Page 95 of No Longer Mine

“Pajamas?”

What did he say?

I shrugged. “Side table drawer?”

He frowned down at me. “Are you sure?”

I blinked some more. “Huh?”

“Oh, man.” He let out before he exited back to my bedroom.

Chapter Forty-One

Dimitri

Scarlett was a mess.Her head lolled against her shoulders, her unfocused gaze drifting somewhere beyond me. The wound had finally stopped bleeding, and I’d washed away every trace of blood. She was as clean as I could get her while keeping my wits about me.

I couldn’t look at her for too long.

Because the moment I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I wanted her. Badly. Painfully. Jaw clenched, I adjusted myself as I carried her into the bedroom.

“Pajamas,” I murmured, more to myself than to her. “You said they were in the nightstand?”

She hummed something incoherent, her body limp in my arms.

I didn’t buy it. No woman kept pajamas in a nightstand. But women were strange creatures, and Scarlett was the strangest of them all.

I pulled the drawer open slowly, half expecting something to jump out and bite me. Instead, I nearly choked. Pajamas, all right. Buried beneath four dildos, two vibrators, and what looked like soft play bondage. Heat licked up my spine. Thepainfully hard boner I’d been sporting? Yeah. Now it was unbearable.

Scarlett’s head lolled toward me, her lips curling into a lazy, drugged-out smile and then she giggled.

“I keep pajamas in my closet too,” she mused, voice soft and syrupy. “But I thought this would be more fun.”

She wanted to play? Fine. I could play.

I reached into the drawer, taking my time as I pulled out each toy—slow, conscious movements, letting the air stretch between us. One by one, I laid them out beside her on the bed, watching the color creep up her neck, pink deepening into red, then something darker.

Her gaze flicked from the toys to me, her breathing unsteady.

I smirked.

“Do you think of me when you fuck yourself?” My voice was low and quiet.

She swallowed hard, her teeth catching her bottom lip. “Um.”

I leaned in, brushing my knuckles over her flushed cheek. “Two can play that game, Scarlett.”

My control was slipping.

I forced myself to focus, digging past the arsenal of toys until my fingers found something soft—black lace. The negligee was nearly transparent, delicate in a way that mocked the situation we were in. But it didn’t matter. I’d already seen everything. Right now, she just needed to be covered.

Her gaze never left me as I carefully slid the garment over her head, my movements slow and calculated. She winced a few times, her body stiff with pain, but she didn’t fight me. When the fabric finally settled around her, she sagged back against the bed, red hair fanning around her like something out of a painting.

I was so fucked.

I should have pulled out a button-down pajama set from her closet. Something that didn’t leave her soft curves exposed and didn’t cling to her like temptation itself. I was going to have to check her wound in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t do that with her bare pussy staring back at me.

Exhaling sharply, I dragged a hand down my face. This was all my fault. I should have let her have her little game and walked away. Instead, I was stuck here, painfully aware that there was no turning back.

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