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I almost believe her.
Then I remember that I’m Kolya Uvarov and I have faced much worse than a spitfire dancer with more spirit than strength.
“We’ll see about that.”
“If those maids come in here, I will fight them both,” she warns.
I can’t help it: I laugh. She flinches again as though my laugh has the power to hurt her. Instead of cowing, though, she seems to get taller. She pushes herself off the couch and gets to her feet. Wobbly, but ferocious.
“You think I’m joking?” she demands.
“I know you’re not. That’s why it’s funny.”
Her forehead wrinkles. Before she can dream up another line of argument, I do what I suspected I’d have to do from the beginning.
She’s light as a feather as I hoist her over my shoulder. I expected her to scream, but she doesn’t even have the presence of mind to do that quite yet. Her slip flutters over my nose, perfumed with her scent.
We step into the bathroom, but instead of putting her back on her feet, I seat her on the marble countertop, then reach around her to turn the shower on hot. She sucks in a deep breath, her eyes wide with disbelief. I’m sure the fury will follow, but for now, I take advantage of her silence.
“There’s no sense troubling the maids for something I can see to myself.”
“Y-you… wouldn’t.”
“Watch me.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t do this. I’m a grown woman. You can’t do this.”
“Repeating a thing won’t make it true,” I tell her harshly as steam starts to fill the bathroom and fog up the mirror. “I gave you several options and several chances to compromise. You’ve officially used up every single opportunity you’ve received. I’m done talking. I’m done negotiating. You don’t get a say anymore. Now, do you want to take the slip off? Or should I?”
She opens and closes her mouth a few times as the anger builds and builds inside of her. A bead of sweat forms at her temple. I dream of kissing it away.
Instead, I shrug. “So be it.”
Done playing nice, I grab her waist with both hands and carry her into the shower.
That’s when she finds her voice. “No!” she screams, beating her little fists against my back. “Kolya! Let me go! Stop! Stop!!”
Her yells devolve into unintelligible sounds as the water hits her. You’d think it was ice-cold, the way she’s carrying on. But it’s searingly hot.
As the water drenches us both, I can feel the slip disintegrating under my hands. At least, that’s how it feels. It clings to her body like a second skin, revealing every curve it’s been hiding. Every secret dip and bend that I’ve spent the last several days trying not to notice.
Her nipples are pressed up my shoulder. I set her down and twist her away from me before I do something stupid, but all that does is grind her ass against the hardness behind my zipper.
I falter for a moment. My hands fall off her as I grimace, and when I stumble backwards, the water hits my face, blinding me.
June takes that as an opportunity to attack. Ripping the secondary shower head out of its holster, she spins around and swings it at me.
I consider letting it hit me. Letting her crack my skull open and leave me here to bleed, gibbering and drowning to death on my own blood and water hot enough to surge through hell. I can’t say I wouldn’t deserve it. From the moment I found her, I’ve tried to hurt her, if only to keep her at bay. Because letting her too close would be a catastrophe.
At the last second, though, decades of training take over. My body moves without my mind’s permission. I pluck her wrist out of the air mid-swing and twist it until she cries out and drops the shower head. It clatters to the floor, then I shove her back up against the tile wall as it cries tears of condensation. The thunder of falling water washes out our mingled, panting breaths.
“Will you fucking stop?” I growl. “I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your damn help!” Her cheeks are flushed bright pink and the slip is plastered tight to her body.
She shoves at my chest, but I can barely feel it. All I can sense is her minty fresh breath, and her rock-hard nipples, and the pulsing heartbeat filling the space between us.
“I’m not my fucking brother,” I hear myself say. “When I tell you I’m going to help you, I will. When I tell you I’m going to protect you, I fucking will.”
