“Where have you been so early?” she asked, trying to distract herself.
A wall dropped over his features. “I had business to attend to.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What sort of business?”
“My business.” He turned away from her and picked up the folded Tribune from the counter. He unfolded it and started reading as if she wasn’t there.
She stepped around his body and put her hand over the paper. “Our business. Remember?”
He looked up at her, a firestorm of anger in his eyes. It was the same expression he’d worn when they’d been children, the day he’d beaten the boy who’d shoved her on the lawn. “I decide what’sourbusiness. Now, remove your hand.”
Her mind was screaming a warning. She didn’t need to do this. It had only been a day since their marriage. Surely she didn’t expect him to share every detail. Surely she could wait, allow him to ease into shared confidences.
After all, she hadn’t told him all of her plans.
But she couldn’t stop. She was angry — at herself for allowing him to affect her the way he had, at him for managing to do it even when he was a cold bastard.
“I have sacrificed for our arrangement,” she said, leaving her hand on the paper. “You will honor it.”
He moved so quickly, she hardly registered it. One second she was standing at the island, her hand splayed across the paper. The next she was up against the refrigerator, Lyon’s body pressed hard against hers, one of his hands encircling her wrists as he stretched them over her head.
“And what great sacrifice have you made?” He was breathing hard, his voice low and menacing.
Her heart thrummed with fear, beating like the wings of a panicked bird. “My freedom. My future.”
She thought he would say something biting in return, that perhaps he might even hit her. Instead he lowered his face to her neck and murmured against her skin while grinding his erect cock slowly against her sex.
“You speak as if it’s a punishment to be here, but I’ll bet if I slip my fingers inside you, I’ll find you wet and ready for me.”
God help her, he was right. Desire flooded her sex, her body pulsing with need as his erection pressed into her. She knew what it would feel like, to be naked and writhing under him, to feel him slide into her slow and deep.
Her nipples were so hard they hurt against the lace of her bra, and she stifled a moan as she imagined his hot mouth locking onto them and sucking as he fucked her.
“Shall we see,voronochka?” He used the Russian word for “little sparrow,” his voice a strange mix of anger and affection that only served to confuse her further. “Shall I push my fingers inside you? Force your tight little pussy to tell the truth while your luscious mouth tells lies?”
Her body was begging for him in spite of his crassness.
Or maybe because of it.
She wanted to reach into his trousers, feel his cock in her hands, wrap her legs around his hips and let him drive into her.
But then he would know he was right. She did want him, however much she hated herself for it.
She lifted her chin and stared daggers at him, grateful for all her years of practice. She didn’t have many talents, but she was good at keeping people at a distance.
“Are you going to assault me now?” She flung the words at him. “Go ahead. You probably think it’s your right. I am, after all, your wife.”
He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes unfocused in the moment before they cleared into brittle chips of amber. “There will be no need for assault, wife. When I take you — and I will take you — you will be begging for my mouth on your clit, begging for my cock inside you.”
A fresh wave of heat flooded her traitorous body.
She glared at him. “Never.”
He smirked and stepped away. “We’ll see.”
She didn’t move until his footsteps had receded through the living room and down the main hall, the elevator opening and closing as he left the apartment.
Only then did she bury her face in her hands, her breath coming fast and shallow.