I frown, confused. “What?”
That grin. It’s so quick and devastating in its prowess. A flash of white teeth paired with a hint of mischief in those dark eyes. I’m dumbstruck.
“Come.” He stands, pulling me along with him even though we’re both naked. My involuntary shiver must be what makes him take a detour to the closet where he snatches one of his shirts from its hanger and dresses me in it. “I think I prefer this to…”
He breaks off, his throat clenching, and I beam in triumph and finger the tip of his starched collar. On me, the shirt strains over my breasts, and I have a feeling he can see my nipples protruding against the material.
New sexy outfit idea? Check, check, check.
“Oh, Mr. Vadim. Are you saying that you like to see me in your clothing?” I twirl for his benefit and relish in his savoring moan.
“Witch!” He grabs my wrist and spins me around to face him. Ravenous, his eyes rake over me, settling on my chest. He can definitely see my nipples judging from his appreciative swallow. “I think I love you in my clothing,” he confesses, his voice rasping.
And I’m more aware of my piercing than ever, hovering dangerously close to my clit. So on fire, it’s nearly unbearable.
“But, you may be too distracting.” He slides his fingers beneath my collar in search of the topmost button and swiftly undoes it. Then another. Another. Soon, the garment is hanging open, exposing my torso, and some of the heat in his gaze simmers to a liquid lust that makes me sway. “Much better,” he declares before finding a shirt of his own.
I follow him from the room and into that infamous space the next door down. My breath catches as I spot the pillory, and my brain loses track of everything but the prospect of doing it again. For longer. With more spanking. More intensity. More.
“Finish your homework admirably, and I will reward you,” Vadim says thickly as if reading my mind.
“Homework?”
“Furniture,” he declares. “For her room…” Without explaining further, he crosses over to that corner of stacked boxes and easily lifts a massive one from the nearest row. He brings it to the center of the room and places it down. Wiping his hands, he nods to a section of the room I hadn’t noticed until now.
“My laptop is there,” he says, indicating a small, neatly arranged collection of items. A pillow. A folded blanket. A laptop. A stack of clothing. My throat constricts as I pad closer and recognize the small corner as where he must have stayed during his exile from the master bed—in addition to his study—though I suspect his laptop and briefcase saw much more use than the pillow and blanket did.
“You can use it to do your research,” he adds.
Nodding, I grab the laptop and obediently bring it toward him as he opens a box with a silver knife. He logs me in and opens up a browser before returning back to his main task. I peek over his shoulder and watch on excitedly while he rummages through a carefully packed arrangement of black wood.
“Another toy?” I wonder, a thrill in my voice.
“Attend to your assignment, Ms. Connors,” he scolds, eyeing me from over his shoulder. “And, I will attend to mine.”
Challenge accepted. I hunker down with his laptop and try to decide where to begin. I don’t feel the need to ask him for direction, at least. He wants me to help him prepare the house for Magda. Predictably, I do a cursory search for girl’s bedroom ideas only to find myself distracted as Vadim rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and casually lifts massive piece of wood, after massive piece from the box and begins to assemble them using the white instruction manual as a guide.
The man has skill. He works methodically, utilizing his hands in a graceful display to manipulate the various pieces and screw or hammer them together. My cheeks flame as he looks up and catches me spying.
“Ten minutes in and you haven’t spent millions? I’m disappointed, Ms. Connors,” he chides playfully.
I scoff. “Watch me.”
I return to the screen, peering through an endless array of furniture listings and design styles. I’m observing a promising pastel color scheme when something flashes across the screen. An email alert? I frown as I scan the subject heading.
“You speak Russian?” I ask, vaguely recognizing the unfamiliar shapes of the Cyrillic alphabet from a brief lesson on the Bolshevik revolution in high school.
“What?” Vadim looks up sharply, setting his tools aside. He grabs the laptop from me and quickly scans the contents of the email. Whatever he reads makes him curse, and he slams the computer shut, turning on his heel. “I’ll be back,” he says in a tone that warns me not to follow.
Seconds later, I hear his voice drift from the bedroom. He must be on a phone call. “You want to play peacemaker?” he demands in a scathing tone. “Keep your dog on his leash. I’ve restrained myself where he is concerned because you asked. I’ve gone to your dinners, and played your game, but if he dares to play his games with me, I’ll end this war for good. I’m warning you both, Milton—” he pauses as if allowing the person on the other end to reply. Whatever they say makes him laugh. “It seems that someone’s been digging around my holdings in Moscow,” he adds. “Who else but Maxim? Unlike him, I’ve kept my enemies in check. How much more am I supposed to sacrifice to keep little Maxi sated? Rest assured, I’ll give him a friendly warning to keep his distance. Adieu.”
He must hang up, because he’s entering the room a heartbeat later, his expression haggard. Spotting me, he clenches his jaw and returns to his scattered tools.
“Change your mind?” he asks
