Vuk Markovic.
I thought his photos were intimidating, but they didn’t do him justice. In person, he was downright terrifying. It wasn’t his size or the vicious scar bisecting his face into two icy halves. It wasn’t the unsmiling mouth, the burn marks around his throat, or those pale blue, almost colorless eyes.
It was the sense of danger he emitted, like a predator dressed in sheep’s clothing. Even in a custom ten-thousand-pound tux, he didn’t look like a CEO. He looked like someone who would calmly and efficiently dismember you with his bare hands if you crossed him.
A chill skittered down my spine when those unsettling eyes brushed over me, but they didn’t pause. They simply skimmed over me like I didn’t exist.
He scanned the room without a hint of emotion. It seemed like he was searching for someone, but whoever it was must not have been there because his mouth thinned with displeasure.
An older woman came up beside him and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and walked toward the Boss, breaking the spell of silence that had descended upon his arrival.
The room released a collectively held breath, and chatter picked up again.
“I guess he’s not going to give a thank-you speech,” I said wryly.
“He’s hot.”
My head snapped toward her. “Who? Markovic?”
“Yeah. In a scary, I-might-kill-you-after-I-fuck-you sort of way. But it works. What?” she said defensively when I arched my eyebrows. “I have a thing for bad boys.”
“Sometimes, you worry me.”
“I always do,” she said with more cheer than the situation warranted. She glanced over my shoulder again, a small smile creeping onto her face. “But I think you’ll feel much better soon.”
“What—”
“I hate to interrupt, but do you mind if I steal Scarlett away?” Asher’s smooth voice interjected along with a hand on my hip. “I have something important I need to show her.”
Brooklyn smirked. “I’m sure you do.”
Heat scalded my face. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Nah. It’s a fun place to be, but I can take a hint.” She winked at us on her way to say hi to Adil. “Have fun.”
“What’s this important thing you need to show me?” I asked Asher suspiciously as he led me around the edge of the entryway toward the main part of the house. “It’s not your dick, is it?”
His chuckle rose over the din, teasing my senses. “Not necessarily, but if you want to see it…”
My blush deepened. “I’ve seen it plenty. I don’t need—what are you doing?” I squealed out a laugh when Asher pulled me into a dark room off the foyer and locked the door behind us.
“Stealing some time alone with my girlfriend.” He lifted me onto one of the side tables and stepped in between my legs. “I’m tired of sharing you with other people.”
“We were apart for ten minutes max, and we see each other every day.”
I officially moved into Asher’s house last month after the lease on my flat expired. It was a huge step, but it was also a natural progression of our relationship.
“True,” he conceded. “But ten minutes is too long, and every day isn’t enough.”
“You’re impossible,” I said with another laugh. “Even so, Mr. Markovic is going to be very upset if he finds out we’re desecrating his…” My voice trailed off for a second, and my breath hitched when Asher’s hand slid up my leg. “Whatever this room is.”
Drawing room? Living room? Sitting room? My muddled brain noticed chairs and tables, but the bulk of my attention had diverted toward the graze of Asher’s fingers against my thigh.
“I just won Mr. Markovic his first Premier League title in a decade.” Asher lowered his head, his velvety murmur making me shiver. “I think he’ll give me some grace.”
My resistance gradually melted like snow beneath the sun as he feathered kisses along my jaw.
“I don’t know,” I breathed. “He seems pretty unforgiving. Do you think he’s…” I swallowed as Asher’s hand found the lace edge of my knickers. “Um, do you think he’s actually in business or…” I gasped, my words dissolving into a burst of pleasure when he slipped his fingers beneath the lace and found my slick arousal.
Asher kissed his way back up to my mouth. “Scarlett?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to talk about Markovic, or anything else, right now.”
Heat fluttered between my legs. “So what do you want to do instead?”
His grin was pure wickedness in the dark.
“Why tell you…” he drawled, sinking to his knees. “When I could show you?”
Those were the last words we exchanged for the next half hour.
I had no idea if people were looking for us or if Markovic would be upset about us defiling his drawing/living/sitting room.
If they were, and he was, we’d deal with it together. We always did.
For now, I allowed myself to abandon my worries and sink into the pleasure of the moment.
