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He walked closer, ignoring the gasp she gave when she looked down, and then snatched her eyes away from his raging hard cock. “I despise being lied to, as much as I hate repeating myself.” He let his eyes drift to the phone and then back to her tense face. “What were you doing?”
She ran her hand through the curls still piled on top of her head. Did she ever let it down? “I’m tired, Sanyet. I just want something to drink and then I’ll go back to bed.”
He stepped out of her way. “Then by all means”, she took a step forward that would have brought her into closer contact with his erection. But her foot froze and hovered over the space before she put it down and stepped backward.
“Never mind. I think I’ll just go back to bed.”
“I agree.”
His hand snaked out and wrapped around hers. Causing her eyes to widen. “Wh… What are you doing?”
“I can’t sleep either. And I know just what I need.”
He swallowed down any protest she had when his mouth returned to hers like a homing pigeon returning to its master. Depending on what that transcript said, this night might be their last together. Would he be a widow in the morning? No, his body protested while his mind accepted the possibility. The Ismailovs did not tolerate traitors. Only his heart voiced no opinion. Remaining as cold and silent as it had for the last fifteen years.
Her lips were as heavenly as he remembered. More so because of the difficult decision that lay ahead. She was warm butter melting on cinnamon toast. Crisp and sweet. And he was hungry, so very hungry. Starving. He released her hands, and they flew to his head, grabbing his hair at the scalp and wrenching him closer. His tongue plunged deeper, taking what was his. Whether she lived or died beyond this moment, no man would ever have this piece of paradise. She was his. Why would she force him to take it away? Why couldn’t she be his? No games. No playing, no lies. No secret phone calls in the middle of the night.
Just be mine. And there it was, the voice of his heart. Speaking up after years of silence and it had one request. Keep this one woman as his. That’s all it wanted. After years of serving the Ismailovs in purgatory, had he not earned this one thing?
He pulled back and bit her plump pink lips. Sucking in her gasp as she tried to pull away and wipe the bite. But no. She wasn’t getting away. He’d planned to woo her. Use everything he’d learned about bird training to train her to his hand. But now there was no time for that. Not when his heart and his mind had found their way into opposite corners and prepared to fight. His heart was an old, retired fighter who rarely got back in the ring, but it prepared itself for battle by using its most powerful weapon. His body.
His hands grabbed the butt cheeks peeking from under her boy shorts. Caressing the soft skin. Wearing jeans, her ass looked like soft ripe pieces of fruit that would melt beneath his palms. Instead, they resisted his grasp. Strong and solid, just like her. It couldn’t be easy to stand up to him when he demanded answers. More than one person had crumbled with just the look in his eyes. Especially one who had seen his violence from mere feet away. But not Jessalyn. No, she was as much a liar as her body was. Looking soft and tender but he could feel the muscles bunching and flexing under his grasp. So he grasped harder. Bending her to his will. Sliding his lips down the side of her neck to find the pulse racing under her jugular vein. Would his hands be able to slice through that precious proof of life and end it? The two boxers had definite and opposite views on that. Only his body stood in the center of the ring, refereeing and keeping the focus on the main event. Claiming her.
He took her hand to lead her into the bedroom, but she pulled back. Their arms form a tug-of-war rope between them. “No Sanyet, you said we’d wait.”
“I said I wouldn’t force you. I would wait until your body asked for mine.” He arched his brow and looked down. Not needing words to describe her raisined nipples and panting breath. Beneath her golden-brown skin, apples blossomed in her cheeks as if he’d stirred the very fires of hell in her body.
“I didn’t… I don’t…”
“Damn you, woman,” he growled. “How many times will I have to warn you about lying to me, today? One time, a hundred times, or a million? If you can’t tell me the truth, then keep fucking silent.”
He pulled her again. “Sanyet I’m not… I told you… I’m not…”
“Fuck that.” he ditched her tugging hand and snatched her up into his arms. “Were you about to tell me you can’t come, again?” The fiery apples ripened. She looked down. “Tonight, I will show you how wrong you are.”
“How. We barely know each other.”
“We know what we want. It is enough. You are my wife. I am your husband. Tonight is our wedding night.” He dipped his head to kiss their foreheads together. Trying to rein in his impatience. How many birds had he trapped and trained with patience? It was the only equipment he really needed. He took another deep breath and lowered his voice and pitch, calming his dove. “And we want each other.”
Her eyes lifted to his. And he pulled back his face and let her see the truth of his words. He would not hide that, either. He wanted her in a way he hadn’t wanted anyone since… No, not since. Ever. The hell if he knew why. But something in her made the mangled beast of his heart want to give it one more try. And even though his brain protested, it as a fool. The beast knew what it wanted.
Sanyet carried her through the darkened hallway to his room. Setting her on the floor in front of his bed.
“You are wrong. I know a few things about you.” He stepped forward and took her tank top, grabbed both sides and ripped it down the middle. Ignoring her gasp as the two sides hung loosely along her breasts. “I know you are not afraid of me. If you were, you wouldn’t lie to my face.”
“I never…”
He put his finger to his lip and pressed at the center of the bow. Sealing the lie before it could escape. “Don’t make it worse for yourself. Keep silent if you can’t give me the truth.”
He nodded when she huffed and glared, but made no further protests. “I know you are as much of a killer as I am.” He arched his brow when she would have spoken. But she kept silent. “You sliced Petur’s throat. You did, not Hannah. Not Danyael. You took your weapon and used it to save your life and Hannah’s. But what a weapon. Do you know where it is?”
She shook her head. “I have it in my possession. A weapon fit for an Ismailov. It had to have been specially made. It is light enough to escape detection. I wondered how it made it past airport security. And then I realized. It’s not metal. Still, it took a special skill to sneak it aboard.”
Her eyes widened, but she again held her denials. Had she imagined that he was stupid? Maybe he was. “Rurik rushed to hire you. Thinking with his dick to keep his new wife happy.” He shook his head. “I thought he was crazy. Bespelled, and now I’m acting just as foolishly.”
“It’s only foolish if you keep me. I would never betray you.”
“Hmm, I’m not that big of a fool.” She rolled her eyes and turned her head. “You were highly recommended by the school, and we didn’t run the usual background check. Why would we suspect you? You had no connection to the Ismailovs or Hannah before we contacted you.”
