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My gaze traveled up to the messy bun on her head, and I wanted to take off the band. Just to know what she looked like without it. To know if her hair felt as soft as it looked.
The room started getting a little hot, and knowing she was untouched made it even hotter.
Before I thought of being rational, I blurted, “Sit down.”
She huffed and started to walk back to the couch when I said, “On me.”
Her legs stopped moving, and her eyes dropped to my thighs. A weight of quietness hung above us till she gasped, “You can’t be serious.”
I gave her a look, a warning not to test me. “Sit.”
Hesitantly, she obliged—lowered her full weight on my legs and sat as stiffly as a stick.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her closer, close enough to perceive the heady mix of jasmine, rose petals, and powder on her skin.
My head bent forward, and my nose brushed her nape. I heard the sound of her breath hitching in her throat and almostlaughed at how awkwardly she sat, like she was ready to bolt the next second.
With a crook of my finger on her cheek, I tilted her face to meet mine and held her gaze.
The detective evaporated like steam into thin air, and the woman who stared back at me was just Freya. She was an angry and confused woman with many questions who wore a guarded mask, keeping me from truly seeing how much of an effect I had on her.
My fingers skimmed the inside of her thighs, and one of my hands cradled the small of her back. She was so small, so fragile.
And yet, I almost dared to call this feisty creature perfect.
She turned beet red and tried to pry my hands off. “Stop it….”
I raised a brow.
Gone was the strength in her tone and the fire in her eyes. Her voice sounded nothing like the woman who wanted to punch my smirking face.
My fingertips traced higher to the valley between her legs, but she swatted my hands away before I could get there and jumped to her feet as if she were sitting on hot coals.
“Don’t ever put your hands on me again, do you hear me?”
I rose to my feet and cupped her soft chin. The city lights hit her face from different angles through the glass windows, enhancing her allure. I looked past the glow and made sure she heard the warning in my tone.
Our lips were only inches apart when I leaned in. “Soon, Freya. Very soon, you’ll be begging me to touch you.”
I dropped her chin, grabbed the glass from the table, and walked away, leaving her alone in the silence to hear the echoes of my voice.
Chapter 10 – Freya
He’d called me by my name.
It had been three weeks and counting since the day I walked into that interrogation room and met the arrogant prick seated on that chair with hard eyes and a set jaw. Three weeks and counting, and not once had I heard him say my name.
Until one week ago.
Soon, Freya. Very soon, you’ll be begging me to touch you.
I sighed, stared at the scented candles and soap in the bathroom, and lowered myself into the tub. The water was warm against my skin, and I sunk deeper, struggling to relax despite the turbulent thoughts plaguing my mind. The pool of water almost toppled over the edge, but I didn’t care. I was stuck in the nightmare that there was a possibility ofneverleaving this glorified prison.
The idea was not impossible, but it wasn’t realistic either. He was right when he said the Bratva wasn’t dumb or ignorant. I’d read a lot about them, studied the extent of their powers and influence, and my research led me to unravel disturbing things about their modes of operation. These people were dangerous, and if they possessed so much control back in LA, I didn’t need to imagine how revered they were here in Moscow, their land.
It was no secret; they owned the people, ruled the society, and did so with iron fists. Nowhere was safe. I didn’t stand a chance, not with the Yezhovs or any of their allies on the loose.
Shutting my eyes, I inclined my head backward, resting my neck on the rim of the warm tub. My only option now was to pretend to adjust to this new arrangement—be a nice little captive and take orders from him. Just visualizing it made me sick to the stomach.
