The Darkest Temptation (Made 3)

“I’m sorry!” The words escaped on an uneven breath.

“No, you’re not, malen’kaya lgunishka.”

Legs carrying me backward, he followed my retreat. The coolness of the stone shower floor met my feet. I was trapped, and he was closing in on me with that lax belt in his grip. I should accept the pain to bring me back to reality; to remember his company was nothing but a herald of death. It sounded good in theory, but in reality? It sounded like it would freaking hurt.

Grabbing a bottle of shampoo, I chucked it at him. “You deserved it!”

He evaded it and all of the other objects I hurled his way. Catching me by the waist, his dark voice pressed against my ear.

“Just as you deserve to have your ass whipped.”

I pushed against him, trying to knee him where it hurt, but he grabbed my thigh with a punishing grip before it could make contact.

“Knee me in the nuts again,” he growled, “and you’ll be soothing the ache.”

“Let me go!” I continued to struggle, but he had my wrists in an unyielding grip while he wrapped his belt around them and tied a knot.

When he stepped away, I tried to escape, but he yanked on the other end of the belt, and I collided with his chest. He secured the other end to the modern shower head on the ceiling, raising my arms above my head.

Panting, I looked up warily. “What are you—?” The rest of the words escaped as a yelp when icy water rained down on me.

I was tall enough that both feet rested flat on the floor, but there wasn’t enough slack in the belt to escape the spray. I sputtered and choked on the unexpected downpour that was so cold pins and needles pricked my skin.

“What did I tell you about fighting me?” He gripped my face, lifting it so I would meet his eyes.

A violent shiver racked me as a torrent straight from the Antarctic soaked my hair and matted my dress to my body. I blinked the water from my eyes. I didn’t know if it was the freezing water or the relief he wasn’t going to whip me, but the fight within vanished, leaving me trembling and alone.

“It’s cold,” I complained through chattering teeth.

“Good.” He was half-soaked as well, but he didn’t even flinch, fingers tightening on my cheeks. “You have a temper, kotyonok.” His grip alleviated a touch, dark eyes on mine. “Don’t make me put a leash on you.”

After his threat, I should apologize. I should beg for his forgiveness and a collarless neck, but, instead, the emotionless words that slipped out were, “I hope the tea was still hot.”

The smallest hint of amusement on his lips clashed with the annoyance in his eyes, and his response was thoughtful, maybe even rhetorical. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Let me go.”

Something subtle and conflicted passed through his eyes, and I wondered if he’d already made plans to release me soon; if he would exchange me for my papa’s life in days or even hours. The idea tightened the walls of my chest, making me feel lost and alone, but despair wasn’t the only feeling that bubbled to life.

“Mmm.” The soft noise vibrated against my lips. “Not yet.”

I knew even if I escaped having entertained the devil, his demons would follow me for life. As I imagined him walking away without a backward glance like I was a wad of gum on the bottom of his boot, unwanted and shortly forgotten, something fierce surfaced. It wanted to haunt D’yavol like he would me. Or maybe that was just an excuse for losing my grasp on hatred and letting it go up in smoke and flame.

I expelled a shaky breath at the glide of his thumb across my cheekbone. The contrast between his anger and caress threw me off my axis, lit a lightning bolt of heat in my belly, and arose the mindless desire to invoke his sof

tness and approval.

His thumb ran across my lips like he was testing if I would bite him. I didn’t. I even let him push it slightly into my mouth. The low sound in his throat invaded the chill in the air, warming the water a few degrees, and at that moment, all I wanted was heat.

Even if it came in the form of hellfire.

I closed my mouth around his thumb, so he had to pull it free against the hot glide of my tongue and lips. Flames were started by less than the look in his eyes, and the full weight of his approval settled an ache between my legs.

The warmth inside conflicted the cold torture on my skin in such a way I felt dizzy. High. Drunk on a tumbler of ten-thousand-dollar vodka twenty stories in the air, and I could do nothing but yield to the touch when his thumb pulled my bottom lip down as it left me.

Wrists wrapped in leather, trickles of icy water pouring over my skin and down parted lips, time slowed beneath the thick pull between us that felt like half-lidded eyes and moonless nights. Ivory skin and goose bumps. Soaked Brioni and tattoos. Selflessness and greed.

The visceral need to close the distance stole the air from me, and I couldn’t find enough oxygen that wasn’t tainted by his heat and the intoxicating smell of the forest. My head was above water, but I was drowning; panting for the breath I knew this sin wouldn’t satiate.