Chapter 9
LEO
My body stretched instinctively as I drifted awake, muscles loosening as a soft groan slipped out of me. Something warm and solid was pressed against my cheek, and without thinking, I shifted closer, nuzzling into it the way I had done a thousand mornings before.
God, this feels good.
An arm was draped loosely beneath me, broad and steady, the rise and fall of breathing slow and even under my cheek. My lips curved into a faint smile as I stretched again, pressing closer to the warmth and inhaling deeply.
When was the last time we woke up like this and not on either side of the bed? I used to regret us upgrading to a king-size, which gave us way too much space to have sides with clear lines of demarcation.
“Brad,” I murmured, nuzzling my husband and burrowing closer.
Slowly, I opened my eyes, disoriented from the view of a jaw that was too square, a skin that was too tan, a smell that was too musky to be Brad.
It was all wrong.
My entire body went rigid.
Sergei was lying beneath me.
For a moment, I stared at him, my brain refusing to process what I saw. His chest was bare beneath my cheek, broad and solid, one arm stretched loosely along the mattress beside me while the other rested on my thigh, which was thrown over his legs.
Sergei.
The name blared through my mind like a warning siren. Memories flooded back all at once, and my stomach dropped.
The crash.
Him pulling me from the wreck.
The way he had carried me into this house like I weighed nothing.
And the kiss.
My pulse kicked up sharply as I remembered too clearly the moment he’d leaned forward and shut me up with his mouth before I could finish telling him how much I despised him. The surprise of it had frozen me long enough for him to take advantage. And then…I had kissed him back.
I felt my stomach drop as the images replayed in my head with disgusting clarity. Sergei’s massive body pressed over mine, his hands gripping my waist. The way his breathing had changed the moment I pulled him down harder against me.
The shock of it.
The heat.
The way he had completely unraveled in my arms.
Sergei—the terrifying enforcer who could probably break a man in half without blinking—had turned into something entirely different beneath my hands. His control had vanished, and for those few moments, he hadn’t looked dangerous at all. He had looked…needy. Almost submissive.
The realization struck me in the middle of the kiss, sharp and electric, and something in my brain had clicked the moment I understood what I was seeing.
Sergei, the same man who could terrify a room simply by walking into it, had completely unraveled beneath my hands.
The control he wore like armor had slipped the second I pushed back and took charge of the moment.
My fingers curled slightly into the sheets as I remembered the power of it. Of how that moment was the first time since he started stalking me that I hadn’t been afraid of him. That I had had the upper hand.
His hips had jerked helplessly against me when I tightened my grip on him, and his breath had hitched when I’d pulled him closer. He hadn’t been pretending about his feelings. He’d wanted me, and desperately too. So desperately, he hadn’t even had the chance to remove his clothes.
The sounds he’d made when he came echoed in my mind. Something so insignificant should have been forgotten, yet my brain recorded his needy moans and broken cries, which now played back in my mind with alarming accuracy.
At the end of it all, with his face buried in my neck and my heart beating out of my chest, I’d clung to the moment, afraid of it disappearing and our roles returning to what they usually were.
Me, afraid of him and him being overbearing.
So I’d asked him to stay with me, and he had, though the reason I’d told him was far from the truth.
Well, not quite. It was true I found it difficult to sleep with no one next to me.
But that hadn’t been the real reason.
I had been curious to see if Sergei would do what I asked. Would a man like him, so dangerous and disciplined, climb into my bed with his underwear full of cum simply because I’d asked?
He had.
My gaze drifted over his sleeping form again. Last night, this cold-blooded killer looked at me like I held some kind of power over him. It was the first time since Brad’s death I’d felt anything outside of grief, pain, and hurt.
Slowly, I traced the outline of his huge pecs with my index finger. His breath hitched, and I knew the exact second he woke up. His heart skipped a beat beneath my touch, then sped up, the familiar rhythm doctors loved to hear, racing beneath my ear.
I do that to him.
I make his heart beat faster.
Tilting my head to search his face, I was jolted to find him staring back at me.
His eyes were a beautiful, mossy green in the early morning, startling against the roughness of his face, like a lush meadow trapped behind his lashes.
For a second, I forgot I was supposed to be using my newfound understanding to navigate our situation better.
“How’s your head?” Sergei asked, voice gravelly from sleep. With his already deep baritone, it sounded like a man coaxing you into his bed.
And it works.
“Fine. It feels a lot better.”
“What’s your name?” He stroked my bare leg that was thrown over him, and I lost my train of thought.
“You don’t remember?” He shifted to prop himself up on his elbow, his full face now coming into view.
“I remember. It’s Leo. You don’t need to ask the questions anymore.”
“Humor me. One last time.”
“Fine.”
We went through the questions, and I answered without hesitation, which was damn impressive given the sparks spreading through my body from where his hand caressed me absentmindedly. He was way too comfortable with me half on top of him, as if we had done this before.
“I told you I’m fine,” I ended, staring at his shoulder boasting an eagle tattoo, at his stubbly chin—anywhere but at him.
