He wasn't dying and she wasn't going anywhere. "My fiancee has no cash. She can't pay for anything." Forget the cash. Was she wearing panties? His gaze fixed on the apex of her legs.
"Not yet," she mumbled. "Hard or soft?" She held up the toothbrushes.
"Hard." Definitely hard. She tossed two toothbrushes into the cart. She wasn't wearing a bra, he knew that, her nipples dark through the shirt. Panties? He wasn't sure. "You don't need cash. Anything you want, I'll buy for you." There were advantages to being wealthy.
"I need a laptop."
"You'll have one tomorrow." Tonight, he wanted her full attention. "We're leaving, Brat.
Draw up your list of demands and give them to me later." He pushed the cart along. Him.
Nikolay Kaerta, a member of one of the wealthiest families in America, pushing a cart at Walmart.
"I wasn't done shopping." She clumped behind him, her flip-flops slapping against the linoleum.
"You are now." He spotted his men at the front, both of them smiling. Because he was pushing a cart. At Walmart. This rumor would make the rounds at the casino, for damn sure.
"Where are we going?" Another irritating question.
To the limo where he would find out the answer to the panty question. "You're being dropped off at a boutique. Buy something appropriate there because you'll be meeting my parents for lunch." That conversation hadn't gone well, his mother had been hurt over him springing a surprise future daughter-in-law on them. Damn Grandfather and his secretive plans.
"Oh."
"Pavel, drive the Bentley to the boutique." He had things to do and he couldn't wait all morning for her to figure out what to wear. "Boris, pay for this." He pushed the cart at the infatuated young man. "We'll be in the limo."
After the limo door closed behind him, Tatyana vented. "You're a very, very bossy man and I don't know why they put up with you. I'd never work for you. Not in a million years."
"I'd never hire you, Brat. Not in a million years." He sat down and pulled on her arm. She fell with a thump on his lap. "I require obedience from my employees."
"You won't get that from me." A hand on her stomach pressed her back against his arousal.
Her face flushed. "What the hell...let me go." She struggled.
"Not yet." His voice was sinfully deep.
If not now, when? "What do you think you're doing?" She stiffened as his hand moved up her bare legs. Surely, he didn't plan to... She looked around at the heavily tinted windows, the solid divider between them and the driver. Here?
"I need some answers." His palm on her thighs. "Ahhh...my boxers." He nodded in appreciation.
"My clothes were gone." Although she was fully covered, it felt decadent gallivanting around in his shirt. "I had nothing else to wear."
"What's mine is yours, Brat." A flick of the boxers' button fly and long fingers slid inside.
And what was hers was his. "It doesn't go both ways, ass." She clasped her legs together tightly, blocking his access.
"Language." He withdrew his hand. He was giving up so easily? She wiggled in disappointment, legs opening slightly. "And it does." He cupped her, lightning fast, and grinned. "Mine." His middle finger moved. She trembled. "You're wet for me, Brat." She was.
Embarrassingly so.
"You'll die." Multiple stab wounds to the stomach. It'd be painful. She tensed up, the memory harsh. That death had hurt. She suspected that if she let him go further, this one would also.
"I'll take that chance." He kissed her neck.
"We shouldn't," she warned, tilting her head so he could reach her ear.
"We have to." He obliged, nipping the sensitive skin. "I'm a physical man. You're a physical woman. People will expect us to be in a physical relationship." They would. No one would believe she could keep her hands off him, not with the way he smelled. And touched her. He mouthed over the top of the white shirt, leaving damp tracks, until he reached her breast, all the while stroking her.
"You're going to die." She reminded herself she couldn't care for him.
"All the more reason not to wait." As he sucked on her nipple through the thin cotton, he entered her with his finger. The dual impact made her buck. "Steady, Brat." He chuckled, his finger still inside her. "You are so tight, so hot."
"Nikky." All her thinking done, she twisted on his lap as he pulled his finger out.
He pushed into her once again. "I need more." He withdrew, pulling the boxer shorts off.
"Much more." She heard the sound of a zipper. There was jostling as he shed his jacket and yanked his pants and boxers down. "I can't wait. Next time, I'll take my time, I promise.
Now, I need." He lifted her so she straddled him high on his stomach. "I need you. Take me, Brat. Take me into you."
What? Did she hear that correctly? She was to do everything her own damn self?
"Brat?"
He was a lazy ass. She positioned him with shaking hands, and lowered herself. Too tight.
He was too big. It wasn't going to work. She paused.
He didn't give her time to figure it out. "Can't wait, Brat, can't." He placed a hand on her hip, pushing down as he thrust up.
Pain seared through her. She squeezed her eyes shut to capture the humiliating tears. She'd forgotten about the pain.
There was a long stretch of silence, her sitting completely impaled, him throbbing inside her. It was the strangest feeling. "Brat?"
"Give me a sec." Her voice sounded small to her own ears.
"You're not a virgin?"
"No." Oh, hell, he couldn't tell? Had she really done it that wrong?
"How many?" His hand rested on the curve of her back. "How many men?"
"One." She shifted her body, adjusting to accommodate him. It no longer felt like she was sitting on a red hot poker.
"Fuck." A curse from
