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Nothing is as important as finding Kira, I remind myself. Nothing. Even Georgia.
“I’ll prepare Georgia to get into play over the next few days,” I assure them. My brother’s nod solemnly, as if they know what this is costing me—but they know shit, because giving up Georgia feels like fire burning under my skin.
Chapter29
ANDREI
I head back to the estate hours later. Just as the sun is rising.
My head throbs and my limbs ache from a restless night of sitting in the offices after my brothers left, drinking myself into a stupor. A few hours of sleep is all I could allow myself before it was time to come back here and face Georgia. Like me, she’s known this day was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier. We haven’t spoken about it for the last while, just enjoyed being wrapped in each other before the real world crashed down around us.
I track down Georgia in the painting studio. Her back is to me, sheets of dark hair pouring down her back. She tilts her head and focuses on the canvas in front of her, buttery sunlight pouring through the window in front of her.
Transfixed, I stand in the doorway watching Georgia dab and swirl a brush across the canvas, hypnotized by each elegant brushstroke and the way the colors on the canvas blend beautifully. She’s painting a swirling constellation of color; it’s the tattoo she offered to design for me. It represents Kira.
She doesn’t turn around to greet me, but she knows I’m here.
“What do you think?” Her voice is light and playful.
“It’s perfect.”I approach, running a finger down a silky lock of her hair.
She puts down her brush and turns to face me, vulnerability flashing in her eyes. If I let myself, I'll go places with her I've never gone with anybody before. I’ve lost my head, but I could easily lose my heart. And this is why I have to let her go now. In the only way I can.
I roughly grab her chin and angle her face up to mine. “You’re mine, Georgia. Always remember that. Promise me, baby. You won’t forget that you belong to me.”
Her face drops, and her eyes search my own. “What is this about?”
I nuzzle my face into her neck and breathe in her earthy scent before it’s ripped from me much too soon. “Oleg.” I don’t have to say anything more than that. She understands.
“I see.” The warm glow through the window highlights the steel gray of her eyes as she blinks. A tremor in the hand holding her paintbrush is the only indication that she is just as affected by this news. When she speaks again, her voice is flat, devoid of emotion. “We always knew this day was coming.”
I reach for her, but she recoils. Pain radiates through my chest, wrapping around my lungs and squeezing. The urge to close the distance between us, to feel her against me, is nearly overwhelming, but she's shutting me out.
She turns back to her painting, picking up where she left off, as if I didn’t just drop a nuclear bomb in her lap. “Don’t freeze me out.”
Her back stiffens at the bite in my tone, but I don’t care. I’m mad as hell. Not at Georgia, but at everything else, because right now, everything except this moment is out of my control. My hand finds its way to her pulse, my thumb pressing down gently on that delicate point. She holds her breath as I stand over her. My eyes must convey the carnal direction of my thoughts because a shiver runs through her.
“Do I need to teach you a lesson?” I stand over her, one rough fist tangling in her hair, angling her neck back so her throat is exposed to me. I breathe her in, repeating the word I may never get out of my head: “Mine.Moya dusha.”
My soul.
Her eyes fly open, locked on mine as if she understands what I just said. But she doesn’t—what she understands is the intensity behind the words. The feeling. What I need from her.
“Get up.” My tone leaves no room for compromise. When she does as I ask, I stand back. My eyes travel down her body, and her nipples bead under her flimsy top. Her pulse flutters at the base of her throat and the need to dominate her overwhelms me.
“Take off your clothes and go stand facing the wall.”
“Andr—” I stop her with a slap on her beautiful ass.
“Don’t fucking argue,” I growl, pointing towards an empty wall on the far side of the room. “Hands above you, and don’t move a muscle. I will not be gentle, krasotka.”
She strips bare for me, exposed to me, ripe for the taking. My leather clad foot pushes her legs apart, as I crowd her from behind. I’m close to her, but not touching her yet. Building anticipation in the most cruel way—a cat toying with a mouse.
Her limbs shake. An electric charge fills the air with the promise of all the delicious ways I’ll use her. Defile her in the best possible way.
“You’re so vulnerable.” My words are a whisper against her throat. “Look at you. Spread open for me, just begging for my touch.” I love her this way. Naked and shaking while I remain fully clothed. One of my fingers swipes over her slit, a gentle tease, while my other hand wraps around the front of her neck.
“So fucking wet,” I groan in her ear.
