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Twenty
JESSIE
Walking through my apartment, I throw my purse straight onto the sofa and head to my bedroom. I should be exhausted. I usually am after a ten-hour shift, but my mind is racing and my body is sizzling with energy. As I lick my lips, I can still taste him on me and it makes the heat sear between my thighs.
I turn on the lamp on my nightstand and lie on my bed, taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart. I’d convinced myself that I’d never see any of the Ryan brothers ever again. And I made sure I covered my tracks well, or at least I thought I had. Maybe, subconsciously, I left a single breadcrumb for them to find.
Whatever it was, Conor has found me and I would bet my ass he's still sitting outside in his expensive car, watching, waiting to see if I’m going to run.
I’m tempted to go to the window and look out, but I daren’t because if I see him out there, looking up at this window, I might just run out of this apartment, jump back into his car and ask him to take me home.
As if I’ve been living in a dream world these past two months, the reality of my whole life suddenly hits me. Who was I kidding, thinking I could disappear from the face of the earth and live anything like a regular life? That’s not who I am.
I’ll admit it’s been kind of nice pretending to be completely normal for a while. But I’m not normal. I’m Jessica Romanov and I’ve been seeking revenge on the men responsible for slaughtering my family for the past ten years. And now I have an opportunity to exact my revenge on one of them, at least: Alexei Ivanov - the man who claims to be my biological father.
Whether he is or not, he killed my family. My beautiful, kind mom. The only father I have ever known, a man I respected and adored and who taught me everything I know, and my adorable little brothers. And not content with taking that family from me, he took the only other family I have ever felt a part of too, when he found me in New York and filled my head with lies. For a short while, I was Jessie Ryan, and I was as happy as I’d ever been in my life.
Alexei took it all from me and I won’t rest until he takes his dying breath. I told Conor that I’m not going back to New York with him and I wasn’t exactly lying when I said that. I’m still fooling myself that I can stay here a little longer and be Ryan, the brunette from the bar who can do five shots of whisky in a row and still dance the Chattahoochee, instead of Jessie, the red-headed hacker whose father is the psychopathic head of the Bratva.
Reaching over, I turn off the lamp. If Conor is outside watching, maybe that will make him leave, and I won’t have to think about him sitting out there alone in his car. I hope it will deter him from coming up here and knocking on my door, because if he does, I don’t think I have the strength to turn him away.
My body aches for him. I had closed that part of myself off, and less than an hour alone in his company and I’m burning up with longing and dripping wet for him. Damn those Ryan brothers and their fine asses.
I pull up my skirt and slip my hand inside my panties, spreading my legs wide as I circle two fingers over my swollen clit. My fingers glide easily over the slick bud of flesh. Closing my eyes, I imagine that it’s Conor’s fingers on me instead of my own. My orgasm builds quickly until I’m pushing my hips up to meet my hand. Using my other hand, I slide two fingers inside myself and the rush of warm wetness pools there. I recall the taste of Conor’s lips. His tongue in my mouth. How good his tongue feels on my pussy. How incredible he smells and how hard he fucks me. I move my fingers faster as I picture his face and pretend that he's in here with me, watching me come for him and waiting to claim me for his own.
When my climax tears through me a few moments later, I bite down on my lip to stop myself from crying out his name, even though I know he won’t hear me. I lie back against my pillow, breathless and wanting. Instead of relieving any tension, getting myself off has only made me want him more.
I need to remind myself that I came this far on my own. I don’t need Conor or his brothers. I don’t want any of it anymore. I am building a new life for myself, and the Ryans can’t be any part of it.
Chapter
Twenty-One
JESSIE
The following morning, I check outside as soon as I wake up and I’m both relieved and disappointed to find that Conor’s car is not outside. I eat breakfast and make some coffee and wonder if he left for New York or whether he’s still hanging around nearby. And if he has left, how the hell am I going to get to work today? I can’t even ask Cody for a ride as he’s on a late shift and he’ll sleep until at least noon. I should probably call a cab.
As I head to the bedroom to look for my cell phone, a knock at my front door stops me in my tracks.
I freeze. I never have visitors to my place, so this can only be one person. Turning on my heel, I walk over to answer it and see the unmistakable figure of Conor through the glass. Despite everything I said last night, my stomach flutters in excitement.
Opening the door, I am confronted by his six foot two frame dressed in jeans and another tightly fitted shirt, looking good enough to lick from head to toe. “I thought you were going home?”
He leans against my doorframe, his legs crossed at the ankle and his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve been looking for you every minute of every day for two months, Jessie. I’m not going home until you agree to come with me.”
“Well, you’d better get used to this Arizona heat, big guy,” I smile.
He narrows his eyes at me. “You ready?”
“Sure,” I shrug, grabbing my purse from the table and closing the door behind me. “I hope you’re going to pay for my car to get fixed?” I say as we walk across the road to his car.
“Why would I do that?” he grins at me. “I had nothing to do with that old rust-bucket refusing to start last night.”
“She is not a rust-bucket!” I snap. “And yes you did.”
He shakes his head and unlocks the doors, allowing us both to climb inside. Once we’re buckled up, he pulls away from the curbside and I turn the radio to a country music station, because I’m aware he hates it, but he doesn’t change it back. I sing along — badly — as we drive along the highway.
The AC is on full blast, but despite that, a bead of sweat trickles down my spine. Being so close to him, confined in such a small space, is maddening. I glance sideways at him and remember how I almost jumped his bones last night. How good it felt to have his hard cock rubbing against my pussy as I straddled him. He clears his throat and I wonder if he’s thinking about it too. I glance down at his huge thighs encased in his jeans, almost busting out of the denim as his muscles stretch the fabric taut. Damn. No man has any right to be so freaking fine.
