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“Was this because of me?” I asked, hoping to hear anything but the truth. Mikhail remained silent because we both knew it was. “Does that mean they know I’m in Miami?”
“They can’t know for certain; I made sure of that. But they must suspect because of your family ties here.”
I started to shake, realizing how easily it could have been different news that Mikhail got. That Ivan and his family might be dead because of me.
He pulled me close and rubbed my back to try to calm my tremors. “Don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe.”
“But my family isn’t,” I said against his chest. The tears I’d fought so valiantly began to well up again, but I blinked them away. Then pushed out of his embrace, as comforting as it was. That wasn’t what I needed right now. “They’re not going to be safe until I put a stop to the Novikoffs for good.” I looked up at him with all the ferocity I could muster. “And for that, I need internet access.
“Ah, Evelina,” he said, running a finger down my face. “You’re clearly worn out.”
“I’m fine,” I argued, but suddenly felt like I’d been hit by a bus. I had to swallow a huge yawn.
“It’s the middle of the night,” he told me, waving to the clock on his bedside table. Squinting, I saw he was right. It was almost two in the morning. I’d been working so hard that I lost track of time again. “A good night’s sleep will make you sharper.”
He was right about that too, and I expected him to push me out the door, but to my surprise, he led me over to his bed and pulled the covers back. The fluffy pillows looked enticing, but was he going to get in alongside me? I gave him a quizzical look, but the lure of the pure white sheets was too strong to ask silly questions. I got in and sighed, stretching my feet as far as they would go and wiggling my toes against the cool cotton.
He snickered and pulled the comforter over me, then shook his head and lay down on top of the blankets next to me.
“Oh, that’s very respectable,” I said, rolling onto my side to look at him, staring at the ceiling.
“Hush and go to sleep,” he grumbled.
But I wasn’t tired anymore, not with him lying shirtless next to me. He would have been far less enticing if he’d gotten under the covers where I couldn’t see his pecs, but then again, all I would have to do was reach over and touch him. I started to worm my way out, but he reached his arm over and slapped it down on the weighty comforter, preventing me from moving.
My top half, anyway. I slid my leg out and swung it across his knees, rolling with all my might until my head rested on his chest.
“Might as well let me be comfortable,” I said.
He laughed and gave in, whipping back the blanket and ducking under it. With a resigned sigh, he moved his arm around me, letting me get nice and close.
“Comfortable enough?” he asked.
I had a question of my own, namely, why was he being so nice to me? Like he said, I was in no danger on his compound. I wouldn’t have asked it for the world; just happy to be back in his arms. Of course, I knew I was courting more pain, but I’d always been one to live in the moment. I wriggled closer until my front was flush with his side and slipped my hand onto his flat stomach. I only meant to rest it there, but the hot, firm flesh made my fingers move on their own. I stroked up and down his hard abs, going a little higher to feel his chest hair under my palm, then sliding lower until I felt the waistband of his pants.
“What are you doing?” he asked softly.
Not angry, not gruff. I would have guessed I was lulling him to sleep if I hadn’t felt the tip of his erection against the edge of my thumb.
“Counting your abs,” I said, tipping my chin up to see if he was drifting off to sleep. “To see if you really have a six-pack.”
He snorted. Wide awake. Just like I was. My body was relaxed against his, but inside I was coiled and ready to strike. My skin almost crackled, like I was caught out in an electrical storm, waiting for him to touch me.
“You can see I have more like an eight-pack,” he said indignantly.
“Yeah, you look great.” I kept watching his face, warmed by his smile.
He finally looked down at me, and the smile faded as his eyes darkened. I let my hand wander lower, waiting for him to stop me when I kept moving down past his waistband over the thick bulge that strained the fabric. I swallowed hard, feeling like I was parched. Not for a drink, but what only he could give me. How many hours had it been since he took me to those heights? Far too long.
He didn’t stop me but tangled his fingers in my hair to tug my head further back. God, I loved when he did that. Loved how he took control. I ached for him and ground my body against his side as I gripped his throbbing cock. My lips parted as he leaned down to kiss me, his tongue tracing between them and making me moan.
“Touch me,” I pleaded between his kisses. I needed to feel his hands on my body before I burned up.
“Take your clothes off,” he replied.
I scrambled out from under the covers and stripped my sweatpants off, for once glad they were so huge that they slid off easily. He sat up and slid his own track pants down, and I moaned again at the sight of his cock nearly standing straight up. I slung my leg over to straddle him, pushing on his chest until he was lying down again. I smiled down at him as I rubbed my sensitive pussy against his iron shaft.
He grabbed my hips and held me still, his eyes going from my frustrated face to my shirt with a frown. “Take off your top so I can see your tits,” he said. “Then play with them for me.”
