Sinful Addiction

XXXVIII

RUSLAN VETROV

        Jesus. I wasn't expecting that.

        She shifted below me, already having one knee on the other side and ready to get off me. Ready to throw in the towel and run to the other side.

That was the thing with Elena. She was a runner, at every little inconvenience or challenge, she ran to protect her heart. Before it was even broken. Maybe it was the effect of the household she grew up in or response to me but I hated it.

        With a deep groan, I grabbed her hips, gathering her back to the straddling position but she dropped her gaze to the floor, avoiding me. Ah shit.

        "Let's compromise."

        "No."

        "Elena," I said firmly. Only this fucking woman got on my damn nerves, only her.

        Irritation flared at my chest as I gazed at her. I didn't bother with more conversation or trying to convince her otherwise because I knew it would only result in an argument. "You want to see me?"

        "Yes. You've seen me naked, and I haven't seen anything. Not exactly fair."

        I don't play fair, I opened my mouth to say just that, looking at her under furrowed brows, my jaw tight and mouth drawn into a thin line.

        Her soft green eyes were wide, earnest, sparkling with a look I had never seen before. Hope.

        The retort died on my tongue just as fast as a warm feeling washed over me. "Okay." I heard myself say out of nowhere.

        Christ, this was ridiculous.

        What the actual fuck?

       A smile exploded in her cheek, and it made me want to give her every fucking thing she wanted. Right then and there. "Good. You were just inside me so I think I've earned the right to see you naked as well, Mr. Vetrov."

        My lips curved at her remark. With a faint sense of surprise, I realized I was smiling. I seemed to do that a lot around her. My spitfire and her smart little mouth.

        Loosening my tie, I gazed down at her hoping to goddamn hell she wouldn't run way once she saw me. I pulled my tie over my head, dropping it on the floor.

        Kicking off my shoe beneath her, unbuttoning my shirt under the perfect unwavering eyes of Elena Cassano.

        Watching with excitement in those eyes as I pulled off my shirt and watched it fall from my fingertips to lie on top of the shirt she had been wearing. Or the scraps of it.

        She bit down on her bottom lip, hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. Gazing at my bare chest and taking everything in. The tattoos, the muscle, the jagged marks of healed scars scattered. Never a gasp, and not a single ounce of disgust in those soft eyes.

        Her hips shifted slightly against my body, her breasts bouncing with the movement but she didn't notice. The woman was too busy staring at my goddamn chest.

        "Koshechka." My voice was thick, filled with emotions. I swallowed. "You're staring."

        She was quiet for a moment before I watched her fingers reach out, gliding through my skin. With her fingertips, she lightly traced the scars on my shoulder, following down to the shape of my ribcage. The woman glanced up at me for a moment, and she whispered, "You're beautiful."