Page 76 of Stolen Empire
He follows seconds later, thrusting deeper, spilling inside me with a guttural groan, his face buried in my neck.
We stay like that, tangled and spent, breaths ragged in the quiet aftermath.
His weight pins me, but it’s comforting now, a blanket of possession I shouldn’t crave.
Slowly, he lifts his head, brushing a strand of hair from my face with surprising gentleness as I lower one leg at a time until his full weight rests on me.
His eyes search mine, vulnerability flickering beneath the steel.
I trace a finger over his jaw, feeling the stubble, the strength.
Why him?
Because in his danger, I find my fire.
He’s controlling, yes—obsessive, lethal.
But he sees me, the real me, the con artist who thrives on risks.
And that turns me on more than anything, the thrill of being wanted by a man who could have anyone, yet chooses to fight for me.
He kisses me softly this time, lingering, as if sealing a pact.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs.
And in this moment, spent and sated, I don’t want to.
"Promise?" I ask him in a breathy whisper.
"I mean it when I tell you, you're mine, Katya. No one else will ever touch you again. Do you understand me?"
"Mmm," I hum, letting my eyes shut and my body melt under his.
"Again," I say, and his teeth sink into my neck.
"If I'm yours, do it again."
14
DIMITRI
The paddock is crowded when I walk Katya out.
It's early, but I know there's enough visibility here to lend credibility to this moment.
It's essential for her cover and we have to sell it.
Grooms are moving between stalls, trainers shouting orders, the usual chaos of a race day is beginning to build, and that's perfect.
I need witnesses.
I need this to be seen.
Katya walks three paces ahead of me, her shoulders tense.
She knows what's coming.
We rehearsed it last night in the apartment, ran through every word, every movement.
