Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Me.
Liliana Baranova.
It stuns me all over again that I could be so reckless, so daring, that I’d jump at the chance to, well, jump into his arms. It started simple enough. I tripped when the power went out, and he caught me. But in that instant, from one beat to the next, something shifted in the air, and craving his touch became impossible to resist. Then his kisses. And then—
Oh, God…
I bite my lip to hide a grin as I slowly peel my eyelids open to the dim room. A faint glow seeps from behind the curtains, but it’s not so garishly bright that it could hurt my eyes or annoy me. Hell, nothing can bother me or bring me down now. Anton well and truly fucked my brains out, leaving me spent and lax, so deliciously relaxed after so many orgasms.
On the bed.
In the shower.
On the bed again.
On the floor? Yes, on the plush carpet, too, when he caught me getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and thought I was sneaking out and away from him.
My cheeks heat as I look at him now. He did all of that to me. This older, distinguished, and very masterfully seductive man. Anton took me over and over again, thoroughly convincing me that I’ve been so stupid to ever think I could be broken like Roman declared. All this time, I’ve been letting that idiot’s words get to me and trick me into believing I’m frigid and unable to please a man in bed.
All night long, Anton pleasured me, and it seemed like he’d hold off until I came and soared in the bliss of yet another climax, only then letting himself follow me down.
I’m not frigid after all.
I’m not incapable of losing myself in sex and getting a guy off.
I stare at him sleeping, all those rugged, lean features so peaceful. Some of his hardness has eased now that he’s resting. And yet he still radiates power and authority. It’s unmissable, even when he’s vulnerable and not awake.
Just who are you?
Fully awake and still reeling that I slept with a strange man I hadn’t known more than a couple of hours, I study him some more. I trace all the lines on his face. The darkness of his stubble. Those few hints of silver and gray at his temples. He’s so gruff, and underneath it lives that unmistakable confidence and control he showed me last night. It’s not just dominance, the thing I always wished Roman could give me in bed, but something more.
Power.
Authority.
Like he’s in charge not only in bed with me but in life.
It’s something that he seems born to be, and as I look him over and notice a tattoo on his chest, one among many, I swear my heart skips a beat then stalls.
Hold on…
I furrow my brow and squint to make out the black ink I didn’t notice last night. Oh, I saw how covered in tattoos he is. All those scars and tattoos suit his personality, the little I know of it. Anton is not an angel or a good man. But last night I was far too busy with his mouth on me and his dick inside me to get a full look at the artwork on his tan skin.
Leaning closer to make out the finer details and lines, I hold my breath and know my eyes aren’t deceiving me. That is the Sokolov emblem. The shield of arms is an old design, but I’ve spotted it plenty of times while I dated Roman. It’s his family’s symbol, and the extra lines Anton has added, inked right over his heart, mean something more.
Oh. My. God.
This can’t be real.
Reading the mark inked into his skin, the very words that name him as the boss, I scramble for any excuse that would let me deny the connection.
Oh, fuck.
That means he’s Roman’s father.
Oh, my God!
Cringing at the realization, I hold as still as I can and run through every theory in my head. I’m grasping for anything to make sense of it, anything that means this can’t be happening.
But nothing works in my favor.
It all adds up.
His ink marks him as the boss of the Sokolovs.
He’s Roman’s father.
He’s here and familiar with the mansion because he has every right to be. As the owner of so many properties, including this one, not because he’s an employee expected to clean the place or winterize it.
He’s so commanding and oozing with authority because he is the boss. He is in charge.
Oh, fuck.
I catch my lower lip in my teeth and ride out another wave of emotion. The high of being so thoroughly fucked last night still lingers, but worry creeps in. The shock won’t fade, and as I watch him sleep and question what I did in the heat of the moment, I can’t stand the flush of shame rising in me.