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“You stay with me.”
She groans and falls back against the mattress, her blonde hair sprawling around her head like her own personal halo. “Rafe, you don’t have to do this.”
I grab her chin and shove her face to the side, brushing my lips over her neck. “Do what?”
“No one is going to take me. My nightmares are manageable…”
Another kiss—the taste of her skin so intoxicating. “I know. And good.”
“So you don’t need to make yourself uncomfortable.”
I pull back and smirk. “Uncomfortable?” Her cheeks turn pink, and she looks anywhere but at me.
Eventually, she rolls her eyes and points down between us. “Uncomfortable.”
Wrapping my fingers around her wrists, I pin them above her head against the mattress. “I’m very comfortable.” I smirk.
Her breaths quicken, her breasts rising to greet me before falling again. Damn, she really does test every inch of my restraint. I’m not sure that she’s even aware of her legs parting, or the subtle invitations she throws my way with every breath. Her mind may not be ready, but her body is waking up from her abuse. My lips brush over hers, and she shoves up from the mattress, slamming her mouth over mine. Her tongue brushes my bottom lip, and I groan into her mouth. She squeezes those creamy thighs around my hips, causing my shirt to pull free. The bare skin of her thigh meets the exposed skin at my waist, and I glance down. The material of her dress is now rucked up around her hips, and I slam my eyes shut before I catch sight of her underwear. Too late though, I’m already picturing white lace, and my dick is painfully hard at the thought.
Small fingers cling to my jaw, pulling my face back to hers before she kisses me again. Harder, bolder, more demanding. Her fingers rake into my hair, pulling and tugging. Her body bucks away from the bed, rising against mine as though it were possessed. Red-hot blood courses through my veins. My vision spots and blurs and my fists tighten around the cotton sheets beneath her. Shit. And then, she bites me, hard enough to send the copper tang of blood skating over my tongue. I snap. With a growl, I muster every bit of willpower I have and force myself away from her until I’m standing a few feet from the bed. And fuck me—she is wearing white lace. I turn my back on her and take several deep breaths.
The most primitive of instincts will often override the rational. I don’t want her blind desire. I want her: mind, body, and soul. But she tests me with every breath because Anna Vasiliev is a lesson in restraint unlike any other.
“Rafael.” Her hand lands on my back, and I slowly turn to face her. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck, Anna. Don’t apologize.”
“This is what I mean though. I’m not sure you should put yourself through this.”
I smirk. “Why? Because you can’t control yourself?” She dips her chin, blushing furiously. “I’m joking, avecita. It’s fine.”
“I really am sorry.” She looks up at me with sad eyes. “I wish I could be…more.” I don’t even know what to say to her—because she will be—in time. I see her, day by day, week by week. She’s like a budding flower desperately in need of the sun but unwilling to bloom and soak it up. One day she will though. One day she will wake up and won’t be able to remember the scared girl she once was. She’ll take everything she wants in this life because she can—because I will give it to her. One day, Anna will see herself as I do: strong, resilient, beautiful, and empowered. But that day is not today.
“Go to bed, little warrior.” I kiss her forehead and back towards the door. “I will sleep in this bed with you, but I just remembered I have some emails to send.” I don’t, but she needs a minute. And I refuse to sleep in another room.
She is mine. End of story.
