Page 31 of Sold to the Russian
He heard his sister’s voice again.Give her space. He’d done the exact opposite after fixing the door and changing the locks so she wouldn’t be able to lock him out again. He’d been giving her ample space since that day, but it was starting to irritate him. The longer he stared at his watch, the more he realized that she was wasting his time on purpose.
So, after knocking on her door three times and not getting a response, he didn’t think twice as he muttered a curse and barged in. His mouth was opened, about to say words that he couldn’t remember because they fled his brain the moment he laid his eyes on her.
Maeve stood in front of the mirror, fastening a cluster of earrings, seemingly unbothered and unaffected by his presence. Her reflection stared back at him in the glass, and his heartbeat quickened at the same time that his body hummed with desire.
She was wearing a black dress he didn’t remember buying. Skin-tight and short, barely covering the curve of her thighs, held up by the thinnest of straps around her neck that looked like they could snap if she breathed too hard. The neckline plunged, and the back was almost non-existent, exposing the delicate curve of her spine. She hadn’t bothered with a bra either. Her long red hair had been curled and left loose, trailing over one shoulder with a few strands framing thesides of her face. Thigh-high heels covered her feet, the tips sharp enough to gouge out a man’s eye.
“I’m starting to wonder who raised you, because I think it’s universal knowledge that it’s rude to barge into a woman’s room while she’s dressing,” she said, her voice nonchalant as she turned to look at him, a perfectly arched, dark brow raised.
There was makeup around her eyes, glittering and black, like tiny pieces of black ice shimmering around her eyelids. Her lips were blood red, full, and delectable.
Fedya’s grip on the doorknob tightened. The sight of her made him dizzy with want. He wanted to rip the flimsy material off her, wanted to sit her down on the table where all of her makeup was littered and eat her out till she cried, wanted to bend her over before she could recover, and fuck her attitude out of her.
And then,then, his stomach twisted with the realization that he wouldn’t be the only one who saw her this way. They were going to an event where there would be dozens and dozens of eyes on her,menlike him, staring at what was his. He couldn’t, for the life of him, entertain the thought of them seeing her like this. Staring at her skin, her back, her tits, her waist, the curve of her ass in that dress. It made him sick, made his head spin, made his eyes twitch involuntarily.
Maeve frowned, narrowing her eyes at him. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
His brain was short-circuiting. He was thirsty, but he wasn’t craving water. “What are you wearing?”
“What does it look like?”
“I didn’t buy you that.”
“Well, it was in one of the bags you gave me,” she said, twirling slightly to look at herself in the mirror. “I think it looks rather lovely on me.”
She’ll love what I’ve picked out for her.Fedya’s temple throbbed when he remembered his sister’s words. Of course, Irina did this. What other things had she thrown into those bags without his knowledge? What other tempting items had she packed?
“Change,” he said simply.
Maeve didn’t react. It looked like she was expecting him to say that. “You’re so predictable, Fedya. Why the hell would I do that? And you’d better not give me some caveman answer like ‘because I told you to’.”
He took a step forward, and his cock seemed to imitate him in his pants. “Maeve.”
She folded her arms across her chest, pushing her cleavage up in a way that made his throat feel narrow. “Why? If I’m playing fake online girlfriend, I at least have to look the part.”
“You’re not walking into a family event dressed like that.”
“You bought this dress, Fedya.”
“It’s not about the dress.”
“Then what is it about? Because from my point of view, you want me to take it off, which of course, I won’t be doing.”
And it really wasn’t. He didn’t have any real issue with the dress. Not when his body was reacting magnanimously to the way the fabric clung to her like a second skin. Her legs looked endless in those heels. Her collarbones begged for his attention. And her eyes—infuriating, stubborn, smug—made him want toshut her up in so many creative ways, none of which had anything to do with words.
But she was his, and that was the problem, because everyone would look. And he didn’t like to share.
He slid his jacket off his body, walked towards her, and draped it over her shoulders without asking. His jacket dwarfed her, hanging down to her mid-thigh, the scent of his cologne clinging to his collar. He could smell her too, a rich, intoxicating lavender scent on her skin, roses in her hair. She looked up at him, thrown by the sudden gesture.
“Everyone will be there,” he said, almost cracking his fingers in his attempt to stop them from touching her. “Generations of family members. I don’t want you to be embarrassed by anyone.”
She took a step forward, lifting her chin as the jacket settled onto her frame. “Show me off then.”
Fedya felt a knot in his throat as he stared at her mouth. “You’re not changing, fine. But you stay by my side. All night.”
“Why?” she laughed in his face. “What, are you afraid someone might flirt with me?”
“No one who cares for their life would do that.”
