Page 92 of The Harbinger
He stalked forward, and I retreated, his gaze narrowing until his eyes shone like black pinpricks. My back bumped into the hanging clothes, sending some clattering to the floor. He lunged, and my back crashed into the wall behind the clothing, his tight grip wrapped around my throat. “Mia,” he said with an even-tempered tone. His thumb moved against my jugular in a gentle but deadly caress, a reminder of my life being in his hands. “Last night was just aperekus.Asnack.” He ran his nose up my throat as his hand shifted towards my face. His fingers pressed into the soft flesh, grinding my inner cheeks against my molars. “We haven’t even gotten to the main course yet.”
I tossed my head to the side, and a sharp pinch bit into my cheeks. “That’s not going to happen,” I grind out.
“Sweet, Mia. Your naivety is delicious.”
My hand itched to wipe the smugness off his face, but knowing him, he’d probably make me kneel on nails.
His fingers slipped from my pained cheeks as his hands dropped to my hips. “I don’t like being late.”
I wrapped my arm over my waist, careful not to cover my breasts.
Sacha sat back on the bench where I’d placed the heels, and he held his hands out, his knees wide, commanding the room. “Dress.”
I turned to my left, searching for my clothes, then remembered they were on the floor to my right. The blazer cozied up against my bare skin but rode low between my cleavage leaving barely anything to the imagination, yet hiding the hickey he’d left on me. I buttoned the wide belt strapped just below my breasts, making them sit higher. Sliding my pants over my hips, I secured them at my waist, ever so conscious of the lack of bra and panties in this white outfit.
He held one hand out and pointed to my foot, his wordless demand louder than an army’s shouts on the battlefield.
I placed my left foot in his palm and shivered. His warmth seeped through my arch as he held me in place while reaching for the shoe.
“Don’t tell me you have a foot fetish, as well,” I chortled.
His smoldering black eyes peeked up at me with a raised brow. “I’d fetishize every part of your body,milaya. Ty krasiva.”
I leaned away from him, placing my heel on the floor as I flicked my thumb against my middle finger.
One, two, three.
“Another way of calling me a wanting whore or something?”
“No.” He flicked his hand up, motioning for my right foot, and I lifted it, my stomach in knots.” I said, you’re beautiful.”
My heart fluttered as I tilted my head to the side, watching him slip my shoe over my foot. His warm grip slipped up my calf, sending a flood of shivers up my thighs.
But it was his darkening gaze that danced my way that had me pulling my leg from his grasp and stumbling back.
His eyes bore into me, the same look he’d given me the night before when he shoved himself into my mouth and took pleasure in my suffering. It was an inviting darkness, teasing with a sense of excitement – but once you were in, there was only him and the evil things he liked to do.
Sacha stood as he rolled his broad shoulders, readjusting the suit jacket around them, then pulled at the shirt by the wrists.
My gaze lingered on the rudimentary fading tattoos adorning his fingers so blurred with bad ink they’d be impossible to make out from a distance. But I’d had those fingers and hands as close as one could get. What would possess a man of considerable wealth to get them?
“You’re like that open book out there.” Sacha closed the distance and placed his hand on my lower back, ushering me out of the closet toward the vanity.
“A jumble of confusion wrapped inside delicate pages?”
Sacha reached for the top drawer on the vanity, and my heart sputtered like an Oldsmobile on its last leg.
He couldn’t… If he…
I slipped between him and the vanity and slid my hand up his chest while my other searched for the baggie of white powder—my lifeline, my backup plan in a world where I didn’t have the blueprints.
His brows pulled together as he engulfed my hand on his chest with his. “Predictable.”
My fingers maneuvered brushes and hair pieces aside until the smooth, raised surface of the plastic caused my fingers to stutter. I palmed the baggy and pressed into him. “How can I be predictable whenIdon’t even know what will happen next?”
I dashed my lips across his in the quickest kiss of all time, then pulled back with my stomach replicating the confusion on those pages.
“Was that predictable?”