. Stop distracting me.”
He pulls me to sit over him, pulling the straps to my camisole until it’s around my waist. “I gave you enough information, now you should do the work.”
“Ivan,” I mutter, trying to climb from him.
He pins my thighs either side of him. “Being inside you helps me to forget,” he whispers, and I see a flicker of vulnerability. “I need to forget.” And then he lifts me slightly, encouraging me to move towards his face. His mouth finds my opening, and I’m lost to him once again.
I wake the next morning, and Ivan is wrapped around me. He never stays, so I’m confused and way too hot. Sliding from his grip, I glance back. He looks peaceful and almost human without that angry scowl.
I dress and head down to the dining room where Maria usually has breakfast waiting. But the table is empty, and I check the clock in the hall. It’s only six-thirty. She usually serves at seven. I take a seat at the head of the table, where Ivan usually sits, and open his newspaper. It’s been so long since I’ve had a glimpse of anything outside these four walls, I find myself reading about things that never usually interest me, such as politicians. I glance up at the sound of heavy boots and find Maxim staring at me with hatred. It’s how all the men here look at me. “Good morning,” I say, forcing a smile.
“You’re in the wrong seat.”
I nod, shifting to the next seat. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“You’ve made yourself very comfortable,” he mutters, and I remain quiet. “Don’t get used to it, vor.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, narrowing my eyes because I’m sure he isn’t saying a kind word.
“Thief,” he clarifies. “Don’t get used to being here, thief.”
“I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be here,” I snap. “In fact, open the door and I’ll happily leave.”
He moves his arm swiftly towards the door, indicating I can go. “Please, be my guest.” I stand, wondering if it’s a trick. “Go,” he adds.
I move towards the exit, but as I pass him, he slams his arm across the doorway so I can’t go farther. “Are you sure? Because I hear your cries of ecstasy when he fucks you, vor. I think you enjoy being here.”
“If you want me to go, let me leave,” I hiss.
“What is it about you?” he muses.
