Opening the cabinet, I stared at the empty bottom shelf. It was getting to the point I was about to put a lock on the entire cupboard, of which only the women in the house knew the code.
Sighing, I stood on my tiptoes and struggled to reach the glass far back on the top shelf. As I was about to give up and climb the counter, I felt it.
The hair on the back of my neck rose.
Nico’s body heat brushed my back as an inked forearm reached above me, grabbed a glass, and then set it on the counter next to me.
I tensed, my gaze focused on busted knuckles and an ace of spades tattooed on tanned skin.
Anger rolled off him, and in the dark kitchen it sent a cool mixture of fear and anticipation buzzing through me. Dropping to my heels and grasping the cup, I breathed, “Thanks.” I tried to move away from him, but I was forced to step back when his hands gripped the counter on either side of me, trapping me.
My heart drummed so fast it stole my breath.
“You know what happens when you dance around men looking like this?”
I swallowed and shook my head.
“They don’t respect you.” His voice was rough and so close to my ear it sent a shiver down my neck.
“Who said I want their respect?”
His grip tightened on the counter. “You want him to fuck you?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Christian,” he growled.
“And if I do?” I asked quietly.
“My earlier statement is withstanding.”
I inhaled slowly, trying to think clearly in his presence.
“Do you respect me?” I had no idea where it came from, but it was there now, lingering in the air with a heavy insinuation.
He didn’t answer.
A wave of shock rolled through me when the pad of his finger traced the hem of my swimsuit bottoms that still bared too much of my ass. My breath stopped when his other hand slid up my side and gripped my waist, beneath my breast. My nipples tightened, tingling in expectation. Heat pulsated between my legs, and I fought the desire to grab his hand and slide it up until he palmed my breast. I swayed, fighting the need to lean back against him, to feel his body against mine.
His finger slid under my bottoms, gliding over the curve of my ass where it almost met thigh. All the blood in my body sizzled when he came too close to a taboo part of me. Though, it was probably only taboo to me since no one had ever touched me there before.
Wetness pooled between my thighs. The desire for him to touch me, to slip his fingers inside me right here in the kitchen, was so strong I inched up on my tiptoes and arched my back, urging his hand lower.
He cursed roughly and pulled the fabric out from between my cheeks. His hand slid around my hip, grasping my waist to match the other one. They were so close to my breasts I was losing my mind. I fell back until I was leaning against him, and my entire body sang like it never had before.
My nerve endings buzzed and sparked like rain on a live wire. He was so warm and hard. His erection pressed against my lower back. Nicolas Russo was turned on, and I’d never experienced a single thing more thrilling.
My head rested on his chest, and the buttons on his dress shirt tickled my bare spine. I brought my hand to my waist and slipped my fingers between his. Our breathing filled the kitchen.
When I heard my brother’s laughter from downstairs, I realized how dangerous this was. Anyone could come in.
“You want me to respect you?”
It was a loaded question, but I only knew one answer. Only wanted one thing from this man, and only needed it once so I could know what it was like.
I shook my head.
I wanted him to disrespect me. Every inch of me.
His hands tightened on my waist almost painfully, as if he struggled to keep them there. He nuzzled the back of my head, but his voice was suddenly as cold as ice. “You like it when men disrespect you?”
A chill passed through me.
My hand still rested on his, and he gently spun my ring with a finger until the jewel faced downward. His teeth scraped my ear. “Or maybe you just like to get them all worked up, panting after you.”
His lips brushed my neck and goose bumps broke out along my body.
“So, which one is it?”
I was a slut or a tease.
Those were the options he’d given me—what he thought of me. Frustration expanded in my chest.
“Both.”
He stilled, before making an angry sound in his throat and shoving me away from him.
I grasped the counter, catching myself, and then spun around.
His gaze flared. “Looks like you’re as big of a cheat as I am, Elena.”
What was that supposed to mean? That was the second time he’d insinuated I was somehow disloyal.