Page 37 of Fate and Family

“And what about the other sounds?” He says in a dark whisper, like he’s testing my newly found commitment to the truth.

“I allowed myself to play out the fantasies I’ve had in my head since I met you.” Lifting his left hand off his lap, I place it on my leg. “Go ahead and feel.” His fingers brush under the towel and glide slowly off my thigh. My breath hitches as he touches the slick skin between my legs.

“Did you finish?”

His voice is dark, and I can’t bear to look at his face. Is he mocking me? Is he disgusted?

“No,” I whisper while holding his wound together at the seams, closing the injury as his fingers part my seam and continue his slow strokes.

Focus on him, his injuries, keeping him alive.

But he turns his head and his breath whispers against my ear. “I can fix that.”

His words send a pulse of pleasure and fear through my body. His thumb swirls around my nub, evidence to support his claim. His finger slides inside of me and I gasp at the intrusion, almost dropping the tube of liquid stitches. He moves slowly as if he’s giving me an opportunity to revoke my implied consent. Once his finger hits a natural stopping point, he groans, and as he leans his head against the wall, his eyes flutter closed.

Applying another layer of the stitches, I ask, “You hate me. Why would you?”

His thumb makes lazy circles. It’s soft and delicate, like a tease. “I have many…” he lingers on the word, “feelings about you.” His finger reaches my entrance and circles the inner rim, stretching and making me crave more. “Your betrayal both slices me to the core and…” he pauses and his brow furrows, “honors me? That’s not the right word, but it’s something similar.” He slides his finger out and glides it against my clit, spreading my arousal. “Fuck, is this all for me?” His eyes remain closed as his lips part, pulling my gaze like a magnet.

Recalling our kiss—his taste, the way his tongue worked with mine, and how his hands felt on my body—I exhale. “Yes.”

His lips curl into a grin. “You’re so wet, my little otter.”

Otters are not sexy. If he wants to continue to do this, I need a better nickname.

His thumb resumes its circular motion, and with more lubrication it sends my arousal into overdrive. But as I moan, thecorners of his lips fall and his expression darkens. “Svetlana was never this welcoming of me.”

Sveti. It always comes back to that bitch.

He continues, “It’s one of the reasons I stopped touching her.”

Cleaning the last of the blood with the towel, I try to distract, or maybe to prolong this moment, I’m not sure which. “Did you stop touching her because she was a cheating bitch who took every opportunity to emasculate you in hopes that it would make it easier to control you? God, she was the fucking worst.”

Dimitri freezes for a second and opens his eyes, rolling his head toward me. “Yes, she did.” Reality hitting him like a sunrise, he seems more confused than embarrassed. “She used to complain I couldn’t get her off, then fake not having an orgasm.”

What? I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale all my rage. But you know what? It doesn’t work. “Why? How? I don’t understand.”

He laughs and it’s glorious. “Because she was the worst.” As a reward, he resumes fingering me, this time at a faster rate. His face softens as his voice darkens. “We were already broken, but I stopped touching her after you walked into my bar.”

He keeps his gaze deadlocked on me, while I split my attention between bandaging his shoulder and enjoying the way he’s working me to an edge. My cheeks flush and my heart feels like it wants to pound its way out of my chest. The pleasure builds faster than it did before. Once the bandage is taped and he’s not going to bleed to death, I can concentrate on how he’s making me feel.

“You wouldn’t fake anything with me, would you?” he whispers.

A second finger fills me and I gasp out a moan. Stepping closer, I fill the space between his legs, giving him easier accessto my body and, even better, giving myself a chance to feel how excited he might be. His erection presses against my thigh. He wants this. He wants me.

I’m not sure what to do with my hands now that the triage is complete. His chest seems like the logical location. “No more lies with you.”

I can feel his heart race beneath his almost stoic seriousness, his hazel eyes never wavering. He increases his speed, my body welcoming him. The mounting pressure bears down on me, and I don’t know where to focus. His free hand runs up my arm, lacing into my hair at the back of my skull. I can’t leave. He’s trapping me, and I love it.

A rush of pleasure consumes my body, and as I shake under its pressure, crying his name and moaning something I can’t comprehend. All logic has left my body.

I notice his self-important grin right before he launches to kiss me hard. I want to lay in this post orgasmic haze, but his tongue and mouth keep me focused. More, my brain screams. I want more.

I shouldn’t. But I do. And there’s no reason to deny myself any longer.

My fingers graze over his stomach and hook onto his belt loop. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Stroking his cock over his pants, he stifles a low groan.

“You’ve already done so much.” His voice is barely a whisper.

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