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“Lie down, baby.” I grab her behind her knees and pull her closer, placing her feet at the edge of the table. She watches me through her spread legs, a tiny smirk lighting up her face.
“I’m waiting,” she says.
I smile and take a step closer, letting just the tip of my cock find its home, and press my thumb over her clit. She sucks in a breath. I rub small circles on her nub, teasing her, then slowly push further in as I increase the pressure with my thumb. Before I’m even fully inside, her body starts trembling. My cock hurts because of how hard it is, but I keep up my slow movements, watching her body arch off the table and reveling in each sound of pleasure she makes. With one last circle on her clit, I take her ankles and slowly straighten her legs to a perfect V. I pound into her, narrowing and widening her legs with every thrust and retreat.
“Harder!” she yells.
I rest her calves on my shoulders, press her knees together, and slam back inside. She orgasms, screaming out her pleasure while tremors shake her body. I can feel her pussy spasm around my cock, and it sends a jolt up my spine. I roar and explode into her.
* * *
I stroke the length of Asya’s hair, then leisurely run my palm up and down her back. She’s been sleeping on top of me for two hours now. I should try getting some sleep, too. I spent the previous night chasing and, once I caught him, beating the shit out of the motherfucker who hurt my girl. But I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Asya as she pulled that trigger.
It feels as if a countdown has begun with that bullet. The man who tore apart her life is gone. Roman assured me that the rest of the organization will be dealt with, so I’m sure they will all be dead by this time tomorrow.
I look down at Asya’s face resting on the center of my chest. She usually tosses and turns in her sleep, but she hasn’t moved a muscle since falling asleep earlier. I tug on the blanket at her hips and cover her fully.
How much time do we have left? She’s been doing much better these past few weeks, and I very rarely need to help her with decisions anymore. Men in suits still make her uncomfortable, but she’s come a long way toward overcoming that, too. The nightmares have stopped, and the only thing that still distresses her is snow. I’m so fucking proud of her.
As good as her progress is, it fuels the utter panic rising within me. Will today be the day she’ll tell me it’s time for her to leave? Or will it be tomorrow? It’s been weeks since I stopped urging her to contact her brother. I convinced myself that I did it to give her time and space to heal, but I’ve been lying to myself. I did it because I want her to stay. Forever.
As I watch her sleeping form, her presence lessens the gaping hole inside my chest, but the sound of a ticking clock echoes through my mind. Counting down the days, or maybe mere hours, I have left with her.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Chapter 18
“Are you sure, Asya?” I ask as I hold the car door open for her.
“Nope.” She takes my hand and exits the car “But I need to do it anyway.”
“Okay, baby.”
With Asya’s hand clasped in mine, I head toward the back entrance of Ural. I still don’t think it’s a good idea to come to the club during the hours it’s open to the public. It’s not the same as going to the mall. Here, there will be more people in a smaller space, all crammed together. And since Ural is a more upscale place, most of the clubgoers will be wearing classy clothes, including suits on men. I know she needs to face her fears, but I don’t like the idea of her getting stressed for any reason. I want to shield her from harm. But Asya has been insisting for two weeks, so I finally caved.
We leave our jackets at the coat check and enter the main space. There are already more than a hundred people inside. Asya wraps her arm around my forearm and leans into my side, but she doesn’t falter as we head around the dance floor toward the opposite corner, bringing us near the stairs that lead to the upper level. I told the staff to remove the tables from that spot. We’re halfway to our destination when a man waves at me from one of the VIP booths and then heads in our direction. Damian Rossi. The Chicago don’s brother. He navigates through the crowd and meets us near the stairway.
“Pavel, I’ve been looking for you. How does renting this place for a night work?” He grins and looks over at Asya, offering her his hand. “I’m Damian.”
“Hi,” she says quietly but doesn’t make a move to shake his hand.
I’m barely containing my urge to tell the Italian to go to hell, but Asya seems fine. I don’t want her to think I doubt her ability to deal with the situation. She said she can handle it and, unless I notice distress, I won’t interfere.
“Rentals are limited to the Bratva members only,” I say. “What’s the occasion?”
“Oh, nothing special. Some friends and I would like to throw a party, and we’re looking for a venue.” He shrugs, then turns back at Asya and his smile widens. “Would you like to come,bellissima? I didn’t get your name.”
Asya’s hold on my forearm tightens.
“Leave, Damian,” I say in a curt tone.
“What? I was just—”
I grab the front of his shirt and shove my face in his. “Turn around and leave. Right fucking now.” I snarl through my teeth.
He blinks at me in confusion and raises his hands. “Okay, man. No need for a spat, especially in front of a lady.”
