ChapterFifteen
Alex
“You’re just so…indifferent.” Lev’s bicep flexes, but I don’t loosen my grip. “I want to know what the fuck happened to make you hate me so much.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t hate you.”
Sniffling, I relax my fingers. I haven’t quite recovered from the crying fit I had in his car—which was beyond embarrassing—and my throat cinches now, as though preparing for another round of tears. I can’t help it. He just frustrates me so much. “Then, what is it?”
“I pity you.”
Oh, that’s so much worse.
“I don’t want to marry you,” he confesses. “I want to go back to England to be with my grandparents. I want to get the fuck away from my bloodthirsty father and his black-market trading bullshit. I’d rather live in a little village overseas than keep trying to carve a place for myself in this god-forsaken town.”
My brow furrows as I take a step back, hugging my hands to my chest. I would much rather he hate me than pity me. Fuck, does he think I’m that fragile and pathetic?
He looks at me, jaw working from side to side for a moment before he admits, “But I can’t leave.”
“Why?”
“Because then Mikhail will take you.”
I frown. “But you want to run.”
“So badly.”
Hope slices through my pain. He wants to run. If I can earn his trust, please him enough, give him my entire life, then maybe he’ll take me with him. It’s the one thing that could actually redeem me from all the crap that’s piled up lately—and it would keep me from having to inherit my father’s empire.
When he starts to turn, I catch his shoulder, pulling him into me. I have to stand on my toes to kiss him, but I do gladly, passion energizing me with a renewed sense of purpose. I cradle his face, feeling the way his muscles fidget under my touch as I kiss him repeatedly. He’s hesitant at first, but then his slow responses shift rapidly into ravenous huffs that inspire my hands to glide to his chest.
A gasp breaks the kiss as his hands rove over my waist, my hips, and then my thighs. I tilt my head back to expose my neck, inviting him to decorate my shoulder with his lips. He’s eager to touch every inch of me in ways that feel far less hurried and selfish than the others. And it doubles my hope. It charges me with optimism, the taste of it like water on my parched tongue.
He nudges my chin with his nose and whispers, “Sit down.”
I’m willing to do anything for him. “I’m stuck, too, Lev.” My lips quiver when he pushes me to my back and nestles between my legs. The chair creaks beneath us, squealing with the added weight. “I’m caught in a trap.”
“Shh…”
He pops open my shorts and shimmies them off my hips, thumbs following the lines of my thong toward the V-shape made by my thighs. He threads his finger beneath the fabric and strokes my slit with his knuckle, drawing a shocked moan from my lips. I slap my hand over my mouth as electric bolts zap every inch of me.
Honey tints his gaze, sunlight lightening those dark brown pools with a different shade than I’m used to seeing. It’s strange to see his irises shift like that, to go from demonically cold to comfortingly warm. But that’s just him—he stings and then he soothes.
He tugs the fabric aside and unfurls his tongue, extending it in a painfully slow motion toward my slit. Anticipation grips me as he slides lightly over my pussy, the skin visibly twitching around the plush muscle that splits me open. His tender, rhythmic strokes shatter me while I clutch my shirt, the bunched fabric in my palms heating up with sweat and pleasure.
It’s the most gentle he’s been with me—and I love it more than anything. My heart seizes in my chest as he nestles deeper, teasing my entrance with the tip of his tongue. This type of pleasure is totally foreign to me. It’s not shameful and angry like when I touched myself while thinking about Parker. It’s certainly not the same fearful stimulation that came from Soren fingering me.
Lev is treating me like a person instead of an object. And I can’t help the broken cry that bursts through the air. He keeps his rhythm steady, his warm tongue massaging my clit until I convulse, grabbing his head to prevent him from pulling away. I buck so hard into his mouth that my shoulders and thighs cramp up, my channel clenching with the force of my orgasm.
Once I release his head, I slump into the chair, eyes closing promptly as I struggle to steady my breathing. The chair creaks as he shifts. I hear his footsteps drift past me, nearly diminish in the distance, and then return. Soft fabric nudges my sensitive clit and causes me to throb, eyes popping open to watch him clean me up.
He fixes my thong, pulls my shorts back on, and plants a kiss over the button. Where has this version of Lev been hiding? And why the hell has he kept it from me for so long?
“I want you to claim me,” I blurt, inviting his gaze. In a smaller voice, I add, “Through the marriage contract.”
Silence.
And just like that, we’re back on the frigid shores of Antarctica.
It takes a second for me to realize the two of us are moving mechanically back to his car. He drives us back to the entrance, turns right, and follows the road that leads to the familiar white pillars of my home.
Amos is standing on the steps when we arrive. Apprehension hooks my chest, prompting me to bow over my books as if they’re going to protect me. I muster a smile at my soon-to-be stepfather.
“Alexandra,” he greets cheerfully. He turns to Lev, his smile somewhat fading as he says, “And good afternoon, Lev. Thank you for bringing my stepdaughter home.”
Lev glares in response. The sight of him sizing up Amos makes me feel a little better. Even though things haven’t changed publicly, at least he still cares about my well-being.
At the very least, it makes me feel relieved.