Page 155 of Mile High Ruin

25

SLOANE

Vadim’s mouth closes around my breast just as I sink down over him again, and whatever thought I’d been trying to hold on to disappears beneath the pull of his lips and the deep, overwhelming stretch of his cock inside me.

I grip his shoulders and move slowly at first, my knees braced on either side of his hips while the early morning light filters through the curtains behind me and turns the room pale gold. He’s sitting against the headboard with one hand spread across my lower back and the other cupping my breast, thumb rubbing over my nipple whenever his mouth leaves it long enough to breathe.

There’s something almost obscene about how calm he looks while I’m losing every sensible thought I possess.

“You’re staring,” I whisper.

“I’m watching.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No.”

His mouth finds the other breast, and I inhale sharply. He sucks slowly, deliberately, taking his time as though we have nowhere to be and no questions waiting downstairs and no unresolved investigation sitting between us like a loaded weapon.

My fingers slide into his silver hair.

I roll my hips again.

His cock moves deeper.

Vadim’s hand tightens against my back.

“That,” he murmurs against my skin.

“What?”

“Do that again.”

I do. His head tips back for a second, and the sight of his control slipping gives me a ridiculous little rush of satisfaction.

I have learned things about him over the last few days that I’m not supposed to know.

The exact way his jaw tightens when he’s close. The sound he makes when I drag my nails down his shoulders. The fact that his hands get more possessive the quieter he becomes. The way he looks at my breasts as though he has never seen any before, which is absurd considering the kind of women I imagine he has spent his life with.

And, apparently, I have also learned how quickly I can forget that this man still does not trust me.

I rise and sink again.

Vadim curses under his breath. His hands move to my hips, guiding me faster. I brace one palm against his chest and keep riding him, my thighs already beginning to ache but not enough for me to stop, because every time I lower myself the pressure builds again, low and hot and impossible to ignore.

He reaches between us, his thumb finding my clit.

I gasp. “That’s cheating.”

“There are rules?”

“There should be.”

“There are not.”

He rubs slowly, matching the pressure to the rhythm of my hips until I have to stop teasing him because I can barely keep moving properly.

My breath breaks. “Vadim.”