She pulled herself up onto the bed and turned over. “You are so hot,” she said, holding her arms out. “Fuck me.”
“Fuck yourself.”
She smiled. “I can’t, I don’t have a cock.” She reached out for his, making him take a step back.
“Keep your hands to yourself.”
She let out a huge sigh. “Why are all the hot ones either gay, porn stars, or grumpy bums.” She let out another sigh. “Guess I have to dream about you fucking me.”
“The only dreams you should be having about me are fucking nightmares.”
“No, wet dreams,” she giggled.
He shook his head, thinking the woman was sex mad. Annoyed, he spun around and went back to the corner. He sat down and glared across the room at her, mad that she had the bed as well as his food. But there was no way he was sleeping next to her, especially not after what she’d said.
Wanting to go back to sleep, he closed his eyes, but reopened them as Andriena started snoring. “Shut up,” he snapped. She continued, making him regret giving her his food and wine. He closed his eyes again, praying for sleep... and to be free from the blue-eyed devil.
6
ANDRIENA
Andriena opened her eyes, instantly regretting it. Groaning, she brought a hand to her face, wondering what had happened, because her head was killing her—much more than usual. The memory of drinking Sasha’s wine came back and... She groaned louder, also remembering coming onto him. She pushed up in bed and looked across at Sasha. He was lying in the far corner, looking fast asleep.
The door opened, capturing her attention. Nikita and two armed guards entered, followed by three servants, who were carrying trays of food—too much for one person. She spotted spaghetti and a chocolate torta, her favorite meal. They laid it down on the table, along with another carafe of wine, the servants quickly leaving.
Nikita indicated to the food. “You can both eat now.”
“But I already ate,” she said.
“Two days ago.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I slept for two days?”
“Da.” His pale gaze moved to Sasha, who was still lying on the floor. “I think you should check on him. He hasn’t eaten for a week.”
“What?”
“He gave up food he badly needed, so go feed him. He looks like he’s passed out, rather than willingly sleeping.”
Nikita left the room with the guards, locking the door behind him.
Andriena pushed off the bed and went to Sasha, who had his face buried in his arms. She gave him a shake. He moaned, but didn’t awaken. She shook him again, getting another moan.
“Sasha, wake up,” she said. “We have food.”
He turned his head to look at her, making her gasp. The man was absolutely stunning. The swelling on his face had disappeared, revealing hollowed cheeks, while his bruising had faded, his blond stubble paling it further. And the line of his jaw, the sweep of his brow, his full lips ... everything was perfect ... minus the darkness under his eyes. He looked exhausted and a touch pale, the color in his cheeks gone.
“There’s food for you,” she said.
He closed his eyes. “Too tired.”
“You need to eat.”
“Can’t.”
“I’ll bring it to you, then.”
She got up and went to the table, bringing over the tray with the Beef Stroganoff as well as a bottle of water. She sat down on the floor in front of him and speared a piece of beef, holding it out for him to eat. When he didn’t move, she pressed it against his lips. He opened his mouth and took a bite, running his lips over the plastic fork, drawing the morsel off it. He chewed on it for a few seconds, then swallowed it down, drawing her attention to his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
“More,” he said, snapping her out of her fixation.
Feeling flustered, she quickly speared another piece of beef and placed it to his lips, watching as he wrapped his mouth around the fork again. Heat bloomed below, making her drop her gaze, guilt hitting her. The man was unwell, yet she was looking at him with desire? What was wrong with her?
He asked for more again. Trying not to look at his lips, other than to get the food into his mouth, she continued feeding him. After a minute, he placed a hand over hers, groaning, “Enough.”
She looked up, seeing him grimacing. “Are you all right?”
“Too much food. I haven’t eaten in days. It’s hurting my stomach.”
“Sorry.” She went to push up with the tray.
His hand whipped out, stopping her. “I need water.”
“Okay.” She passed him the bottle and got up, returning the tray to the table. Her eyes zeroed in on the plate of spaghetti, which was obviously her dish. Feeling famished, she sat down at the table and started eating, believing the guard in regards to how long she’d slept. Plus, she could never hold her liquor, alcohol affecting her more due to her brain injury.
She finished the spaghetti fast, then tucked into the chocolate torta, groaning as the rich flavor hit her taste buds. She wondered whether she was being treated better because of her sister. She couldn’t imagine Camila giving up on her. She just hoped that the Black Russian took Jagger’s money instead of enjoying his body, because her sister’s boyfriend hated being touched by men. The poor man had been badly abused by one of her uncles, the one she’d stabbed in the leg for trying to assault her lover.
Once she’d finished her food and had some wine, making sure to only have one glass, she returned her attention to Sasha. He was in the process of curling up, looking like he was going back to sleep.
“You can have the bed,” she said, wanting to do more for him. She still couldn’t believe he’d given up his food for her, even more so after finding out he hadn’t eaten in so long. It just made the gesture all that more poignant. She wanted to hug him for it, but knew he wouldn’t take too kindly to that.
