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The gravity of his words sink down on my shoulders like an anchor, pressing me deep into my seat. My heart races as I put the check down, sliding my shorts down and kicking them at him under the table. Next, I pull my hoodie off, revealing the tank-top underneath.
His eyes move over my body, examining me like he’s searching for flaws. I feel the need to impress him, to prove that I’m beautiful even though he doesn’t deserve to see this much of me.
Peeling away my tank top, I feel a surge of vindication as Pasha’s eyebrows lift with it. I push out my chest a little, showing off my breasts. My nipples are almost painfully hard, and my heart is beating loud enough for him to hear it, but I refuse to admit that I’m anything but annoyed.
I slump back down in my seat, hiding a smile as Pasha takes a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs it on his forehead. Here’s a man with all the money in the world, and probably all the women, too, and he’s sweating over a simple pair of tits.
Maybe he really is obsessed with me, but I still don’t understand why.
I fold my arms over my breasts, hiding them from his view. “Another round, perhaps?”
“Do you really want to go there?” he asks, his eyes crawling back up to mine.
“I want to go home, actually.”
He smirks. “Liar.”
“I’m serious,” I reply, looking up at the darkening sky. “It’s getting late already, and my boss will wonder where I went.”
“You quit,” he says. “It’s none of his business where you went.”
I take a sharp breath, remembering the unceremonious way I was brought here, stolen from work and driven half an hour to the top of a skyscraper to have dinner with a madman.
I didn’t quit my job. I was kidnapped.
“Walk away, if you’re so eager to go,” Pasha says, gesturing toward the hatch a few yards behind me.
I’m surprised by his offer, but maybe I shouldn’t be. He knows I’m not going to take the easy way out. I play for keeps. It’s all or nothing, and I’m already itching to start another round of his carnal game.
“Let’s go again,” I say, dropping my arms and sitting up straight. “Anything I want.”
“Anything, but if you lose, you’re going to have to do something for me.”
“What, exactly?” I ask, my heart beating all the way up into my throat as I speak. I’m putting myself in an absolutely dire situation, but the more I dig and the deeper I go, the more I feel like I was meant to lose.
Like I already belong to Pasha Chazov.
“Valerie Castor Morgan,” he says, his eyes going dark as he rises from his chair. “Tonight, you’re going to give me every last ounce of your dignity.”
10
Valerie
Pasha walks around the table, coming up behind me and placing his hands on my bare shoulders. His skin is warm but surprisingly rough against mine, like he spends a lot of time working with his hands. I wouldn’t expect him to lift a finger doing what he does, but perhaps the callouses are from all the time he spends at the gym.
“Just what is my dignity worth to you?” I ask, looking up at him. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to him, and it’s making me feel a bit light-headed. My cheeks are flushed, and my skin is prickling with every squeeze of his authoritative hands.
“It’s worth everything I have.” His voice is scratchy and deep in his throat.
A wave of pleasure rolls through me, hot and cold at the same time, as Pasha massages my shoulders. His fingers pull the tension out of my muscles, turning me into a compliant puddlein my chair. I shouldn’t allow him to do this, but after everything I’ve been through, his careful attention is pure relief.
His hands move to the back of my neck, pressing into the sides in a way that suggests what he’d do to me if he was already inside me. I’ve never been fucked like that before, but I think about it often. Every man I’ve been with has been too shy or too good of a person to put his hands around my neck, but I can’t deny that it’s what I want.
I want to feel helpless, to finally be able to let go.
Pasha pushes his thumbs into the base of my skull, releasing an immeasurable amount of tension there.
I let out a deep sigh. “Jesus, how did you get so good at this?”
