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He smacks my ass and I skitter back, putting several feet between us. “Is that a no then? Not a quickie or a romp? What would you call what we did?”
“Zhizn’ menyayet·sya.”
I have a feeling there’s depth to those words. Even though I don’t understand them, the shadows of possession cutting across the sharp angles of his face are universal.
I give a half shrug and let the sassy smile I’m feeling tease over my lips. “Potato patato,” I draw out in a way that gets him to turn that glorious body fully my way.
Steal my breath away.
I didn’t get to appreciate all the cut lines and hard muscle earlier. Well, there was one hard part I enjoyed a lot but yeah… the rest of the body is on par with what wet dreams are made of.
He prowls a step closer and then another.
Uh-oh.
I put the girth of the small, sunken pool between us. “So, what will you fishing me off the bottom of the ocean cost me, Maxim?” I put some sway to my hips and flash him a little of the goods as I walk backward. The breeze kicks up just at the right time and the hungry growl he gives is deep, guttural. No. It’s fucking primal.
The glide of his lips sliding into the devilish smile should scare the holy crap out of me, but it doesn’t. Maybe my brain isn’t wired correctly. But there’s no denying that parts of my body light with renewed heat which, to me, means only one thing—I have an unhealthy addiction to a man I can’t keep.
I slowly walk around the edge of the glowing pool and try to put more distance between us, but he’s not having it. Maxim’s gaze tracks my progress and I suddenly feel hunted by the notoriously dangerous Russian. And then he’s on me. A hand slips around my waist and the other tightens in my hair.
“You,” he growls and takes my mouth in a hard toe-curling kiss. “You are what I want.”
“Excuse me?” I breathlessly whisper when he tears his mouth away and continues his torturous consumption of my willpower down the side of my neck. When he reaches my collar bone and licks the warmth of his tongue over the delicate area I break and moan my pleasure for anyone to hear.
His head dips farther and he pulls the sides of my borrowed button-down shirt to the side to draw a nipple into his hot, hungry mouth. “Such responsive, pretty nipples. So fucking suckable.Youare my payment.” He growls around a mouth full of me and I won’t lie. I go completely freaking weak in the knees. I’m pretty sure a dandelion’s stem has more strength than me at the moment.
“I belong to no one.” I straighten my spine and pretend it’s made of steel instead of putty.
There goes that dark, almost menacing chuckle again. Like I’m cute in thinking I have a choice.
With a juicy pop, he releases my nipple, stands, and pushes me against the nearest wall, his hand a heated collar around my throat while the other slips between my legs.
Between us, I feel the hard length of his cock. I mean the slow-slung shorts do nothing to hide the impressive size, to begin with. My body thinks it’s go time for round three and the second he swirls a finger over my aching clit and tightens his hold on my throat I cream all over his hand.
“Good girl,” he purrs.
Whoa. The husk of his voice. The accent. He wields the combination like a weapon to disarm me.
He looms over me all taut muscle and looking like a gorgeous god. “You can fuck me a million times. I still won’t belong to you.” It takes a gargantuan amount of energy tonotride his finger when he slips it inside my velvety walls. And like a complete psycho I almost give in. I really do. But law school taught me how to hold out and he’s about to see the stubborn side of me.
I wrap my hand around his wrist and press his fingers deeper into my flesh until I can feel the bite of pain and the rush of adrenaline.
Using his other hand, his fingers start to tease and stroke all the while our gazes remain locked. The stubborn streak that has won me more than one case in the past starts to crack to reveal the softer woman beneath that tough exterior who just wants to feel and find peace in a world of chaos.
“Let me put it to you another way,malyshka. I return you to the people wanting to give you a watery grave or you can have the best time of your life in my bed. In return, you give me an heir.”
My brain might be battling through the fog of lust but I recall his earlier words of wanting to see me round with his child.
“You meant what you said? Earlier, I mean?”
He nods and his eyes turn to obsidian pools filled with the very sin and lust I crave to lose myself inside of. And hand to God, I grow wetter at the thought.
“Me? You want me?” I don’t believe in fairy tales. Serenity’s good fortune was a one-off. Right? How likely is it that two best friends can find happiness with mobsters? Ha. I’m not destined to find a happily ever after. Not like Serenity. There’s probably some old wives’ tale floating around that proves my point.
All that said, I’ve gone so long without knowing the touch of another. The desire to belong and be wanted is intoxicating. But if I do this and give in to his demand, I am just another piece of property to a man who already has everything.
Maxim releases the pressure around my neck but our gazes remained locked. Warm wind whips at the dark strands of his hair giving him a playful playboy vibe. But only briefly. The darker aura of his lifestyle breaks the spell and I see him for the Bratva man that he is. Behind him the black waters of the Atlantic glitter in the moonlight as if saying to me in the darkness there is light. But is it with him or am I suffering through wishful thinking here?
