Just moments ago, Yelena had been dreading Mika's presence—haunted by the memory of last nightwhen he'd held her—his hands roaming her body, sliding over her butt, inching toward her breasts, his voice dripping with dirty promises about what he'd do to her, his eyes burning with lust instead of the gentle love she was used to, she'd felt unmoored.
He'd even put his mouth on her nipple, sucking lightly, a sensation so shocking she couldn't forget it. And even after scrubbing herself raw in the shower, trying to wash away his touch, the ache lingered, as if his lips were still on her, branding her skin.
All day, she'd rubbed her nipple absentmindedly, like scratching a persistent itch, but the feeling wouldn't fade.
It was as if Mika's presence was etched into her body, a constant reminder of her own forbidden desires.
That's why, when Mika returned home, she'd kept her distance, pulling away from every attempt he made to get close.