“I’m fine,” he said, being overly stoic.
“No you’re not, so take it. You need it more than me.”
He uncurled himself and sat up. “You sure?” he asked, looking hopeful.
She nodded and pushed off the bed.
“Spasibo,” he thanked her.
He rose to his feet, looking unsteady. She went to him, placing an arm around his waist. He didn’t protest, allowing her to help him to the bed. She laid him down on the mattress, noticing a smudge above his brow. She wiped at it.
He jerked his head away. “What are you doing?”
“You had some dirt on your face.”
“You don’t need to baby me, I can wipe it myself.” He grimaced, a pained expression crossing his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to relieve myself.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and went to push up, but fell back onto the mattress. He swore and pushed up again, still looking wobbly. Like before, she slipped an arm around his waist to steady him. He exhaled loudly, but didn’t complain. She helped him to the bucket in the corner of the room.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
She did.
After several seconds, he muttered, “You can look now.”
She opened her eyes and helped him back to the bed, laying him down on it. Grabbing the towel off the table, she wet it and cleaned his hands, relieved he hadn’t told her off for her drunken behavior. She almost smiled, but refrained, knowing he’d probably question her over it. Still, she was pleased the tensions between them had eased.
“You can sleep next to me if you wish,” he said. “Just don’t touch me sexually.”
“Of course I won’t,” she replied, feeling a little annoyed he thought she would. “And why do you have such a complex, especially since your cock is constantly hard.”
He grimaced. “I don’t have sex with women.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re gay?”
“No, I’m celibate!”
She held her hands up. “Whoa, you don’t need to bite my head o
ff. Your wording confused me.”
He exhaled and wiped his face. “I’m sorry. Not eating for days has worn me out.”
“Then, go to sleep.”
He nodded and turned over, falling asleep within minutes.
Facing away from him, she lay down on the bed, her gaze fixing on the viewing-window. Nikita was standing behind it, watching her through the glass. “Do you know if I’m going to be set free?”
“It’s looking likely,” Nikita replied over the intercom. “Jagger has started to capitulate to my master’s demands.”
Although she felt sorry for her sister’s boyfriend, her relief was greater. “What about Sasha?”
“What about him?”
“Will the Black Russian ever let him go?”
Nikita shook his head. “Feed him, look after him, be nice to him, because once you leave the cell, he won’t ever know kindness again.”
7
ANDRIENA
Andriena woke to find Sasha lying next to her, staring at her mouth, looking like he wanted to devour it. Feeling self-conscious, she bit her bottom lip, making his gaze snap up to hers. A flush of red hit his cheeks. She smiled, no longer feeling self-conscious, his embarrassment amusing her. He scrunched up his nose, looking like he was going to tell her off for smiling. Or maybe he was going to fabricate an excuse for staring.
Before he could, she cut him off. “How long did I sleep for this time?” she asked, wanting to defuse the situation before he provoked an argument.
“Overnight,” he answered, glancing at the table. “They brought us breakfast.”
She didn’t move, more interested in looking at his stunning face, the dark rings under his eyes now gone. Not only that, her fear of him was weakening by the day, his peace offering more than making up for his nasty behavior.
Her eyes lowered to his lips, contemplating kissing them. Wanting to. Aching to. The man a temptation spread out before her. She just wasn’t sure how he’d react. He was giving off mixed signals, his aroused reactions contradicting his usually prudish behavior.
“There’s breakfast on the table,” he repeated, his voice growing harsher.
She raised her gaze, seeing tension behind his gray eyes. She couldn’t tell whether it was anger or an imprisoned desire.
“Stop staring at me,” he snapped, his tone answering her.
She rolled her eyes, thinking he had a nerve. “You are one contradictory man,” she said, pushing out of bed. Not waiting for a reply, she sat down at the table and picked up the brioche, more interested in eating than arguing.
“Stop!” Sasha barked.
She froze with the brioche a bite away.
He jumped out of bed and snatched it out of her hand. “We have to feed each other,” he said, dumping it on her plate.
“Why?”
“For the Black Russian’s amusement.”
She looked over at the viewing-window, not seeing the man, only Nikita watching them. “But he’s not here.”
“He doesn’t need to be. We’re being filmed.”
Her gaze snapped back to him. “I don’t see any cameras.”
“They’re in the light fixtures and the small holes in the wall.”
Andriena sat up straighter, looking at the holes in a new light. Before she’d thought they were just flaws, so hadn’t paid them any attention. But now, she could see they were all the same size, their uniformity without a doubt manmade.
“Do you think he’s been watching us the whole time?” she asked.
“I doubt it; the Black Russian’s a very busy man.”
“Then, why would he film us?”
“Just in case we do something interesting. He also sells the videos.”
Andriena’s eyes widened. “To who?”
“Voyeurs.”
Horrified, she pushed out of her seat and pointed at the bucket. “Were they filming while I went to the toilet?”
“Da. The cameras run twenty-four-seven.”