He raised his hand and cupped my cheek, raising my head so I had no option but to look at him—at the way he frowned deeply with disapproval. “I am not sure whether I can believe you. You take care of patients yet neglect yourself.”
“What right do you have to criticize me? You have no idea what I’ve been through lately.”
“Yeah, I know. You lost your husband.” I stiffened at his tone, as though he barely refrained from asking, what was special about him anyway? “But you’re still alive.”
“I didn’t just lose my husband. He was brutally murdered. By you and your kind.”
Which begged the question of what the fuck I was doing in bed with him. But maybe that was exactly the place I needed to be. How else could I get close to him?
“I don’t mean to be cruel, Leo, but we can’t undo the past.” He tugged his arm from beneath me and rolled over to the edge of the bed to sit up. A broad hand scrubbed at his face, and he groaned, stretching, causing the muscles in his back to do this hypnotic dance I couldn’t look away from.
“Need to wash up.” He rose to his feet, and I didn’t miss the grimace on his face. He was probably regretting not cleaning up last night. “I might be awhile.”
The bathroom door closed with a quiet thud behind Sergei. I slumped against the pillow, sheet clutched to my chest. Worrying my bottom lip with my teeth, I took deep, even breaths to control my heart rate.
I’d done it. Last night I’d slept in the same bed with Sergei and had woken up in his arms. I didn’t even know his last name, though Sergei the Husband Killer worked just fine.
Oh God, I can’t breathe.
I swallowed hard and gasped for air as the sick feeling of betrayal almost made me puke. I was doing the right thing. Wasn’t I? Brad would forgive me. He would understand that I was doing this for him.
But you got pleasure from it, didn’t you?
I reduced the guilt by reminding myself that I was a doctor who knew well enough how the body worked.
I had two working eyes and could see quite well that Sergei was a good-looking man.
An aura that was second to none, probably harnessed through the dead bodies he was responsible for, clung to him even when he was being imposing.
As a gay man, attracted to his type, it was natural that when he kissed me, I got hard.
That didn’t mean I wanted him. Just that my dick thought he felt good against me and that he was a damn good kisser. Far gentler than I would have thought.
The steady rush of water filled the bathroom, a constant white noise behind the closed door. For several agonizing minutes, I remained exactly where I was, staring at it as if the sound alone might explain what I was supposed to do next.
It didn’t.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the cool hardwood floor grounding me as I crossed the room.
My pulse began to climb again, that same restless energy simmering beneath my ribs that I had felt the night before when everything between Sergei and me had tipped into dangerous, unfamiliar territory.
Except this time, the feeling wasn’t panic because what I was about to do would happen only because I let it.
I stopped at the night table and pulled open the top drawer.
The box of condoms sat where it always had, tucked neatly in the back corner beside the small bottle of lubricant.
My gaze lingered on them for a moment longer than necessary.
The last time I’d used them was a few days before Brad died, when I’d asked him to pick up dinner, and he’d brought home a different kind of feast. The kind where I had both him and another guy side by side while I fucked them both.
In the moment, it was fun. Afterward, I felt empty.
This is no different from then.
I was already good at just sex.
Before I could overthink the decision, I grabbed both items and closed the drawer again.
My grip tightened around them as I crossed the bedroom and pushed open the bathroom door.
Warm steam rolled out immediately, dampening the front of my shirt.
The shower had already filled the room with heat, the glass enclosure clouded enough that it hid the figure inside it, though not entirely.
Sergei stood beneath the spray of water, broad shoulders bowed slightly forward as the stream poured over him.
Water tracked down the powerful slope of his back, catching in the ridges of muscle along his spine before disappearing lower.
One of his hands braced against the tiled wall, fingers splayed wide for balance.
The other—
I stopped short.
The shower was running, but Sergei wasn’t washing. His head tipped forward, dark hair plastered to his forehead as his other hand moved slowly along his cock. What was he thinking about while masturbating in my shower? Me?
A thrill ran down my spine. For a moment, I simply stood there, frozen by the sight of him. Then my heartbeat thudded harder in my chest. He’d already set the scene for me. How hard was it to bend him over now and give him something that he wouldn’t soon forget?
Not to toot my own horn, but I had more experience than most and nary a complaint to be found in the mix.
I quickly shrugged off my clothes, then stepped forward to pull the shower door open.
The glass slid aside with a soft scrape.
Sergei’s head jerked up immediately. Water ran down his face as his eyes snapped to mine, the green of them startling even through the haze of steam.
His gaze flicked over me quickly before dropping to my hands, to the condom and the lube.
A low, involuntary sound tore out of his throat. I felt the shift instantly. The moment he understood what I was offering.
My nerves vibrated under my skin, but outwardly I kept my expression calm, forcing my breathing to stay slow and controlled as I stepped fully into the shower.
“You can finish all by yourself,” I said evenly, the words sounding steadier than I felt, “or you can let me.”
The water ran down both of us as the silence stretched out. For a long second, Sergei didn’t move. His chest rose and fell beneath the spray, droplets clinging to the dark hair scattered across it before sliding down his stomach.
“What are you saying, Leo? You want to fuck me?”