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Liya is what I need right now.
And I can’t deny it any longer.
When I reach Liya, I flip her around, stealing her lips, tasting the way her shocked moan reverberates in my mouth. She stiffens initially, hands rising to rest on my chest. She doesn’t push, but she doesn’t quite relax either, lips quivering as I plunge my tongue into her mouth repeatedly. I can’t help myself. She tastes sogood.
My hands roam her hips, playing with the waistband of her jeans. As my thumbs slide beneath the fabric, she shudders, arching into me and dropping her hands. Little by little, her muscles slacken, her jaw relaxes, her lips part.
She whimpers as she returns the kiss. Light at first, but then hungry, almost as starved as I feel. She hugs my shoulders and bucks into me, breath laboring the closer I move to her zipper. Her chest swells with excitement. A soft sigh turns into a shuddering mewl. I smirk as I stroke her panties and discover the wetness there.
Then she lets me in.
She struggles to slide her jeans down, urging me to help with incoherent whimpers. While I work away her pants, she strips my blazer off, fumbling with the buttons of my shirt next. Our clothes drift to the ground, forgotten and useless. I hoist her legs over my hips and pierce her, pausing to feel the way her pussy quivers around my cock.
And just like that, she has me.
It’s astounding the spell she puts on me when she’s with me. Around anyone else, I’m as cold as I am ruthless, a man built from sheer resilience and determination.
But with Liya?
My walls drop. My edges soften. She opens me up in ways I don’t dare acknowledge.
Especially when she takes every inch of my cock like she is now.
She starts to beg, “Pavel,please…” But I kiss her roughly, swallowing whatever she’s about to plead.
It doesn’t matter. She’s wet and pliant, open to me. Her legs tighten around me as I thrust earnestly, absorbed by her scent, her whimpers, hersoftness.
Whatever her request, I already know.
Because it’s what I want too.
Her breasts plump against my chest as I pin her to the door, the wood rattling in the frame with the force of my thrusts. She squeaks when I tilt her hips toward me and drag my lips to her neck, shoulder, chest. Her fingers tangle into my hair as she nudges me into her breasts.
I come undone in every way possible. As I nuzzle her tits, I feel her quiver, the layers of her resolve shedding as she bucks eagerly. I wait for her shivers to subside before I empty myself inside her, a primal grunt signaling my end.
It’s her—she’smy end.
She might be my beginning, too.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Liya
Greenwich Village explodes around me as I nurse a mimosa on the patio of Momo’s. The people around here are spirited and friendly, wearing the latest bohemian fashion trends while reading from their tablets or chatting with friends over drinks. It feels weird sitting alone with my thoughts like this, knowing that guards are just around the corner.
Gennadiy practically had a heart attack when I told him to give me more space, I think as I sip my drink. I stare at the untouched pastries in front of me.I just don’t want to give Willow a heart attack either.
Speaking of heart attacks, I haven’t told Pavel a damn thing about my med school application or my brother’s hot new fling.
Then again, we haven’t had the time to talk. Between his men getting snatched up by the NYPD and our relationship straining with more unspoken tension than ever, it hasn’t been the right time to drop either of those topics into his lap.
Especially not when I’m busy lapping up every ounce of attention from him like an abandoned pet.
Willow rounds the corner of the patio and beams, breaking my thoughts. I set my drink down and plaster a smile on my face as I hug her.
She squeezes me tightly and accuses, “That’s your customer service smile.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not.” But we both know I’m bullshitting here.
