Dark Desire by Lauren Smith (an ebook reader txt) 📗

anything he’d ever imagined. It was a kiss to build a world upon. His body shook as he parted her lips and delved deeper, wanting to burn her taste into his memory so that it would be carved into the marrow of his bones. Her lips curved into a smile, playful and sweet, as she tugged on the strands of his hair. They moved back toward the shower and separated only long enough for her to turn on the water before he dragged her, giggling, back into his arms.

Elena felt light, as though a gentle mountain breeze could lift her up and carry her to faraway places. She was ready. She wanted this, and she wanted Dimitri. The danger that loomed on the horizon had cast a brilliant clarity on her life as to what truly mattered. She thought back to what her father had once said when she’d fallen off a horse during a jump.

“A person who never falls never gains the strength to get up and try again.”

Admitting the fact that she had been knocked down by Vadym had been the first step in finding the strength to get back up. She was raising her fists, ready for the next fight, and she was stronger this time. Knowing that made her more hungry to live her life than to be afraid of it.

She escaped Dimitri’s arms long enough to peel the bathrobe off her body before she moved back into the steamy shower stall. Her beautiful Russian badass was speechless as he gazed at her. She didn’t think about the scars on her back, didn’t worry about any of it. It didn’t matter anymore. Dimitri stepped toward her, and she held up a finger.

“I think you’re forgetting something, sir.” She emphasized his title with a grin as she pointed at his pants and boots.

The wolfish gleam in his eyes deepened as he kicked off his boots and socks and then reached for his jeans. He unfastened his belt, slipping it free of his jeans and letting it drop before he unzipped the dark denim and tugged the jeans down. Elena’s throat caught at the sight of the corded muscles that led down to a set of muscles that formed a V shape, which directed her gaze even lower. He slid his briefs off and then stepped toward her.

All power, all strength, all perfect masculinity. And he was hers.

Elena trembled with excitement as she moved deeper into the shower, hot water cascading down her body. He pursued, a slow dance of predator and prey that excited her beyond imagining. This ritual was as old as time, the mating of bodies and souls.

Dimitri caught her waist and gently pressed her against the cool granite wall of the shower, his flesh against hers, sending waves of heat rolling through her. It was as though the fire inside her moved her into him, fusing them together until his blue eyes glowed with a mix of lust and something softer and deeper.

She basked in the magnificence of his naked form—the raw, sinewy, powerful build of him. He was solid as a wall, massive and unyielding, and it made her feel small and feminine, but not weak. She felt in control, knowing her body caused the same reaction in him. His face hid nothing from her. That was the beauty of domination and submission. She gave up herself to him, yet she had the real power. She could see his desire in his eyes. He found joy in her surrender and their mutual pleasure.

Dimitri’s hands slid up her sides, his large, calloused palms gentle, but possessive, as he memorized her every curve with his touch. He branded her in a way no scar left by Vadym ever could.

He captured her mouth, kissing her, leaving no room for her to kiss him back. She could only submit as he took what was his. With a soft growl, he turned her around to face the wall.

“Hands,” he commanded, and she placed her palms on the wall.

Then he kissed her neck, the shell of her ear, nibbling on places that made her legs tremble and threaten to give out. His hands slid up her body to her breasts, which were full and heavy. She arched, pressing them against his waiting palms. Her nipples pebbled into hard points and rasped against his skin. He pinched each peak, the hint of pain heightening her building pleasure.

“Are you mine?” His warm breath tickled her ear. The words felt forbidden, that she could belong to no man, but she did. She was his, heart, body, and soul. She nodded, and he punished her with a gentle slap on one ass cheek.

“Use your words, kiska.”

Every nerve in her body came alive at the command.

“Yes, I am yours, sir.” The words were her vow to him. No matter what happened, no matter what her bloodline would bring down on them, she was his.

“Tell me you are priceless, kiska. That you are beautiful inside and out.” He fisted a hand in her hair, his fingers firm but gentle. Always gentle, this beautiful, sexy Russian Dom.

“I’m priceless . . . I’m beautiful inside and out.” She spoke the words, her heart swelling. She choked down a sob at the sudden joy that filled her. She believed the words.

“Now, tell me what you want, kiska.” He nipped her ear again, and she whimpered as a flash of arousal weakened her knees.

“I need you, sir. I need you to make love to me. I need you to remind me what it feels like.”

He rewarded her by turning her in his arms again and kissing her. It was a slow kiss, one that reminded her of summer days, endless sunlight, and the joy of being alive and having the entire world ahead of her.

“I will always give you what you need,” Dimitri promised. His eyes held hers, his body cradled hers, and she knew then that she loved this man more than her own life.

He lifted her up in