The kiss is desperate, hungry, and she tastes so fucking sweet.
“Fuck,” I breathe against her lips. “Zara…”
“No one,” she pants between kisses, “has ever stood up for me like that. Not since my parents died.”
Her words hit me like a fucking bullet. Since her parents died. She was sixteen. For six goddamn years, my woman has been out there alone. No one standing between her and the world. No one losing their shit when someone got in her face. Noone willing to burn it all down for her. Six years of nobody giving a fuck.
My hands tighten on her hips. I want to find every person who ever let her down, every landlord who threatened eviction, every asshole customer at that diner who looked at her wrong, and put them in the fucking ground.
She’s kissing me like she means it. Like she wants to be here. And for the first time since this whole mess started, it doesn’t feel like I’m taking from her. It feels like she’s giving herself to me.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my mouth, and her voice cracks on the words.
I pull back to look at her. Really look. Her lips are swollen, her dark eyes shining. She’s so fucking beautiful it makes my chest hurt. And the way she’s looking at me… not like a prisoner staring at her captor. Not like a woman tolerating a monster’s touch. Like a wife looking at her husband.Fuck.
I cup her face, my thumbs brushing her cheekbones, and kiss her again. Slower. Tasting her. Memorizing this moment because something just shifted between us and we both fucking know it.
She rocks against me and I groan into her mouth, my hands sliding to grip her full hips, pulling her harder against my cock. She’s so warm, even through our clothes. Her soft belly pressing against me, her legs squeezing, her fingers scratching my scalp.
“Baby,” I groan, pulling back just enough to look at her.
Her eyes are dark with need when she reaches between us and palms my cock through my pants. Jesus Christ. My hips jerk into her hand, and she lets out a sultry moan, knowing exactly what she does to me. My innocent wife, jerking off her husband in the back of a car with zero shame.
I’m about to say fuck it and take her right here when I catch movement in the rearview mirror. My driver, Yuri, verydeliberately adjusting it to face the ceiling. In the passenger seat, my man, Kolya is staring out the window like the parking lot is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
Right. We’re parked outside a police station, with two of my men sitting in the car’s front. With only the partition between us.
“Not here,” I manage, even though it’s killing me. “At home.”
She chews on her bottom lip, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “Promise?”
I chuckle. My wife was just interrogated by the police as a potential witness for a crime I committed, and she’s asking me to promise I’ll fuck her later. I really am a lucky bastard. “I promise, wife.”
“Then take me home, husband,” she says, and settles back next to me.
But she keeps her hand on my thigh the entire ride, her thumb tracing small circles that make it impossible to think about anything except getting her naked and showing her exactly how grateful I am that she’s mine. All fucking mine.
10
Zara
We stumble through the door, and Nikolai’s barely got it shut before I’m pulling him toward the bedroom. I shove him on the bed, his handsome face with that rugged jaw and full lips making my stomach melt. My pulse is racing, nerves still present but mostly drowned by want, need, furious desire.
“Zara,” he growls.
I climb on him, my hands trembling as I slide them up his chest.
“Wanna take care of you,” I mutter, trying to sound sure, but my inexperience has me nervous as hell.
I start slow, tracing his shoulders through his suit, feeling the hard muscle under the fabric of his shirt. I fumble with his jacket, let it drop, then move to his shirt, popping the buttons one by one. My fingers are clumsy, but I’m determined to please my man. Then Nik’s chest comes bare… broad and tanned, with scars and tattoos, dark hair trailing down to his abs. I lean into brush my lips over a scar, tasting him, and he groans, his big hands flexing around my waist.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, and I grin, sliding my hands lower, feeling his muscles ripple.
I lick a tattoo and he shudders. His scent is flooding my nose, making me dizzy. I move to his neck, kissing slow, sucking, tasting his pulse, and he groans, his huge hands gripping my hips.
“Teasing me, huh?” he mutters, and I nod with a grin, dragging my nails down his chest, watching his muscles flex, loving how he reacts, my own body burning up.
I unbuckle his belt with shaking hands and tug his pants down, fumbling with the zipper. I get them off, and his thighs… thick, muscled, tanned skin soft over hard muscles… make my mouth water. His cock springs free, huge and veined, the head glistening, bobbing as he shifts, and I stare, breath catching, face burning.
