While the pie was cooking, I went upstairs to shower and put my makeup on. It was almost fifty degrees and sunny, which blew my mind because it was the middle of January. I was used to the winter months being endless days of seasonal depression and freezing cold.
I changed into a pair of jeans, a light yellow sweater, and flat espadrilles. Then I curled my hair carefully and brushed it out until it fell in soft waves around my face and swiped on some pink lipstick. I looked presentable enough.
The pie was done when I got back downstairs and I set it out to cool for a minute and climbed the stairs to my husband’s office. The door was shut and I heard the faint rumble of voices as I knocked. Silence followed and then Leonid pulled the door ajar.
Viktor sat at his desk, his phone before him. I could tell as soon as I stepped in the room that he was on a call.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving to bring Magnolia a pie.”
“It’s alright, it’s just Lucien,” said Viktor.
Lucien’s silky voice cut through the room. “Is that Sienna?”
I’d thought after the last several days that my anger with my cousin had calmed down, but as soon as I heard his voice, it all came rushing back. My fists clenched against my sides and hot rage bubbled up in my chest like a volcano.
“Fuck you, Lucien,” I snapped.
Viktor’s jaw tensed and Leonid clearly understood enough English to realize what I’d said because his eyes widened.
“Let me call you back,” Viktor said lightly, tapping the red button and ending the call. “Leonid, out please.”
Before I could react, Leonid had stepped out and shut the door, leaving me alone with Viktor. There was a glint in my husband’s eye that I’d never seen before and it chilled me to the pit of my stomach. His shoulders tensed and he leaned forward in his chair and laced his fingers. He took a deep breath.
“Have you ever considered thinking before you speak?” he said evenly.
I scowled at him and rolled my eyes.
“Come here,” he ordered.
There was no room in his tone for argument. Heart pounding and stomach fluttery, I circled the desk and drew near. He turned his chair to face me and his hand slid up the side of my thigh, closing around my hip. His palm was warm and, despite my nerves, heat curled between my thighs.
“What can I do to tame you?” he said, his pale gaze boring into me. “I have a feeling orders and punishment aren’t going to work with you. So what do you need?”
My mouth was too dry to speak. God, he was so sexy when he was a little angry like this. His brows were drawn together with a faint crease between them and his mouth was set in a line.
He traced the front of my jeans with his fingertips to my inner thigh. This time, instead of stopping, his middle finger moved up to the seam over my pussy. Even through the thick fabric, his touch burned like fire. A quiet moan rose in my throat and I clenched my fists, trying to keep it down. All that came out was a little, strangled gasp that roused a flash of triumph in his eyes.
“Is that what you need, baby girl?” he said, his voice husky. “Do you think you could behave if I made you come…work all that attitude out of you?”
In spite of myself, I nodded, every nerve in my body raw and tingling with desire. God, I was so desperate for him to touch me I couldn’t hide it anymore.
He rubbed his finger back and forth over the seam of my jeans, pressing it into my clit. Pleasure thrummed deep in my hips and I ground against his hand, my breath coming fast now. If he did this for much longer, he’d have me begging him for relief. Which, judging by the glitter in his eyes, was exactly what he wanted.
The air was as thick as a brewing storm as our gazes locked. He seized my hips with both hands and pulled me closer, his fingers skimming back down to the zipper of my jeans. His touch brushed the bare skin of my stomach as my sweater rode up, scorching like fire, sending heat shooting through my body.
I closed my eyes as his big hands tugged down my zipper and parted the front of my jeans. His head dipped and his mouth skimmed the waistband of my panties. His breath was hot, burning to my core. His tongue flicked out, kissing, licking, leaving little trails of wetness over my skin. My breath came in short, fast gasps as he put his warm, hard hands beneath my jeans and pushed them down my thighs.
I knew he’d seen flashes of my panties and even what was beneath before, but allowing him to strip me down was a different sensation entirely. My stomach fluttered and warmth surged deep within my hips, awakening a second heartbeat between my thighs. When I shifted my hips, I felt the wetness gathered at my entrance, slippery and hot. If he could do this to me by touching me over my clothes, what could he do if I let him get me naked?
Then my jeans were on the floor around my ankles. He lifted me easily and set me on the edge of the desk and I clung to him, my fingers digging into his hard shoulders. He tugged off my shoes and yanked my bunched jeans onto the floor, leaving me naked except for my panties from the waist down.
He pressed me down to the desk, but I hesitated, looking up at him for reassurance. Our eyes locked for a long moment and then he slid his forearm beneath my waist and bent, his mouth just brushing mine.
“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed. “I’ll fuck the attitude out of you later, I promise you that.”
Images of his hard, slender body slamming into mine filled my brain and I moaned under my breath, going limp in his grasp. Yielding completely to him. His body pressed me down on the desk and I sank beneath him. Falling through the roaring in my ears and the pounding in my veins. The ceiling swam overhead and I closed my eyes, blocking out everything but his touch.
This was happening. This was really happening.