Page 4 of Sinful Union

He doesn’t deserve my attention, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve to be desired.

But my body betrays me.

As we reach the altar, Vlad releases my arm, his grip on my hand lingering for just a second before he steps aside.

Pavel’s eyes lock onto mine. My knees feel slightly unsteady under the weight of his gaze.

“Kat,” he says, his voice deep and rough, sending a shiver down my spine.

Damn him. Damn me.

My jaw locks as he threads his fingers through mine like a trap, but I force myself not to look away. Pavel’s expression is unreadable, though there’s a knowing smugness. His lips twitch, the ghost of a smirk forming, which, God help me, I want to slap right off his face.

The officiant speaks, but the words barely register. My world has narrowed to the solid warmth of his hand in mine, to the maddening way his thumb consistently brushes lightly against my palm. The touch is so faint, but it sends heat licking up my spine, setting fire to every rational thought in my head.

I swallow hard, reminding myself why I’m here, why I agreed to this, and why I must go through with it.

My parents are dead because of him.

My daughter has lived her entire life in hiding because of him.

Pavel leans in slightly, his voice a quiet murmur between us. “You’re breathtaking,” he says.

Pavel's thumb strokes my palm like he remembers every inch of my skin. I squeeze back harder. Let him think it’s passion. The tighter he holds on, the easier it’ll be to slit his throat.

Chapter 2

Pavel

She looks like sin wrapped in white silk.

How the hell am I supposed to focus on the priest with her standing in front of me, looking like that?

"Blessed is the kingdom of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit..."

The years have only magnified her beauty, turning her into something beyond desirable. I want her more than I should, more than I have any right to.

The priest continues, and I can’t help but look down at her body, how sexy she looks in that gown.

The silk dress clings to her like a second skin, molding to the full swell of her hips, her waist, her breasts. The neckline is cut just low enough to be dangerous, the delicate lace doing nothing to hide the soft curves beneath.

I remember what she looked like without the silk, without the lace.

"Let us pray to the Lord..."

Six years ago, she was beneath me, her bare skin flushed and glowing in the dim light of my bedroom. No silk, no lace, just her, my hands fondling those perfect tits, my thumbs brushing over her hard, aching nipples, causing her to whimper softly.

I remember the way she looked on the bed, her legs spread, her perfect pink slit glistening.

I remember her eyes, the sensual hunger in them.

I remember the way she felt, warm and wet, so tight around my cock as she said my name, her thighs trembling.

I know these are thoughts I should not be having in church, but I can’t help it.

"O Lord, bless this union as Thou didst bless Cana of Galilee..."

She came so beautifully, her body tensing, then breaking apart beneath me, her nails digging into my back as she shattered.

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