Page 76 of Cashmere Cruelty

I freeze. I don’t dare say a word. All I can do is shoot a covert glance at my baby daddy’s face, the long shadows of the night covering his expression. A curtain I can’t peek through.

And then his mouth moves.

One more kiss, just shy of my knuckles. This time, he lingers, brushing against my skin in a slow caress. Indulgent. Like he’s savoring the taste of me.

“Matvey…?” I venture, voice small.

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t stop, either. Up, up, all the way to the curve of my wrist, kissing the spot where the bone dips. Then higher still.

I’m quivering from head to toe. This isn’t warmth—this is a bonfire. And right now, I’m dangerously close to the flame.

“This is a bad idea,” I breathe once those burning lips rise all the way up my arm, my bare shoulder, planting shivers all over. Goosebumps—my skin rising to meet his.

He doesn’t deny it. “Mm,” is all he says, a growl that I can feel against my throat. He nips at the delicate skin there, dragging a gasp from me, but I force myself to swallow it. Force myself to keep it quiet. If I do, maybe he won’t realize how badly I want this. How badly Ineed it.

But it’s already too late.

His lips meet mine. It’s the barest brush of skin, almost an accident. I exhale raggedly, my breaths coming in short, failing me?—

Suddenly, I feel his strong fingers trapping my chin, forcing me to turn my head and look him in the eye. Cerulean eyes, the color of frostbite.

“Good or bad doesn’t matter,” he whispers against me, his lips a hair’s breadth from mine. As he speaks, I can feel them moving. “Do you want this?”

I wish I could say no. I wish I could turn my head away, put one foot in front of the other, leave his kisses behind. I wish that I could make the smart choice, for once.

But I’ve never been a good liar.

And my heart makes terrible choices.

“Yes,” I breathe.

So he kisses me.

He kisses me long and deep. He kisses like he’s hungry, like we haven’t just had the kind of dinner that could make you sleepy just by glancing at it. He kisses like he’sstarving.

And I’m the only meal worth going for.

We stumble backwards into the ottoman. He catches me by the waist, lowering me down gently. It paints a stark contrast with the way his mouth is devouring me. Bite after bite, like an offering.

“Fuck,” he groans into the curve of my neck. “You were made for this.”

I shudder. The second his sandpaper voice strokes my ear, I lose it completely. “Matvey…” I breathe, unable to say anything else, anything coherent. It feels so good—to finally have a name.

His teeth scrape all the way down: down my jaw, my neck, my throat. At the same time, I can feel his hands working at my sash, tugging impatiently to pull it free.

Finally, my dress falls open.

I try to fight the impulse to cover myself back up. It’s embarrassing—my belly’s gigantic right now, stretched full with the evidence of what we did last time we ended up like this. It makes me feel self-conscious, even more than usual. After all, there’s no way anyone would find this body?—

“Beautiful,” Matvey murmurs. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”

He forces my hands back at my sides. Forces me to let himlook.Even his eyes seem to be devouring me right now, leaving behind nothing but bones. No: I have a feeling he’d crush those under his teeth, too. Anything to swallow me whole, to have more of me.

Then he kneels between my legs, and suddenly, I can’t think straight.

“Mat—” I start, but my words are cut short. Swallowed, almost literally. Abruptly, his tongue claims me where I’m most sensitive, sending shocks of pleasure down my spine, and it’s all I can do to bite my lips and choke on my own voice.

But he won’t have that. “No,” he snarls, five fingers pressing into each thigh. Keeping them apart. “Let me hear you fall to pieces for me.”