Page 36 of Fierce Pursuit

To feel his hands in my hair, his voice raw with pleasure as he let go, as he gave in to me.

I had never let a man touch me before.

Not like that.

Not like him.

What would he think when he discovered the truth?

It wasn’t because I was saving myself for marriage.

But because I was saving myself for a man like him.

A man who could make me feel safe even when his hands were wrapped around my throat.

A man who could set my body on fire with just a touch.

How could the American boys I lived with ever compare to the Russian businessmen my family worked with? I had spent my life around the real monsters, men who wore tailored suits, who smelled of wealth, power, and the kind of danger that caused my stomach to flip.

Men who took what they wanted.

How was some fuckboy who whined when he got shot in a video game supposed to stack up against that?

He wasn’t.

And I had never wanted any of them.

But I wanted Kostya.

I was ready for him.

Ready to lose myself in every filthy fantasy I had ever had.

I readjusted the ends of Veronika’s shawl under my jacket.

Veronika’s shawl.

The one I wrapped around myself for comfort. The one that reminded me of home and all that I had lost.

And suddenly, the walls crashed down.

What would she say if she knew?

That not only had her husband kissed me, but that I had kissed him back?

That I had wanted more?

Would she have even cared?

He had been her husband, but it wasn’t as if she had been faithful.

Would that make it better?

Would it make it worse?

I didn’t know.

I didn’t know anything anymore.

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