Gently biting my earlobe, he releases his pinching grip on my clit, and I shudder as another, smaller shockwave causes my core to clench again.
Breathing raggedly, I open my eyes as he lifts his head, gazing down at me with savage satisfaction mixed with burning hunger.
“Your first?” he asks in a low, rough voice, and I nod on autopilot, my neurons still not firing properly. Distantly, I realize I’m shaking, my overheated skin cooling rapidly in the air-conditioned room as he withdraws his hand from between my legs and lifts it to his mouth. Pointedly, deliberately, he sucks each finger clean, the dirty action making me shudder with another, much weaker aftershock… along with shame and dawning horror.
What have I done? How could I have allowed him to do this to me?
I lick my swollen lips and taste the faint hint of cinnamon. Realizing I’m still clutching at his shoulders, I let go and plaster my palms against the wall, needing to feel something solid in a world that’s wobbling on its axis.
Alexei kissed me, and I didn’t stop him.
He made me come, right here in this empty ballroom.
The enormity of it is too much to process. All I know is that I failed his test in the worst, most mortifying way possible. And he knows it too.
Victory shines in his coal-dark eyes as he runs the pad of his thumb over the edges of my lips and says gently, “You might want to fix your lipstick before we go back out there, Alinyonok. All eyes will be on us as we make the announcement. Later tonight, we can resume this.”
He pushes off the wall and steps back, freeing me from the cage of his body, and a surge of panic chases away my mortification as the meaning of his words filters into my brain.
The engagement.
He plans to announce it right now… and then take me to bed.
My life as I know it ends tonight.
“Wait!” I call as he turns toward the door. I’m shaking even harder now, so overwhelmed by what has just occurred that it’s all I can do not to break down crying. “Alexei, please, wait.”
He turns back to face me, his eyebrows arched sardonically, and I know there’s nothing I can say to convince him to stop, to make him believe that I don’t want this. He gave me a chance, and I blew it.
I threw away my freedom for a kiss and an orgasm.
“Well?” He glances at his watch. “The music has already stopped, and the guests are gathering by the stage to hear a big announcement. We shouldn’t make them wait too long.”
“Alexei, please.” Pushing off the wall, I stagger toward him on unsteady legs. My temples throb agonizingly as the headache I’ve suppressed returns with sudden violence, adding to the turmoil within me. My stomach churns with nausea as I say urgently, “Please, can’t we just talk about it? I’m starting college in a few weeks. In New York City. I—”
“I know.” His jaw flexes as I stop in front of him. “We do need to talk about that, but not right now. Either way—”
“Please.” I grip his hand with both of mine, my desperation growing by the second.Either way, he said. Meaning that I might not be able to go to Columbia. Meaning that from this moment on, he expects to make all the decisions for me.
Like a horror movie reel, scenes from my parents’ marriage flash through my mind, only instead of my mom’s face, I see mine. And instead of my father, I see Alexei. I see him ruling my life with threats and blackmail, all the while manipulating my body and my emotions with the unholy attraction that he’s already used against me tonight. I see an endless parade of parties and networking events where I’m expected to look beautiful and smile, even as everything that I am withers and dies inside. I see our children growing up with the bitter knowledge that their parents hate each other and passing on that hate to future generations, perpetuating the awful cycle.
I see it all, and a sob rips from my throat as the tears I’ve been trying to hold back spill over, streaking down my cheeks in hot rivulets. His face blurs in my vision, the hammers pounding harder at my skull, and I clap both hands over my mouth as my nausea abruptly intensifies. Only it doesn’t help.
All I have time to do is lurch a few feet to the side before I fall onto my hands and knees and expunge the contents of my stomach onto the gleaming marble of the floor.
If I thought I was mortified before, it’s nothing compared to the way I feel as strong hands clasp my shoulders, stabilizing me as more heaves rack my shaking body. “That’s right. Get it all out,” Alexei murmurs, smoothing back a few hairs that have escaped my updo to cling to my clammy forehead. “You’ll feel better soon.”
No, I won’t. How could I, when he’s seen me be utterly disgusting? Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m aware that the likely culprit for this is the pills—either alone or in combination with the headache that’s making me feel like my brain is imploding—but that doesn’t help. I don’t even have a napkin to wipe my mouth. Moaning in pain and embarrassment, I try to crawl away from the scene of my crime, but Alexei pulls me to my feet and lifts me against his chest.
Startled, I grip his shoulders as he carries me over to one of the tables, where he knocks one of the upturned chairs to the floor with his elbow and deftly flips it upright with his foot before depositing me onto it.
“Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back,” he says softly, squeezing my shoulder, and before I can reply, he strides out of the room.
Like an obedient dummy, I sit, too weak and shaky to move. A minute later, he reappears with several damp paper towels, a bottle of water, a travel-sized mouthwash, and an empty plastic cup—supplies that he no doubt pilfered from the nearby men’s room. Crouching in front of me, he gently pats my lips with the damp towels, his manner as impartial as that of a nurse, and then he directs me to gargle with the mouthwash and spit into the cup. By the time I’m done with that, he’s opened the water bottle and is holding it out to me. Gratefully, I chug it down, feeling more human with every swallow.
“Better?” he asks as I lower the empty bottle to my lap, and I nod, unable to meet his gaze.
He takes the bottle from me and sets it on the floor. “How is your headache?”