Perfect Monster (The Oligarchs) - Page 32

I tried to push him off. “Let go of me.”

“No.” He held me tighter. His hard cock pressed against my core, between my legs. “You’re breathing hard. Are you going to have another panic attack?”

“No, I’m not, asshole.”

“Then that’s arousal.” His head tilted. “I’d reach between your legs and confirm, but we’re already in a pool and you’re wet by definition.”

“Let me go.”

“I don’t think I will.” He leaned closer, lips so close to mine.

We were alone, so very alone, and he was wrapped around me like an anchor. He could drag me under and drown me if he wanted, and there was nobody in this world that could touch him for it.

Real fear set in then.

I was deep underground with this man I barely knew—

A man that freely admitted he was more dangerous than mobsters.

And here I was wearing one of his bathing suits and all alone with him in a pool.

I could die here, and who would mourn me?

Winter would. Maybe my dad.

Nobody else. I’d be a footnote at beast. The world would move on.

His lips brushed mine.

“Tell me a secret,” he whispered.

“I don’t have any.”

“I’ll give you one if you promise me one in return.”

“I don’t want to play, Roman.”

“I think you do.” He kissed my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath. God, I hated him and wanted him in equal measure. “I can feel your heart racing. Your nipples are so hard they might rip through that top. Don’t pretend like you aren’t as aroused as I am.”

“Let me go.”

“Promise me a secret and I will.”

I chewed on my lip. His mouth moved up my cheek.

“Fine. One secret. But only if yours is worth it.”

“Oh, Cassie, my life is built of secrets, but I promise, they’re all worth it.”

And he kissed me then. His lips pressed to mine and his tongue slid between my teeth and I let him in, let his taste flood my mouth, the spicy delight of him warring with the chlorine of the pool water, and I moaned into that kiss as he tread water for the both of us, barely keeping us afloat. He turned and moved me back toward the wall but I wasn’t aware of anything but those lips, moving against mine, his tongue and teeth, the way he bit me, the way his hands moved on my ass, up my chest, cupped my breast—

Then I was lifting up.

I gasped as he put me onto the edge. I longed for those lips again as I stared down at him. He raised up onto his elbows, up between my legs. I moved back, my ass scraping against the rough tile—

I quickly adjusted my bikini bottoms, making sure the scar was covered.

“Do you still want a secret?” He kissed my neck, my chest. His hand cupped a breast as he moved down, my stomach, my belly-button—

Too close—

“Please,” I said, squirming.

“You signed something upstairs, didn’t you?”

A cold chill run down my spine. He spread my legs wider, kissed my inner thigh. I sucked in a breath and suppressed the pleasure-sigh that tried to escape.

“Roza told me not to mention it.”

“She said it was an NDA, correct?” His mouth moving closer to my pussy and I moved my hips, not sure if I was trying to escape or trying to get closer to those lips.

“To keep me from talking about this place. She said it was an NDA and some other contract, I don’t know. I didn’t read it.”

“I didn’t think you would.” He stopped, inches from my core. I moaned and wanted to grab his hair, but he pulled himself up, pushing with his powerful arms and I scrambled back to make room for him. I leaned back on my hands as he stood up, water dripping off him in waves, down his gorgeous, chiseled chest and lips, that mouth I loved and hated and wanted, down his muscular legs and over the outline of his barely-contained erection, thick and massively long, shockingly large, and even that I wanted, all of it, all of him—

“What’s the secret, Roman?” My lips hung over. My breath came in ragged gasps.

“You didn’t sign an NDA, kukolka.”

“What did I sign?”

I didn’t want to hear. Didn’t want to know.

“You signed a pre-nuptial agreement and a marriage certificate.”

I stared at him in horror and scrambled away until my back smashed up against the bench behind me.

12

Cassie

My head felt like it might unhook from my neck and float up toward the mural on the ceiling. “Pre-nup? Marriage certificate? What the hell are you talking about?”

My back ached from where I’d smashed into the bench. I sat up and glared at him.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face as water continued to drip down his incredible body.

My mind raced again, thinking back to those papers. Roza hadn’t let me look at them—hadn’t let me even see the bottom page.

Tags: B.B. Hamel Erotic
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