Chosen By A Sinner (Sinners 4)

When her eyes come to a stop on the bed, she says, “If you touch me without my permission, I’ll kill you.”

A spark of anger heats my blood. “I’m offended you felt the need to say that,” I mutter as I shrug out of my jacket.

Mariya lets out a tired sigh. “You’re the one who said this will be a real marriage.”

Remembering she has a hangover, I say, “We’ll both feel better after a nap.”

Her gaze follows me into the closet as I loosen my tie and unbutton my shirt. I don’t even look at her as I say, “I don’t expect you to spread your legs tonight, Mariya.” Grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, I turn to face her. “I’ll give you time to get used to us as a couple.”

Her eyes sweep over my chest, a flash of desire darkening her eyes. Then she mutters, “Don’t hold your breath while you wait.”

Chapter 11

Mariya

It’s exhausting. I’m doing everything possible to hide my true feelings, and at this rate, it might be the thing that kills me.

Being in Luca’s home is unnerving, and it downright rattled me when he came out of the closet with his shirt unbuttoned. The strip of golden skin and hard muscle I saw… Jesus, no man should be allowed to look that hot.

He keeps saying there will be no annulment, and this will be a real marriage.

Seriously?

Why?

The only plausible reason I can come up with is that he only wants me because it will make us the new power couple to fear. We’ll be the Alexei and Isabella of our generation.

None of it sits well with me.

I love my parents more than anything, and I have great respect for everything they’ve accomplished, but I don’t want to be them.

Luca goes into the bathroom, leaving me standing like an idiot in his bedroom. I glance back to the bed when I hear the shower turn on.

Am I really going to do this?

Will I be able to keep the attraction I feel for him a secret?

I sit down on the bed and stare at the shut bathroom door.

What are you doing, Mariya? Luca sees this as the perfect business deal. Even if he sleeps with you or shows you any kind of affection, it won’t be because he suddenly fell in love with you.

I’ve always wanted the kind of love my parents have. Dad loved Mom so much, he did everything in his power to get her.

I want a man who melts at the sight of me, who sees no other woman but me, who will burn down this planet for me.

I want a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love.

I’ll never be happy knowing Luca only treats me as his wife because it’s a good business decision.

Dammit! I want romance and seduction.

Screw this. The hangover is still kicking my ass. I need sleep.

Getting up, I grab my bag and stalk out of Luca’s bedroom. I check the guestrooms and pick the one furthest from Luca’s.

The whole place is decorated in blacks and grays, not a stitch of color to be seen. It’s stunning but cold, just like the owner.

I set my bag down on the bed, and opening it, I remove a pair of shorts and a form-fitting sleeveless tank top. Once I’m dressed in the casual clothes, I chuck my bag on the floor and go to the bathroom to wash my face.

When I’m done, I close the curtains and crawl into the foreign bed. I try to snuggle into the pillow, upset that I forgot to bring mine from home.

Home. That’s one thing this apartment will never feel like.

God, how am I going to get through the next six months? And what if Luca really refuses to give me an annulment?

Suddenly the door opens, and as I glance over my shoulder, it’s to see Luca stalking toward the bed. He grabs the covers and tosses them back.

“Hey!”

With an angry glare that sends chills down my spine, he swoops me into his arms, bridal style, and stalks out of the room.

For a moment, I’m too stunned because having Luca carry me does weird things to my heart and ovaries.

Being so close to him feels amazing.

I shake my head hard to snap out of it.

Giving Luca a glare of my own, I demand, “Put me down.”

I’m dropped on his bed, then he plants a hand on either side of my shoulders, his face inches from mine. The desire to kiss him comes out of left field, knocking the breath from my lungs.

Dear God. Fighting with this man is better than any foreplay I’ve ever experienced.

“You will sleep in my bed.” His tone is deadly as if he’s barely hanging on to his self-control, and it has my core flushing with heat.

His features are so tense that he looks deadly. “I fucking hate repeating myself.”