“Why? What sort of people would want to watch that?” Absolutely disgusted, she indicated to Nikita. “Even the guards look away when I go to the toilet.”
“Voyeurs should be the least of your worries.” Sasha breathed out. “And please don’t ask me questions if you think you won’t like the answers.”
“If you think I’m going to get upset, lie or don’t reply,” she spat, still reeling over being filmed. She found it incomprehensible that someone would want to watch her go to the toilet. Now, if she was having sex, she could understand people wanting to see that. She loved porn, was even addicted to it before she’d been sold, but to watch someone crapping or crawling around like an animal... That was just fucked up.
“I can’t always tell what’ll upset you,” Sasha replied.
She waved her hand about. “Well, obviously telling me that people are watching me piss and shit would upset me.”
Sasha started massaging his temples. “It isn’t obvious to me. I have Aspergers. It’s hard for me to empathize.”
Andriena stopped waving her hand about and sat back down at the table, his lack of social skills now making sense. “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling a bit guilty for going off at him.
“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not like I’m dying.” He dropped his hands and looked across at her. “Everyone has their issues.”
“I most certainly do. I used to be extremely intelligent.”
He pulled a face, looking like he didn’t believe her.
“It’s true. They said I was a genius when I was twelve.”
“Don’t make fun of me! What I told you isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not joking. When I was thirteen I almost died in a car crash. I literally had some of my brain scooped out. That’s why I have memory problems.” She paused for a moment, regret filling her mind. If she hadn’t accepted a lift home with her friend everything would’ve been different. For one thing, she knew she wouldn’t be here. Or even in this part of the world. She’d been offered a scholarship to study in America, with a promising future in medicine. Now, all she was offered was derision and no promise of a future at all.
She continued, “Do you know how hard it is going from being extremely intelligent to dumb just like that?”
“It would be horrible,” Sasha replied, no longer looking angry, his expression instead full of curiosity.
She nodded. “It was, and still is. People call me a ditz, a moron, stupid, airhead, birdbrain,” she emphasized the word he’d used, his derision having hurt her, “the list goes on.”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry for saying that.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Did you actually apologize to me?”
His grimace grew. “I’ve apologized once before, so don’t make a big deal about it or I’ll take it back.”
She smiled, amused by his embarrassed gruffness. “I much prefer you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Nice.”
“I’m far from nice, woman.”
“Can you stop calling me that?”
“It’s what you are.”
“But not who I am. Please call me Andriena.”
“Fine, Andriena.”
“Grazie, I mean, thank you.”
“You don’t have to translate for me.”
“Oh,” she said, remembering he knew Italian. “Looks like I should apologize too.”
“For what?”
“For saying those nasty words to you the other day.”
“I deserved them.”
Her smile resurfaced. “Well, maybe the part about your balls swiveling into raisins.”
He tensed.
“Ah... I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said, not understanding his upset reaction. “It was just a joke.”
He didn’t reply, still looking upset.
“You want to see my scars?” she asked, hoping to distract him.
His upset expression dropped, curiosity once again lighting his gray eyes. “What scars?”
; “The ones from the car accident.” She leaned her head down and parted her hair. “This is only one of many on my head. If I was bald, you’d think Freddy Krueger had attacked me.”
“Who?”
She let go of her hair and looked up. “The villain from A Nightmare on Elm Street.”
“I don’t know him, and what’s the nightmare thing?”
“A famous film.”
“The only films I was permitted to watch were educational ones or the videos the Black Russian produces, like what’s being filmed now.” He made a face. “I said the wrong thing again, didn’t I?”
“It’s not your fault,” she replied, surprised he was being so nice.
“Can we stop talking?” he said, shifting about in his seat, looking uncomfortable again. “I’d rather eat.”
She nodded. “Sure.”
She reached across the table and picked up his spoon, dipping it into the porridge in front of him. She scooped some up and held it out for him to eat. He closed his lips around the spoon, drawing her attention to his mouth again. He had the most sensual lips, full and nibble worthy, a real treat to look at.
He moved his head back, swallowing the porridge down. “You can move the spoon back,” he said, making her realize she was still holding it out, his lips having distracted her.
She retracted it, relieved he hadn’t snapped at her for staring again.
Ignoring the brioche, he leaned across the table and picked up her plastic fork, spearing some cubed fruit. He dipped it in the container of yogurt and held it out for her to eat. She wrapped her lips around the food and pulled it off the fork, amused he was doing the same thing as she had.
She swallowed the food down. “You can move the fork back,” she said, licking her lips to emphasize her point.
A blush hit his cheeks again, causing a thrill to race through her. She’d never understood why her sisters liked to tease men—to tempt them, to play with them—until now, this new found control she felt over Sasha empowering.
He dropped his hand and speared some more fruit, dipping it in the yogurt again. “I was just waiting for you to finish,” he said, lifting the fork back up.
Sasha & Andriena #1 (Lovers & Sinners) Page 6
