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“Like this?”
“Yes.”
Her lips curve into a mischievous smile. She looks down at the cards in her hands, then leans toward me, reaching over my shoulder for a card on the table. I move my hand to the small of her back and pull her closer until her breasts are crushed against me and her pussy settles over my rapidly hardening cock. The chatter around the room dies down. By all outward appearances, Sienna remains unperturbed, but she can’t hide the rapid rise of her chest from me.
“Getting distracted?” I ask and lean back slightly so I can see her reply.
“Not at all.”
“Hmm . . .” Taking the cards from her hand, I throw a quick look at what she’s got.
A winning hand, just as I thought.
“She won. You can all leave,” I say and toss the cards over my shoulder onto the table.
There is a sound of chairs scraping the floor and footsteps hurrying away behind my back. The crowd around us slowly disperses, as well.
“You ruined my game,” Sienna whispers, staring into my eyes.
“I did.” I lift my hand and stroke the line of her jaw. “What’s the deal with the dogs, Sienna?”
Her body goes utterly still, but the very next moment, she relaxes and smiles. “What do you mean?”
I tilt my head to the side and just watch her face. Her smile seems genuine. But it doesn’t reach her eyes. And she knows exactly what I mean.
“Well, I should get going now. I need to wash my hair,” she blurts out and climbs down off my lap. “See you later.”
I follow her with my eyes as she rushes to collect her earrings and the money from the table, then quickly leaves the room. Crossing my arms over my chest, I regard the door she disappeared through.
I will find out her secrets. It may take time since I suspect pushing her won’t yield any results. Doesn’t matter. I am a very patient man.
Chapter 8
I wake to the soothing sound of the shower drifting from the bathroom, but I didn’t need to hear it to know that Drago is no longer in bed with me. His warmth is absent, and I miss the sense of peace I’ve gotten used to over the past ten nights.
After my first endeavor to sleep in a separate room only to find myself back in Drago’s bed in the morning, I attempted that stunt twice more. Each time, my husband carried me to his room. I stopped trying to “escape” after that because I like sleeping with his body spooning mine more than I care to admit. And that’s all we’ve done so far. Sleep.
Other than holding me, he hasn’ttouchedme. I wish he would. A few times when I woke while he was still in bed, I pretended to still be asleep, enjoying being pressed to his hard chest. His chest wasn’t the only thing that was hard, and it freaked me out a little. I’ve never had sex before.
I’ve had a couple of boyfriends, but we never went further than first base. It’s not as if I was saving myself for marriage, and I’m not scared of the intimate act itself. It’s just . . . being attracted to someone physically has never been enough for me. An alluring body that had no impact on me mentally held as much of my interest as a bedazzled paperweight. Pretty to look at, but not essential in my life.
Whenever a guy pressed to have sex, I would break up with him. I just couldn’t handle the idea of getting that close to anyone. I had my reasons. Usually, when relationships reach a certain level, people tend to believe they’re entitled to “more.” More talking. More explanations. More ofyou. But the pieces ofmewere always locked away. Always hidden, especially from whatever man I happened to have been seeing. What if I did open up, letting him glimpse what hides behind my carefully composed facade, and he decided to leave? Or even worse, he stayed, and I developed feelings for him. No.
No feelings meant no hurt if anything bad happened. The pain and heartbreak weren’t worth the carnal experience.
My sister knows this about me. She’s always knownme.Asya once said that I need a man who can seduce my brain before I would allow him to fuck my pussy. Whatever the hell that means.
I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling, contemplating how lonely this enormous bed feels when Drago isn’t here with me. What would he say if I asked him to come back to bed after the shower so we could cuddle a bit longer? He would either laugh or think I’m trying to tempt him to have sex with me. If he acted like he wanted to, I would have jumped all over him, consequences be damned. But it’s not sex I’m after. I have this strange urge to just be close to him, to bury my face into his neck and absorb his scent. It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t help it.
The water shuts off, and two minutes later, my husband comes out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist.
I pretend I’m still asleep and watch him from beneath half-lowered lids. He has one of the most beautiful male bodies I’ve ever set eyes on. It’s not like I’ve seen many, but still. Wide shoulders and heavily muscled arms. Hard, chiseled abs that I could probably bounce a quarter off if I threw one. He walks toward the closet on the other side of the room, and I move my eyes to his back, observing the burn scars that cover the left side of his body. They are mostly concentrated across his shoulder blades and just below, but there are some on his forearm and the back of his hand. I noticed those only recently because they’re covered with tattoos.
I googled burns the other day and, based on everything I read and the images that showed the different stages of healing, I concluded that Drago has had skin grafts. Was he caught in a fire when he was younger?
Drago removes the towel, and I snap my eyes closed. An instinctive act for someone who’s not used to seeing a naked man. But my curiosity gets the better of me, and I lift my lids to ogle his ass. When he reaches to take something off the shelf, I glimpse his cock and squeeze my eyes shut again. Should it be that huge? I imagine his big cock sliding into me, wondering how it would feel, and bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a sigh.
The echo of approaching steps reaches me a split second before the duvet flies off my body.
