Page 58 of Sin Wager
"Not this time."
She stands abruptly, pacing to the window where she swipes the tears from her cheeks. When she turns back to me, her face is transformed, hope and disbelief warring in her expression.
"You're really saying you'll pay for Elvin's treatments? All of them?"
"Yes."
"And you want nothing from me?"
"I want you safe. I want your family safe. That's all."
She crosses the room in three quick steps. Before I can react, she's in my lap, her hands framing my face, her mouth on mine. The kiss is gratitude, full of a desire I recognize because I feel it too.
"Vera," I murmur against her lips.
"Misha, you… I …. You don't know what this means to me." Her hands are already working at the buttons of my shirt. I catch her wrists, stilling her movements.
"You don't owe me anything," I tell her. "You don't have to do this."
"This isn't about owing." Her eyes are bright, fierce. "This is about wanting. I want you, Misha. I want to be with you. Can't you see I love you?"
Her confession spools warmth through my belly and outward into my body. I sit dazedly as I release her wrists and she immediately returns to my shirt, pushing the fabric aside to press her palms flat against my chest. Her touch burns, sears the hardened edges of my ragged soul I thought no one would ever see. But she's seen me and judged me worthy of her affection, and all I can think is how desperately I feel the same, but to tell her that is to suck her into the vortex that is my life. It's not safe.
"Vera," I whisper again, and she presses her lips to mine in a scorching kiss.
"Do not push me away. My heart can't take that, Misha." The kiss that follows is hotter still, pulling every last ounce of resolve I have and destroying my will to keep her at arm's length.
Her kiss drags me under, her mouth hot and desperate against mine. She shifts, straddling my lap in the chair, her hands running over my chest, nails grazing the scars across my skin. I grip her hips and grind her down against my cock, already thick and straining against my trousers.
She gasps into my mouth. “I need you, Misha. Right here.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I mutter, but I keep grinding her against me, the friction making her whimper.
Her eyes burn into mine. “I know exactly what I’m asking for. Stop treating me like I’ll break.”
That shreds the last of my restraint. I yank open the button of her jeans, drag the zipper down, and shove the denim past her hips. She lifts to help me, kicking them free. Her panties are damp, clinging to her, and when I slide my fingers across the thin fabric she moans into my neck.
Her moan vibrates against my throat, her hips shifting to grind down harder on my lap. She fumbles with my belt, frustrated hands tugging until the metal gives. I shove my trousers open and free myself, the air thick with heat and her quick breaths.
She brushes against me through the thin fabric still between us and gasps, clutching my shoulders.
“Stop making me wait,” she demands, her voice raw.
I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You think you can order me?”
Her eyes flash, a challenge burning there. “I know I can. Because you want this as much as I do.”
I bare my teeth, sliding the lace aside. “You’re going to ride me until you can’t speak.”
“Then don’t hold back,” she throws back, and before I can answer, she sinks down on me.
The heat of her clenches around me, pulling a growl from my chest. I grip her hips to keep her still, savoring the way she takes me all the way in. Her nails bite into my shoulders, her forehead pressed to mine, our breaths colliding.
“God, Misha,” she gasps. “Every time, you ruin me.”
I thrust up hard, forcing a cry from her lips. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
She starts to ride me, slow at first, rocking her hips with maddening control. The chair creaks beneath us. Her hair falls into her face, sticking to her damp skin. I tuck it behind her ear, then fist it and yank her head back.
