Page 33 of Chain Me

I melt into Erik's strong arms as he cradles me against his chest. His fingers trace gentle patterns across my sensitized skin, soothing the marks he left during our passionate encounter. His lips brush my temple, and the kiss is so different from the demanding kisses we shared earlier.

“Are you alright?” His voice rumbles through his chest where my head rests.

“Mmm.” I’ve lost the ability to form proper words, still floating in that blissful space between pleasure and reality.

Erik's hand smooths down my back, and he pulls the soft blanket over us both. The tenderness makes my heart ache. This isn't the brutal Ivanov enforcer everyone fears—this is just Erik holding me like I'm precious.

His lips find my forehead again, trailing down to my cheek. “You're trembling.”

I am, but not from cold or fear. Every brush of his skin against mine sends little sparks through my body. The heat of him wrapped around me, the masculine scent of his skin—it's intoxicating. My pussy responds immediately. Desire coils through me again despite how thoroughly he just claimed me.

Erik's breath hitches as I press closer, seeking more contact. His arms tighten around me protectively, possessively. I trail my fingers across his chest, feeling his heart rate pick up.

“Katarina.” My name is a warning and a prayer on his lips.

I need more of him. My lips find his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. His whole body tenses, and I know he feels this magnetic pull between us that refuses to be denied, too.

14

ERIK

Ijolt awake, my hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside me. The sheets still hold her warmth, but Katarina is gone. Memories of last night flood back—her soft skin against mine, the way she yielded to my touch, how perfectly she fit in my arms as we drifted off.

I scrub my face with my hands, trying to shake off this... weakness. This isn't me. I don't let anyone get this close. But from the moment I saw her at that charity gala, something shifted inside me. She stood there in that black dress, all elegance and fire, working the room like she owned it. My eyes tracked her all night, drawn to the subtle sway of her hips, the flash of intelligence in her eyes, the way she commanded attention without even trying.

I knew then I was completely fucked.

The smart move would have been to keep my distance, maintain the cold professional facade I've spent years perfecting. Instead, I let her under my skin and past my defenses. Now she's in my bed, in my head, making me question everything I thought I knew.

My fingers curl into the sheets where she had lain. The scent of jasmine and something uniquely her lingers. I breathe it in, hating how much I crave it—how much I crave her.

She was mine from that first moment, whether either of us knew it or not. There's no stopping this inevitable spiral pulling us both deeper. The warrior in me rails against this loss of control, but for the first time in my life, I'm not sure I want to fight it.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My heart slams against my ribs as reality crashes in. She's not supposed to be in this section. The guard quarters are too close to the perimeter, and there are too many blind spots in security. I leap from the bed, yanking on pants and grabbing my gun.

“Viktor!” I bark into my comm. “Status report.”

Static crackles. No response.

Blood pounds in my ears as I storm through the corridors, checking each room. The gym's empty. Kitchen's clear. Fuck. She's not inside.

The morning air hits my bare chest as I burst outside, scanning the tree line. Footprints in the dew-dampened grass lead toward the forest. I follow them, muscles coiled tight, ready for anything.

Except what I find.

There she sits on a fallen log, knees pulled to her chest, watching the sunrise filter through the leaves. Her dark hair tumbles loose down her back, my T-shirt hanging off one shoulder.

If this is an escape attempt, it's the worst I've ever seen.

“You're breaking protocol,” I growl, keeping my distance. She could have a weapon. Could be waiting for extraction. Could be?—

“The sunrise is beautiful here.” Her voice is soft, almost dreamy. “We never see it like this in the city.”

She turns to look at me, green eyes clear and unguarded in the morning light. No calculation. No schemes. Just peace.

“You shouldn't be out here.” The words come out rougher than intended.

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