Vengeance Aside (Wanted Men 0.5)(25)

People came and went. No one stayed in her life for very long. She knew that and would keep in mind that Lukas Zavrazin wouldn’t be any different. No matter what kind of absurd romantic shit he spewed about her belonging to him, he would eventually move on and so would she.

Feeling depressed as hell all of a sudden, she got out of Farah’s dress but paused when she remembered the look that had been in Lukas’s eyes when he’d approached the bar where Nero had cornered her. The shiver that rattled her bones made her skin shrink.

Lust. That’s all it was. This couldn’t be real, because real didn’t exist. It was only there until it wasn’t.

She stepped into the fashionably torn jeans that were the type of soft denim she’d never worn before, slithered into a silky white tank with the thinnest of spaghetti straps, and slid her feet into a pair of creamy leather sandals that had gems and rhinestones that glittered beautifully with her cheap toe ring. She needed a bra, she saw when she looked in the mirror.

Or not.

Giving her straight hair a final brush so that it swished across her lower back, she put the new tool down and left the bathroom with her back arched just enough to draw a pair of male eyes…

He wasn’t around.

“Hello?”

“I haven’t left you.”

Her blood heated at his response and she trudged over to where it had come from. The walk-in closet was large enough to have an island in the center or it, but she paused just outside so as not to invade his privacy.

“At the risk of sounding crass,” she said before deliberately sounding crass as she pinched her nipples to keep them hard—she nearly fell to the floor as pleasure speared her, “and I wouldn’t say this to anyone but you—”Because I’d never say it at all. “—but, money is comfy. I’d ask where your shopper got these jeans, but there’d be no point.” The sooner they had sex, the sooner the novelty would wear off, and she could be on her way.

“What makes me so special?”

“I’m still not sure.” She almost gasped, then wanted to punch herself in the mouth for allowing that to slip out untethered. He wasn’t special. He was just really, really tempting and dangerous. And beautiful and kind, though, murdery and…special? “You seem to appreciate that I speak my mind,” she grumped, annoyed with herself for being honest in her own head. People lied to themselves all the time. Why couldn’t she?

“How do you know that?”

“I can just tell.” By the approval in his expression whenever she did it.

“And others haven’t?”

She shrugged even though he couldn’t see her, and turned to ogle the room now that he was otherwise occupied. “My dad used to get embarrassed by how much I talked.” The walls weren’t white, like the crown molding. They were more a pretty silver a few shades lighter than the plush carpet. There were two sets of French doors. Two. “He’d say people weren’t interested in a young girl’s opinion. I’ve learned along the way that he was right.” The four paintings on the walls were obviously from one artist as they showcased the same woman in different poses wearing a brilliant red dress. “People don’t care what you have to say. Most times, they’re just waiting for you to finish talking so they can start up again.” The furnishings were all the same dark walnut as the tallboy. She had to be standing in a thousand square feet of bedroom. There was a loveseat and coffee table in front of the gas fireplace, and not even that crowded things.

She jumped when she felt a hand skim down her hair. She didn’t turn as her heart stuttered then raced.

“I wondered how long it was.”

Goosebumps blew up on the right side of her body, and she had to shift to hide the shiver that followed. “Pretty long.”

“Yes.”

With meticulous care, Lukas gathered her hair in one hand and combed his fingers through it. She felt him and wished she could see him as he lifted the make-shift ponytail to his nose. He said something in Russian that had heat pooling in her lower belly. Not because she understood but because when he spoke in his mother tongue, it was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.

“Wanna translate?” God, how badly did she want to turn around and kiss him again. Not to distract him or to start something with the intent to finish it. But because she just needed to kiss him.

“You wouldn’t appreciate the translation.”

How would he know? “Try me.”

He pulled the ponytail to the side and pressed his lips to a ticklish spot on her neck. She stayed very still but for her eyelids fluttering and her muscles seizing. “I was thanking God for the treasure he gifted me with tonight. I told him I would worship you as a man was meant to worship his mate.”

He’d been right. She felt no appreciation for that at all. “How did you know I’d find something like that sort of vulgar?”

He laughed and slid an arm around her. Good thing, too, because that laugh…shiiit, her knees went numb and disappeared.

“Just a guess.” His hand splayed over her front, just below her breasts where those stupid butterflies were going wild. “Such a hard shell. You do know men enjoy a challenge, don’t you, yagodka?”

“Sure.” She fiddled with his watch because she didn’t know what else to do with her hands. “They also hate to lose, so I suggest you drop this romantic shit that’s wasted on me and just play with me for a couple of days before you cut me loose.”