Chapter 5
Natasha
The guest room was too clean, too warm, too inviting to pretend this was temporary.
The sheets smelled faintly like lavender and some deeper scent of a man who owned the space he walked through.
I don’t know how long he’s been out, but everything in this apartment seemed to be saturated by his essence. How was that possible?
I sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around myself, trying not to let the shivers show. A soft knock sounded. Before I could tell him to come in, he already had. Dmitri stepped inside, holding a folded piece of black fabric in one hand.
“Here,” he said simply.
I hesitated. “What is it?”
“My shirt.” He unfolded a dark, oversized long-sleeve shirt that would fall halfway down my thighs.
“I have my own clothes,” I whispered.
“You’re shaking.” His voice was a low reprimand. “Put it on. It’s soft. It’ll help.”
I should’ve said no and told him to leave. But the fabric looked warm, and my teeth were starting to chatter from the adrenaline crash. Plus, I needed to get out of this dress and heels.
“Want me to turn around?” he said.
I blinked. “Why?”
“So you can change without me seeing something you’re not ready for.”
My cheeks heated. I didn’t trust him with my heart—but oddly, I trusted him with my body.
“Or you can leave.” I pushed.
“I could. But I’ll be back so we can talk.”
“Fine. Turn around.”
Dmitri snickered and turned so that he couldn’t see me.
Slowly, I pulled off my dress with trembling hands.
Then slipped his shirt over my head. The longer length made it fit like a comfortable dress.
Not tight, but not super loose either. Of course it did.
He was built like he’d fought wars and won them.
His shirts had to go over broad shoulders, guns for arms, and that chest of his that kept inviting me in for another hug or worse–me lying on his chest.
“All done.”
When he turned back around, he was watching me with the kind of control that made my breath snag.
“Why are you so tense? Did you peek?” I asked, putting my hand on my hip.
“No, but I could see your shadow.” He hissed.
I looked forward and over to the right to see what he meant. Sure, he didn’t have all the details, but the outline of my body was obvious.
He approached the bed and lifted the covers with one hand. “Lie down.”
“I’m not a child.”
“Good,” he murmured, “because the way I’m looking at you isn’t child-safe.”
My breath caught. But he didn’t touch. Didn’t smirk. He simply waited. I climbed under the blankets, needing a barrier between us. He tucked the covers around my shoulders carefully—as if he was scared I might break.
“You’re safe,” he said quietly.
I didn’t respond.
He stepped back but didn’t leave.
“You going to stand there all night?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed.
“No, but if you want me to…”
I rolled my eyes, but the truth was him being there made the room feel less dark.
“Goodnight, Natasha.” His voice was more gentle than I’d ever heard it. “I’m right outside.”
He pulled the door close, leaving it cracked. I exhaled, needing space from him to clear my own thoughts. Today had been heavy, and I needed a break to gather myself to figure out how I was feeling. The accident happened suddenly.
The car that ran me off the road was a small black sports car.
It sped up when I got a few miles on to the highway.
First, they tried to cut me off, then they became aggressive.
Pushing me from the other lane until they rammed the side.
Over and over. When I hit the brakes, allowing them to speed by me, they cut me off, and waited for me to drive.
Each time I tried to switch lanes, it was the same thing.
That’s when the black SUV showed up. As well as police sirens.
It triggered the car in front of me to speed off, and I took the first available exit.
I was shook, but more determined to get through the situation.
The SUV wouldn’t go away, and that’s the reason that I called Cori.
I didn’t want to lead them to my apartment.
Truthfully, I knew Cori wasn’t the kind of man who would come to my rescue, but I knew he was with a man who would. Dmitri. I hoped they were still together, and thank goodness they were.
Replaying that through my mind didn’t lead me to answers. Instead, I had more questions. Lots of them. Then I remembered that Dmitri said he might know who it could be. Who? Why? Did he have past enemies looking for someone to hold over him? Was I a warning?
The question faded into my dreams. Sometime later—hours, maybe minutes—a nightmare ripped me awake.
One where a clothed figure shot me in my head while I was asleep.
I’d jumped up thinking that I was awake, but then I was back inside that damn car.
I shot upright, screaming, shaking, chest tight, breath clawing out in broken gasps.
I touched my head, my face, my chest. Was I alive?
Desperate cries erupted as I struggled to figure out fact from fiction.
The door burst open, and Dmitri crossed the room in three strides and then knelt beside the bed.
“Hey. Hey.” His hands hovered before settling on my shoulders. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Talk to me.”
It was the kindness in his voice that undid me. More tears spilled before I could stop them.
“I can’t.” My throat closed. “I saw the car again... I heard metal… I thought I was going to die!”
He pulled me into him without hesitation. Strong arms wrapped around my back, guiding my head to his chest. I sobbed into his shirt, inhaling his scent to ground me back into reality. His hand cupped the back of my head, thumb stroking slow, soothing circles.
“Breathe,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
I hated how much I melted into him. How safe he made me feel. How terrified I was of that feeling. But my body had already decided for me because I leaned into his warmth, gripping the front of his shirt with shaking fingers.
“You’re trembling,” he said softly.
“So are you.”
He paused. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice rough, “because someone tried to take you from me.”
I swallowed a sob. “You barely know me,” I whispered.
