Page 8 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

Chapter Three

Anna

The glass reflected his silhouette—blurry, but I could still make out those broad shoulders, the taut lines of muscle.

Heat pooled between my legs. Something foreign stirred low in my belly. I pressed my thighs together, grinding against my clit. My heart hammered so hard I thought it'd burst from my throat.

What the hell was wrong with me?

He was a complete stranger. Yet I couldn't stop imagining his body.

Twenty-two years. I'd kept every man at arm's length because of Gary. Even proximity made me sick. But this man was different. Those gray-blue eyes—like frozen Siberian lakes. Still. Suffocating. The danger rolling off him, the weight of it, hooked into the softest part of me. A glass door separated us, but I could smell him anyway. That scent slipped through the crack, wrapped around me until my limbs went liquid.

"Sir."

My breathing hitched. A soft gasp escaped. If he hadn't stopped earlier, he'd have me pinned to the bed right now. He'd fist my hair, drive into me from behind.

Drive into me.

The words struck like sparks on kindling. Everything ignited. I spread my legs, fingers grazing that sensitive flesh. Current shot up my spine. I bit my lip to trap the sound, circling slowly. All I could see was the way he'd looked at me—dark as ink, like he wanted to devour me whole.

"Wildcat, slip your claws inside."

The water had stopped. When had it stopped? His command cut through the silence.

I exhaled shakily. Every rational thought screamed at me to stop. But my trembling finger pushed inside anyway.

God, so hot. The heat consumed me. My walls clenched around the intrusion. Pleasure burned through my belly like ignited cotton—soft and scalding. I was melting.

"How does it feel?"

A hint of amusement colored his voice, like he was teasing a drowning cat.

"Strange, sir." I bit my lip, but my fingers moved faster. "What should I do next?"

Christ. Why was I asking that? But I couldn't stop.

"Try another finger."

I bit down harder, arched my back, and pushed a second finger in. The stretch made my lower back ache. That fullness rushed from my core to the crown of my head. I turned my face. A moan escaped, fractured, dissolving in the steam.

He went quiet, but his gaze burned through the glass, branding my skin.

My whole body shook. My fingers grew wetter. Sweat dampened my temple. My mind hazed over. Instinct tookcontrol—rocking my hips. Each time my fingertips grazed that soft spot inside, I jolted, toes curling tight.

He was still watching.

I couldn't stop. Didn't want to. His rough voice and shadow filled my head. Pleasure built like rising floodwater, coursing through every vein. For a moment, I dissolved completely, melting into his silhouette.

I slumped against the glass. Heart erratic, skin flushed and damp. I could barely open my eyes.

Footsteps approached.

The glass behind me vibrated with a soft knock. The lock turned. Warm body heat enveloped me from behind. His palm, slightly cool with calluses, traced my sweat-slicked waist upward. His jaw pressed against my wet neck. He laughed low. "Such a good girl."

His breath swept across my nape, making my relaxed body tremble again.

I mumbled something. "If you're satisfied, sir."