Page 24 of Marrying the Silver Fox

“Like what?”

She cocks her head to the side. “Nikolai, come on,” she insists. “I know something’s bothering you. I’m not going to be able to do any better next time if you don’t tell me what’s getting to you, alright?”

I cock an eyebrow, eyeing her there in the door. Saying it out loud seems…dangerous, that much is for sure. Because if I tell her what’s really going through my head, the way it made me feel to see her charm those men with such ease, absorb their compliments as though they were made for her, I might come across as more invested in this than I intend to be.

She reaches out to touch my hand, and I swear, as soon as she touches me, it’s like something comes apart at the seams. The same way it did this morning when she asked me what was going on with my father’s business. She has this way about her, this manner of holding herself, that unfurls something in me whether I want to admit it or not.

“The way they looked at you,” I murmur, and I lift a hand to her face. Maybe I’m a little drunk too, because I feel that swell of intoxication course through me the moment I touch her. “Like they didn’t know you were mine.”

Her lips part slightly. I reach my thumb across, brushing it against her mouth, just for a moment.

She smiles, almost teasingly. “Don’t tell me that you were jealous…”

“I don’t like people thinking they have a right to what belongs to me.”

“Oh, and I belong to you now, do I?” she retorts playfully. She’s trying to get a rise out of me—not something I’m used to, since most of the people I encounter in my line of work are doing everything in their power to keep from pissing me off.

I can’t help but grin. “Of course you do,” I reply, moving closer to her, pinning her between me and the door. “You don’t remember? That’s my ring on your finger.”

“And you think that means I should just lock myself away where nobody else can see me, is that it?” she continues. She parts her lips slightly, dragging them against my thumb, as though tempting me to make a move.

I know she is my wife, that it would not be out of the ordinary for me to claim her all over again, but our situation is so much more nuanced than that. I don’t know if what we have will last beyond the time we spend in Russia, if I even want it to—if I can make something work with her long-term, given the speed at which it all kicked off in the first place.

But right now, I’m not thinking long-term. I’m thinking about the way she felt when she was on top of me. The way it felt when I was inside of her.

And I can’t think of anything I crave more than to pick up right where we left off.

I grab her arms and pin them above her head, moving in close enough that I can whisper the words right into her ear. “Let me remind you,” I growl. “Exactly who you belong to.”

And with that, I push her over the threshold, hitching her into my arms and carrying her toward the bed before she can say another word. She clasps my face in her hands, her eyes half-lidded as she looks down at me. I slide my hands along her thighs, greedy for the feel of her, the soft feminine curve of her body beneath the dress. There’s something about her defiance, that smart mouth, that makes me want to put her in her place once and for all, and I intend to show her exactly where that is.

I toss her down on the bed and slide my hand beneath her dress, the skirt hiking up toward her panties. I let out a low groan when I see her underwear, black cotton clinging to her slick folds so I can make out every detail of her pussy.

“See how fucking wet you are for me already?” I murmur, as I run a thumb over her clit through the fabric of her panties.

She moans, her hips rising from the bed, and I eye her for a moment, deciding exactly what I want to do with her. I know that I want to put the thought of every other man she has spoken to tonight out of her head, once and for all. And as I push her dress up to pool around her waist, I have just the way to do it.

I grab her ankles, pulling her toward me roughly, and drape them both over my shoulders, her heels leaning against my back. She’s staring down at me, her lips slightly parted, and there’s that flicker of defiance still left in her eyes. I’m going to make sure she thinks twice before she speaks to me like that again.

I brush my lips along the inside of her thigh, and she squirms before me, her hands balling the covers into fists on either side of her. I chuckle. “You want me to make you come?” I ask her, and she nods.

She must be thinking about our encounter in the plane, the same way I have been since the second we set foot on solid ground. It seems like the champagne gets her feeling some type of way, though—and in a dress like that, it’s hard not to end up right there with her.

I press a kiss against her thigh, just below the line of her panties, and she reaches down, trying to pull me where she needs me to go. But I draw my head away, cocking it at her as I look up.

“If we’re going to do this,” I murmur, close enough to her that I’m sure she can feel the warmth of my breath against her pussy. “Then I’m the one in control. You hear me?”

She squirms again, her hand still in my hair. She isn’t getting it. I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.

Stripping her of her panties, I toss them aside before I grasp her hands, pinning them beside her on the bed, interlinking our fingers so she can’t move. She wriggles in front of me, and I pause for a moment to admire the glistening wetness of her pussy, her folds just begging to be parted by my tongue.

“Look at how pretty your pussy is,” I murmur, dragging my lips against the crease of her thigh. “Makes me want to taste you, baby.”

She squirms once again, clearly trying to tell me in any way she can that she wants more. I grin, working my way across her mound, brushing my lips against her without ever giving her what she truly needs.

“You want me to eat your pussy?”

She nods. Words seem to have escaped her now.