Page 39 of Owned By the Russian

His sharp eyes locked onto her, narrowing with suspicion as his hand gripped the doorframe.

“I?” she stammered, caught completely off guard. She cleared her throat and swallowed. “Nothing.”

His gaze swept over her, lingering on her guilty posture and the open cabinets behind her. “You’re awfully busy for someone who isn’t up to anything,” he said, his voice edged with amusement.

Valentina’s lips parted, her brain scrambling for an excuse. “I was just… uh, thirsty. I needed a glass of water,” she said, holding her chin in defiance.

Ilya’s smirk was slow and knowing as he stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the wooden floor. “A glass of water, huh?” he said, tilting his head. “Is that what you call digging through my kitchen like a thief?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shot back quickly, but her voice wavered slightly, betraying her.

He stopped right in front of her, towering over her with an infuriatingly smug expression. “You’re a terrible liar, Valentina Romano,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower.

She tried to back away, but the counter was at her back, and he leaned in, his arms bracketing her on either side. Her breath hitched as she caught a whiff of soap and heat coming off him.

“Why don’t you save us both some time,” he murmured, his lips curving into a dangerous smile, “and tell me what you’re really looking for?”

Chapter 14 - Ilya

Ilya’s self-control was hanging by a mere thread, fraying with every shallow breath he took. The way Valentina glared up at him, her lips parted in indignation and her chest rising and falling, wasn’t helping. She looked furious, yes, but there was something else there, too?something unspoken, something that fed the fire roaring inside him.

It was maddening.

Her hands gripped the edge of the counter behind her as his gaze locked on hers, intense and unrelenting.

“I told you, I was looking for a glass of water,” she snapped, her voice trembling with anger. No. It was something else. The thing fueling the fire in his chest.

“Liar,” he murmured, his lips barely an inch from her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Before she could retort, he couldn’t stop himself from inching closer as his fingers brushed against her waist, barely a touch, but it set his entire body aflame. He felt her stiffen beneath his touch, his senses scattering in every direction as his hand slowly trailed up her side.

“Stop,” she managed to say, her voice cracking pathetically.

But he didn’t. Instead, his palm flattened against her hip, pulling her just enough to close the small gap between them, their torsos now flushed together. His free hand slid up to her jaw, tilting her head so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Stop what?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, his thumb brushing lightly along her cheek. “Say it again, Valentina. Say it again, and I’ll leave you alone.”

He waited for her to snap at him, to shove him away, to say anything that would break the unbearable tension crackling between them?but the words seemed to die in her throat when his fingers traced the line of her jaw and slid down the curve of her neck.

Her silence only made him want to pin her against the counter and see how long she could hold onto that defiance before she melted for him. The thought of her pride unraveling under his touch, of hearing her bite back a moan instead of a retort, was driving him insane.

“You can’t even lie to yourself,Printsessa,” he whispered, his lips so close to hers he could feel the warmth of her breath. His grip on her waist tightened, and he heard her little whine. “I can feel it?you don’t want me to stop.”

She swallowed hard, her hands clutching the counter like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Keeping her sane.

“You’re insane,” she said, but the tremor in her voice made it sound more like a confession than an insult.

He smirked, his hand sliding to the small of her back, fingers pressing just enough to make her arch into him. A shudder ran through him when he felt her rock-hard nipples poking against his chest, and his cock twitched beneath his towel. “Maybe,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “But you’re the one who’s been sneaking around my kitchen, looking for an excuse to get closer.”

“I wasnot?”

Whatever protest she was about to make died as he bent down, his mouth ghosting over the side of her neck, not quite kissing, but enough to scramble her thoughts. Her breath hitched, her body warm under his touch, every nerve on edge as he tilted both their worlds on its axis.

Ilya’s fingers twitched at his sides, aching to rip off the thin barrier of fabric between them and map every inch of her bare skin. Every inch of restraint Ilya had left was unraveling with every breathless sound she made, with the way her body softened under his touch, her skin flushed and warm against his.

His fingers gripped her hips like a lifeline, but his mind was consumed by far filthier thoughts.

He wanted to take her right there, press her against the counter until she was trembling and helpless beneath him. He wanted to spread her legs wide and sink his throbbing cock into her slick, pulsing heat, to claim her in a way that left no room for denial. The image of her arching against him, her blood-red nails dragging across his back, carving marks into his skin as he fucked her hard enough to make her cry?God, it was driving him insane.

---