Page 23 of Sinful Union

Her fingers tangle in my hair as she presses her lips against mine.

I kiss her back—hot, deep, punishing—as I thrust into her one last time, pushing her over the edge, her moans swallowed by my mouth as she comes again. The sensation drags me under with her, a guttural sound tearing from my throat as I spill inside her, losing myself completely. I collapse on top of her. Neither of us moves for a long time.

Her body is still trembling beneath me, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps. I’m still inside her, my weight braced on my forearms, my breath heavy against her skin. After a couple of minutes, I roll to the side. She curls into me, pressing her face against my chest.

I inhale sharply, surprised by the sudden, unexpected softness of it. She shifts; her voice barely audible. “Stay.”

One word. A quiet plea.

I don’t answer. I don’t move.

I stay.

Chapter 12

Pavel

The ocean stretches out endlessly, glittering like a sheet of diamonds. The air is thick with the scent of sea salt. A few yards away, our private chef prepares a delicious meal of fresh, grilled seafood.

Kat isn’t a woman who gets lost in thought for no reason. She looks calm, relaxed even, but I know better. She’s here physically, but she’s somewhere else entirely mentally. Something seems off. I think back to last night, replaying our lovemaking. I’d taken her, claimed her, made her mine. For a woman like Kat, who’s bold and independent, that dynamic does not come naturally.

But she took me willingly, wholeheartedly, and it was amazing. Maybe she’s having regrets about marrying me, but I sure as hell don’t.

She pushes a piece of fruit around her plate, her gaze locked on the horizon, but there’s no focus behind it.

I pick up my wineglass and take a slow sip, watching her carefully, giving her time to pull back from wherever her mind has taken her. But she remains locked in her thoughts, drifting further away.

I set my glass down. “What are you thinking about?”

Her fork stills, her fingers tightening around it just slightly.

For a brief second, her expression appears unguarded, then just as quickly, the blank stare returns. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, blinks once, and pastes on a practiced smile. “I was just wondering what your house looks like,” she replies, reaching for her wine lass.

Complete lie. Too easy. Too polished.

I don’t call her out on it. Not yet anyway.

“My house?”

She nods.

“Yeah. I mean, we’re husband and wife now. That means we’re going to be living together. I’d like to know what kind of home I’m moving into.”

Kat has never been good at lying, and in this moment, she’s lying through her teeth.I know every little tell she has, even after being apart all this time. The slight hesitation before she speaks, like she’s filtering her thoughts. The barely-there shift in her posture, like she’s bracing for something. The way her fingers tap against the table in a calculated beat as she prepares her next move. I know her too well. In my line of work, a man lives or dies by how well he can read people.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table.“It’s a penthouse. Takes up the entire top floor of the building.”

Kat tilts her head, considering. “Do you own the whole building?”

“I do.”

Her lips part just slightly, and I can see the wheels turning in her head, the way she’s processing this little piece of information.

“It’s in Tribeca,” I continue. “The building is on a quiet street, tucked between old industrial lofts that have been turned into multimillion-dollar condos. A lot of old money, but also a lot of new money trying to prove itself. I don’t deal with any of that.”

I grin, taking another sip of wine. “There are a few tenants on the lower-level floors, but I rarely see them. I have a private elevator that goes up to my penthouse.”

Kat sets her glass down, her fingers running idly over the rim. “I think I remember it,” she says, more to herself than to me. “When we were younger, I begged Piotr to take me with him to pick you up once.”

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