Page 77 of Fierce Pursuit

“What are you doing?” My back hit the cold tile.

CHAPTER 20

MARINA

Trapped.

I forced myself to keep my gaze on his face—to not let my eyes drop. But it was a battle I was already losing.

Because fuck.

His massive chest rose and fell, droplets of water trailing down the ridges of his abs, slipping lower—lower—and God help me, his cock was thickening by the second.

A dark, satisfied smirk curled his lips as he stripped out of his briefs and took another slow step forward, caging me against the back wall of the shower.

“I think that’s pretty obvious.”

The water ran down his skin, hot and relentless, washing away every streak of mud and filth that had clung to him. The dirt dripped away, revealing inked skin stretched taut over muscle. The sheer power of him made my breath hitch.

I should look away.

I tried to look away.

But it was physically impossible.

I knew he was big. But knowing it and seeing it, standing before me, broad shoulders tensed, abs carved from marble, his cock standing hard and proud was something else entirely.

My pulse pounded.

He reached for the soap, his large hands moving with slow, deliberate ease. The bar spun between his palms, lathering up, thick and creamy. White foam clung to his fingers, the sight sinful. My skin prickling with heat, my hands itched to take it from him. To press it against his chest. To drag it down every inch of his body, following its path with my fingertips. Then maybe even my mouth.

His gaze flicked up to mine, heavy-lidded, knowing.

“Are you going to take off your clothes and get clean,” he murmured, his voice dark velvet, “or are you just going to stand there and watch me?”

“There is no way I’m getting naked in here with you.”

I spat the words with every ounce of defiance I had left.

Proud of myself. Proud that, despite everything—the steam, the heat, the way my traitorous body responded to him—I still had some restraint.

Kostya laughed, a low, deep sound that coiled through me.

And just like that, I knew I was in trouble.

“I think you need to realize something.”

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark and feral.

“Your stunt pushed me beyond the point of beingreasonable. Beyond asking.” He took another step, water sluicing over the hard planes of his chest, sliding over his abs, dipping lower.

The space between us shrank to nothing.

“I’m telling you to take off your fucking dirty clothes and get clean,” he rasped against my skin. “Either you do it”—a slow, deliberate pause—"or I will.”

The air between us crackled, thick and electric, hunger and fury tangled into one impossible knot.

“Test me again, little one,” he murmured, towering over me, daring me to push him further. “See what happens.”

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