The Darkness Within

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Four

Several weeks of doing nothing but waiting later, I'm ready to crawl out of my skin. For nearly two months, both Sergei and I have been cooped up on his estate. Though that's not much of a struggle for him—he has plenty of tasks to keep him busy—I'm not as lucky. The work he gives me only takes a few hours each day. Training takes another few. Outside of that, I have nothing to do but read.

As much as I enjoy reading and learning, it's starting to get old—something I'd never have expected.

When my arm was paining me, being relatively stationary was helpful. Now that the sling is off and I'm back to full, pain-free mobility, I'm full of restless energy that has no outlet.

On top of that, I've become a ball of pure sexual frustration. As much as I appreciate Sergei respecting my no-sex rule—outside of teasing, gentle brushes that set my nerve-endings on fire and make me ache for him—he hasn't touched me at all, and I'm quite frankly over it.

Which is why, while Sergei's working a particularly late night in his office, I decide to saunter in wearing a thin silk bathrobe that barely brushes the tops of my thighs and a pair of gravity-defying high heels.

Sergei isn't in his usual spot at the desk, instead he's lounging on the couch in front of the fireplace. A laptop rests on the coffee table in front of him, half-closed. The top three buttons on his crisp blue shirt are opened, revealing a peek of his muscular chest, and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. In one hand, he holds a tumbler with an amber liquid, swirling it thoughtfully. In his other hand is a phone, held up to his ear, into which he's speaking rapidly.

When he hears the door to his office open and close, he glances towards me. That simple glance turns into a heated doubletake. He trails off in the middle of his sentence, eyes running from my face, to the peek of my bra he can see through a crack in the bathrobe, down to my thighs, and then my heels.

He says into the phone, "We're going to have to finish this conversation tomorrow," and hangs up.

Then, he sets down the phone and his glass of whiskey and exhales a long breath. I can see the bulge in his pants growing steadily bigger, which confirms my theory that this outfit would have him hard in less than ten seconds.

He stares at me hungrily, then growls, "What are you doing all the way over there?"

I smile slowly, seductively. "I have a proposition for you."

He's on his feet in an instant, crossing to me. Before he can pull me into his arms—which I can see he's more than keen to do, I brace my hand flat on his chest to hold him at a foot's distance.

"I have a proposition," I repeat.

He lets out what sounds like a pained chuckle. "You have my full attention. If it doesn't end up with your moans in my ear, however, I'll have to make some changes to whatever plan you've come up with."

Leisurely, I reach my other hand up to his chest, and start slowly flicking open the rest of the buttons, enjoying each inch of his hard torso as it comes into view.

"I want to have sex with you—"

"Thank fuck."

When he reaches for my waist eagerly, I step back, which makes his eyes darken.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I want to have sex with you on my terms."

His eyebrows lift, as if this is a development he didn't anticipate. A fleeting flicker of irritation briefly glints in his eyes, there as quickly as it's gone, telling me that either he only wants sex on his terms, or he's annoyed that he didn't predict me walking into his office at random and demanding sex. I'd bet on the latter. I do appreciate being able to surprise him.