Page 35 of Paved in Venom

He hooks a finger under my chin, tilting my face back up to his. “You need to get comfortable with stuff like that if we’re going to make this believable.”

To my absolute horror, he steps back and grabs the leather office chair, rolling it over so it’s in the middle of the room. He sits down, his long legs bent at the knees as his thighs naturally spread, filling the chair with his powerful body. He pats his thigh and gives me a smile.

“Come on. We’re going to practice.”

“What?”

He curls his finger at me in the universal get your ass over here motion. “Would you rather have your first time be in front of everyone?”

“I’d rather not have to do it in front of anyone at all,” I counter.

“I know, but it might be something you need to do to fit in, and if that happens, you’ll feel better if you’ve done it before.”

He’s not wrong, but I still feel like a giant idiot walking over to him. I remember the gorgeous women at the club, and it makes me freeze in place.

“I’m not going to be like them,” I warn him. “There’s no way in hell I can compete with the other women who’ve been in your lap.”

“I don’t want you to be like them, and there is no comparison. You’ve already won, sladkaya.”

I shake my head. “I have no idea what to say when you say things like that.”

He gives a soft laugh. “You don’t need to say anything. Stop stalling and get in my lap, Simona.”

The longer I wait, the more awkward it’s going to be, so with a sigh, I climb onto his lap in what must be the most unsexy maneuvering he’s ever seen until I’m finally straddling him. I feel his body shaking with the laughter he’s trying to hide.

“Is now really the best time to laugh at me?”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes are lit up with amusement, and I can’t help but give a soft laugh, because sometimes you just have to. There’s no point in sitting here crying about my lack of innate sexiness. It’s just not one of the skills the universe saw fit to bless me with. I’ve got to work with what I’ve got, so I grip his shoulders for balance and meet his eyes.

“Okay, tell me what to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Get up and run out the door.”

He laughs again. “Because you don’t like being in my lap or because you’re embarrassed?”

“Mortified,” I correct. “Absolutely fucking mortified.”

“Okay, that I can work with.”

Using his feet, he wheels us back to his desk, and after a few clicks on his keyboard, music starts playing. A sultry beat fills his room, and the sound of it makes all this seem so much more real. Before, it almost felt like we were just joking around, but now, now it feels like I’m actually about to give this sexy man a lap dance. The man who I just learned is in a fucking Bratva and doesn’t mind killing people.

I should be appalled. I should be disgusted, and instead of talking about running out the door, I should actually be trying to escape. What the fuck is wrong with me that the very idea of leaving Danil bothers me? I don’t want to run from him. I want to harness my inner sex goddess and ride him to O-town. I want to erase every damn memory he has of another woman in his lap. It’s a dangerous thought, especially since I have no idea what he really thinks of me. He’s flirty, yes, but he probably is with everyone.

I don’t realize I’m playing a melody on his shoulders until he grips my hips and I return to the present moment to see my fingers rapidly tapping away against the hard muscle that’s seared into my memory.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, gripping my hips tighter, moving me just enough to encourage me to take over.

And I do.

I slowly rock my hips, and when he lets out a soft groan, it fills me with an unexpected sense of pride. Here is this insanely beautiful man, a man who could literally have anyone he wanted, and right now he’s beneath me, letting out masculine groans because of me. Fuck if that doesn’t make me feel like a damn goddess.

His jaw is tense when I lean closer and roll my hips again, allowing the music to guide my movements. I let out a soft gasp when I feel him grow hard beneath me. I’d seen him this morning, and it had taken all my willpower to not reach out and touch him, and then I’d heard him jerking off in the shower. I’d wanted so badly to open the door and join him, but my nerves got the better of me. I wasn’t even sure it was me he was thinking about, but I know it’s me he’s thinking about now.

His long fingers slide under my shirt, grazing the bare skin as he keeps a tight grip on my hips. I slide one hand to the back of his head, running my fingers through his thick hair as I grind even harder against him.

Our faces are almost touching when I ask, “Am I doing it right?”

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