Page 64 of Possessive Vows

I swallow my embarrassment, fix my hair, and take a deep breath as I meet Dimitri’s eyes.

Warmth pulses low in my abdomen. With his suit coat hanging on the hook by the door, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, the ends of his tie hanging loose around his collar, and the top buttons of his shirt undone, he sits on the multi-purpose machine seat with his knees spread wide, his feet braced on the floor, and a ridiculous amount of weights lifted into the air as he pushes the handles away from his chest.

“Again,so´lnyshka,” he growls.

A hint of fear niggles at the base of my skull from the guttural quality of his voice, but the ferocity in his icy-blue eyes locks me in the present.

I nod and take the fake knife back from Loretta. This time, I wrap both hands around the hilt and drive it into the bag so hard the impact vibrates into my wrist and up my arm.

Loretta gives me pointers on how to put more force behind the blade without tweaking my joints. On how to make the sharp edge do the dirty work for me.

My next swing compresses the blade all the way, and although my fingers ache from clenching around the hilt, my arm doesn’t hurt beyond an ache in my muscles.

I tuck the blade back into my belt and run through the process several times until I no longer dread the jolt of impact. Feeling more confident, I swap to my non-dominant hand and fumble through stabbing the punching bag a couple of times before something clicks in my brain and every ounce of doubt rolls off my shoulders. My movements become more fluid and coordinated. I turn off my mind and attack the bag with the rage festering in my soul, striking faster and harder each time.

Loretta suggests a new position. I rise from the chair. She pulls it away from the bag and pivots it halfway, so when I sit back down, my shoulder faces the bag. I massage my aching arms as she pulls the cabinet—which is on wheels—in front of me and props the mat from the floor on it for padding.

Weights clatter as Dimitri begins another set of chest presses. My mouth waters as his muscles bulge. He’s unbelievably sexy.

I snap my attention back to Loretta when she speaks.

“In this new scenario, you have limited mobility and are in close quarters with your attacker. This—” she smacks the back of the mat-covered cabinet—“is the front seat of the car. You’ll have to hit this asshole here—” she jabs the side of her fist into the punching bag above my shoulder, — “in his shoulder or chest to do any damage because he’s leaning in for you, so his body is further back.Capisci?”

I nod as I gauge the limited space around me. My mind places a car seat beside me. I haven’t met Zoya yet, but the thought of a miniature, feminine version of Dimitri relying on me fills me with determination.

The punching bag rocks from the force of my blow, but my grip slips and the dummy blade pinches my hand. I hiss, drop the knife, and cradle my wrist to my chest.

Dimitri’s gigantic hands encompass mine. He pulls my forearm away from my body and uncurls my fist with his thick digits. The red, welted line across my palm stings, but the plastic didn’t cut my skin.

“You are done with the blade today,” he murmurs.

When I inhale, the smell wafting from him scrambles my brain and fills my blood with heat. His subtle cologne mingles with the hint of sweat and man. I swallow as yearning fills me. I want to taste him again.

“I don’t want to stop,” I hear myself say, but I’m not sure if I mean the self-defense lessons or something more intimate.

He caresses my palm with his thumb.

“No more today, Camilla. Save your strength,” he says.

My clit pulses. I shift in my seat. His gaze narrows on my face.

He mutters something to Loretta, but my mind refuses to compute the words. His soft lips and hard jawline hold my attention captive.

The door closes behind Loretta. My heart pounds against my sternum and a matching rhythm thrums through my clit.

Dimitri tosses his tie onto the floor and opens a few more buttons on his shirt as he leans his face down to mine.

“You look hungry,so´lnyshka, but you have already eaten. It is my turn to feast,” he murmurs.

His breath ghosts over my face as his lips brush against mine. It’s too much but not enough. I need more.

Despite my arms feeling like a million pounds from exertion, I close my fists in his hair and tug him closer. Our lips meet and tongues duel in a desperate kiss, and I moan into his mouth, eager for so much more. When he cups my head as though I’m the most precious and delicate person in the world, tears sting my eyes and need zaps straight to my intimates.

He pulls back and licks my bottom lip when I whimper.

“Tell me no and I’ll stop, but I need to taste you.da,so´lnyshka?” he growls.

Although fear wraps around my spine, it’s nothing compared to what I expect. My heart recognizes Dimitri beyond my five senses, making it easy to push away the panic swirling in the back of my mind.

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