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“Wait.” This is moving too fast, even for me.
Her touch last week ignited a fever in me. Made my obsession feel real. Finding out Alexei planned to hand her over to that disgusting piece of garbage, led me to that church today to steal her for myself.
She’s a Russian princess, even if Alexei slighted her for years. She grew up with money and privilege. But she has dreams for herself. I like that. Like her better for it.
“Let me guess,” she says. “You like it rough.”
She’s been in college for three years and must understand men to a degree. She’s also Bratva and has been exposed to ill-mannered, untamed animals who work for her father. Many probably boast about their whores around her. Alexei acted like she meant nothing to him, so his bosses probably followed his lead.
Arseholes.
“Aye. It will be rough at first.” The grittiness in my voice sends a blush across her cheeks. “But I’ll give you time to adjust. You’ll be very pleased with me in bed.” I hint at my willingness to go slow with her.
“I see.” She tosses the blanket off, offering herself to me. “Shall we get started?”
I study her body again and soak in what it does to mine.
Approaching her, I caress her face. “You were brutalized by a man last night. I won’t subject you to any more trauma.” My hand sweeps down her neck and next, fuck, my finger is circling an erect, pebbled nipple.
“Oh.” She bites her lip, turned on by my touch. “Mmmm.”
That soft feminine moan makes me lose my mind. I drop my hand and step away.
“Clean the blood from your neck.” I swallow, wanting to put my hands around her throat to feel her pulse. Feel how alive she is. “Do you need help unpacking?”
She pulls the blanket back around her shoulders, shielding that delightful little body from me. “Not tonight. I’m tired. And…a little hungry. Maybe tomorrow we can put everything away. Lachlan, are you serious about letting me go to the conservatory in London, if I get in?”
“I am,” slips out easily, followed by a cloud of dread. Then she’ll be gone. Why does that bother me?
“I need to audition in a month. Then the judges decide a week or so later.”
“I can persuade them.” I grin.
Her eyes slip closed. “I prefer to get in on my own merits.”
I think of how she danced two years ago in that gazebo. “How long have you been dancing?”
She shrugs. “Feels like forever. In Troyes, a local woman taught basic ballet. But when I moved here, Papa enrolled me in formal classes. Probably to get rid of me for a few extra hours.”
“But you dance beautifully.” My hands ball into fists. “I’ve been watching you, Katya. You deserve that spot in London.”
“It’s a paid scholarship for tuition and living expenses.”
“Even if it wasn’t, I’ll pay whatever you need beyond the scholarship.” I amble toward her again. “Either way, I can get you in there. Get you away from here. I can even have you enrolled under a different name, so yourPapanever finds you.”
“I don’t want to look over my shoulder the rest of my life.”
“You can stay married to me, or I’ll give you a divorce when you go to London. I’ll send you there with a guard. No one will bother you.”
“Okay.” Her cheeks redden.
That damn blush just fucking does something to me. She sits on the bed, bouncing to test the mattress that’s never been used.
“Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen,” I tell her. “I’ll make you something to eat, and you can tell me all about your plans after you graduate.”
Plans I will decimate if I decide I want her to be a real wife.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