“You think seven years in a cell stopped me from remembering every fucking detail about you?”
My breath stilled. He pulled back just enough to see my face. His thumb brushed a tear off my cheek.
“Don’t cry alone,” he said.
“I’m not.”
He gave a slow nod—like my admission carved something open in him.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. And I knew.
I knew what was about to happen. I wanted him to.
Crazy as it was, I parted my lips, inviting him to kiss me.
Yearning for another sip of the brutal man holding me.
His lips had been the softest part of him that I’d experienced until today, and for all this time, I guess I craved more of it.
Now that he was right here, I couldn’t think of a single reason not to.
I nearly died today, and suddenly, I didn’t want to keep denying myself things that I wanted.
“I shouldn’t,” he said, voice torn. “You’re scared. You’re hurt. You should be resting.”
“Then don’t,” I whispered.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, guiding me forward with heartbreaking care. The first brush of his lips was soft like I remembered. Tentative. Shaking. What could he possibly be afraid of?
The second was not. The second was a claim—deep, heated, hungry—the kind of kiss that made the nightmare fade and the world go quiet.
The kind that made you want more of what was beginning.
It made you say, fuck it and dive right into the swirling current of Dmitri.
I kissed him back. I should have pulled away.
I should have told him this was a mistake.
Instead, my fingers curled into his collar and pulled him closer.
His breath hitched against my mouth—like he hadn’t expected me to want him too.
He kissed me harder, deeper, a low sound breaking from his chest as if he’d waited seven years for this exact moment.
I knew that was a lie, Dmitri was a woman’s man.
He could have whomever he wanted and had never been shy about that.
There was no way that I was anything special to him.
And that’s why I shouldn’t be doing this.
When he finally dragged his mouth from mine, his forehead pressed to mine, our breaths tangled.
“Natasha…” His voice was wrecked. “Tell me to stop.”
I couldn’t. I didn’t. However, my thoughts were getting louder, and I realized this wasn’t smart. I didn’t want to be another notch on his belt.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.
” He sighed. “I think I fell in love with you when I was fifteen.” He chuckled.
“Now, that I have you all alone, I can’t fucking remember the long list of things that I’ve wanted to do to you.
Right now, I can only think about kissing every inch of your body.
Fucking corny, right? But I need to know that you’re real and not another fucking fantasy I created.
Smelling every inch of you so that I can know that you’re alive and well.
I crave the sound of your cries while my face settles between your thighs to sample you for the first time.
Fuck, princess... I need you so damn bad. ”
I whispered my truth to him, already shivering as I thought about him carrying out every action he mentioned. “Don’t go.”
And that was the moment he came completely undone. I saw it in his eyes. Dmitri’s controlled demeanor slipped, and I’d been the reason why.
Little ole me.
His breath stuttered against my lips when I didn’t tell him to pull away. Something in him snapped—quietly, almost reverently—like a vow he’d been holding in his teeth finally gave way.
“Natasha…” His voice broke on my name. Then he kissed me again. Not tentative.
Not gentle. This one was deep, consuming, starving.
His hand slid from the back of my neck to my jaw, tilting my face exactly how he wanted it.
The other arm wrapped around my waist and hauled me into his chest, blanket and all, as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between us.
I gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like it belonged to him.
My fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him down onto the mattress without thinking. He followed willingly—no hesitation, no restraint—settling half over me, the heat of his body sinking into mine. I could feel the tremor in him.
He mumbled, “Seven years of wanting. Seven years of imagining. Seven years of obsession…” It all sharpened into a single point of contact—his mouth on mine.
Dmitri kissed me like a man who’d waited too long and finally couldn’t wait anymore. His lips moved to my cheek, my temple, the corner of my jaw. Each press was hungry but careful, like he was memorizing the parts of me he’d only pictured in his head.
“Please,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
Dmitri froze just long enough to look at me.
His eyes were dark, wild, terrified, relieved.
A low, rough sound tore out of him—half growl, half prayer.
He lowered himself fully onto the bed beside me and pulled me against him, dragging me over his body until I was tucked along his chest exactly where he wanted me.
His hand cupped the back of my thigh and guided it over his hip, fitting me against him like we’d done this a hundred times.
He surged forward and kissed me again—deeper, harder, thrillingly possessive—his hand sliding under the fabric of his own shirt as if it offended him that anything was between us.
His palm splayed warm across my waist, pulling me flush to him.
I exhaled a shaky breath into his mouth, and he answered with a low growl that vibrated through every inch of me.
Dmitri didn’t rush. He didn’t fumble. He kissed me like he was taking back years of lost time. His lips trailed down my throat, lingering at the pulse pounding there.
His breath was hot against my skin. Then he removed every stitch of clothing from us both.
I knew how wet I was. I knew I throbbed for him.
But seeing how hard his thick, long, and swollen dick was threw me for a loop.
He dripped for me. He was so hard that I wondered if it hurt.
My mouth watered, and Dmitri kneeled there watching me as if he knew that he was the only thing that would quench my thirst.
“Excuse me while I take in the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
My heart froze. No skips, thudding, or butterflies. It froze like a moment in time. I couldn't breathe, and if I moved, I feared this would all dissolve into dust. So I didn't. I remained still and hoped like hell that the heat between us was enough to keep us whole.