Nikolai
It was when I glanced down and saw the dark smear of blood on my cock in the barely there light that I lost it.
It pushed me over the edge so hard I thought I might die in that moment, and I didn’t care.
I didn’t care about a single other thing than her and me in these woods, panting and pushing each other to an end that was like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
She’s still trembling beneath me, her breath hot against my throat, her legs locked around my hips like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
I don’t move.
Not yet.
I want to stay like this, buried inside her, the forest quiet around us, the air thick with sex and sweat and something I can’t name. Something dangerous. Something permanent.
Her heart thuds against my chest. Fast, frantic, alive, like a bird in a cage.
I press my mouth to her temple. She smells like earth and heat and the sweet tang of fear turned into something darker. Something needful.
“Breathe,” I murmur, brushing a hand down her side.
She shivers, but it isn’t from cold.
“I don’t even know your name,” she says softly, her voice raw from moaning, from gasping, from running for her life before I caught her. From whatever happened to put her in these woods to begin with.
I pull back just enough to see her face. She’s flushed and wild and fucking beautiful. A streak of dirt cuts across her cheek. Her lips are kiss-swollen. Her eyes are blown wide with the aftermath of what I just gave her.
“I’m Rachel,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.
I let the name settle on my tongue. It suits her. Not too delicate. Not too clean. Something about it feels like home.
“Nikolai.”
She blinks. Something shifts in her gaze. Recognition, maybe. The name means something to her, even if she doesn’t know why yet.
“Nikolai what?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.
I smirk, slow and lazy. “That’s enough for now.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I don’t let her. I press my thumb to her lower lip and slide it across the softness there. Her eyes flutter. She doesn’t pull away.
“You ran,” I say quietly. “You didn’t have to.”
“You told me to.”
“I didn’t think you’d listen.”
Her laugh is hoarse, unexpected. “I guess I’m full of surprises.”
“Hmm,” I murmur, curling a hand around the back of her neck. “You’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”
That silences her.
I pull out slowly, savoring the way her body clings to me, like even her muscles don’t want to let go. Her legs fall open. I rise to my feet and lift her with me. She wraps around me without protest, her arms around my neck, head resting against my shoulder.
She doesn’t ask where I’m taking her.
She doesn’t need to.
I carry her through the trees, past the gates, up the long path toward the estate. The house looms ahead, lit in warm pools of amber and gold. No alarms. No questions. Everyone here knows better than to question who I bring home.
Inside, I take her straight to my room. No hesitation. No detour.
She’s still quiet, eyes heavy. But as I set her down in the bedroom, I catch the faintest flicker of tension in her shoulders.
“Are you going to keep me here?” she asks.
I rise slowly. Look her in the eye.
“Yes.”
Her breath catches.
“Don’t be afraid of it,” I say softly. “You’ll understand soon enough.”
She’s looking at me like she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful.
I don’t want her to choose yet.
“Come,” I murmur, reaching for her hand. “You need to wash off the night.”
She follows me without a word, barefoot and silent. Her hand is small in mine, soft despite the scratches on her palms and the faint tremble still running through her limbs.
The ensuite bathroom is dimly lit, tiles warm beneath our feet. Steam immediately starts to curl from the rainfall showerhead as I twist the dial until the temperature is just right, the spray pounding against the marble like the drum of a slow storm.
She stands there blinking, disoriented, vulnerable.
And fuck me if that doesn’t make her even more beautiful.
“Lift your arms,” I say gently.
She hesitates for a second, then does as she’s told.
I peel the dress off her slowly, revealing inch after inch of flushed, perfect skin.
There’s a streak of dried blood on her thigh where she must have scraped herself in the woods.
Dirt clings to her calves and her knees and the palms of her hands are badly scraped.
The curve of her hip is already mottled with bruises from our earlier collision.
There are bruises on her knees, her forearms.
She is glorious.
Not polished or clean. Not posed like the women who are usually trying to tempt men like me.
She is wrecked and radiant.
She is mine.
I toss the dress aside and guide her into the shower, before stripping and stepping in behind her.
She gasps at the warmth, then sighs as the water pours down over her hair and shoulders. Her eyes close. I watch it all, the way her lashes clump together, the way the dirt runs in rivulets over her body and vanishes down the drain.
I reach for the soap.
My hands move slowly. Reverently. I smooth the lather over her back, her arms, down her spine. Her breathing deepens. She doesn’t move away. When I crouch behind her and begin carefully washing her legs, she rests one hand on my shoulder to keep steady.
There’s a long graze just above her knee, angry and red.
“This from the chase?” I ask, glancing up at her.
She shakes her head. “I jumped out of the car. Didn’t look first. Just...” She offers a shrug, her meaning clear. She didn’t have a choice .
“What happened?”
She laughs, low and tired. “I thought it was a rideshare. I was drunk and stupid and pissed that my friends had all disappeared on me. Again . They’re the ones who wanted to go out for my birthday. I was happy to go to a restaurant or something, but they insisted.”
My blood begins to boil. Her friends abandoning her, some creep making her feel scared enough to jump from a moving car. Then I made her run through the woods because I was bored.
“I’m glad you found me though,” she finally adds, tipping her head back and letting the water run over her face.
“Is that so,” I say, then rise to my feet.
I shift the water down to a lighter spray and help her turn so I can wash the front of her. Her chest lifts with each breath, nipples pebbled under the water. The soap glides across her skin, catching on the dips and curves I haven’t had nearly enough time to worship yet.
She is softness and heat and fire, wrapped in a body built for sin.
I don’t rush.
I smooth the suds over her stomach, her hips, the swell of her core. Her eyes meet mine, heavy with something I love the look of. Whatever it is, I think I might kill anyone who tries to take it from me.
“Do you know the man from the car?” I ask quietly.
She licks her lips. “No, and it was men , plural. Two of them.”
“Describe them to me.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “They were young, drinking, stupid. The car was the same make as that ride share company so I asked if they were there for us and got in. One of them had a scorpion tattoo on his neck.” She shudders.
My jaw clenches. “What were they planning to do?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “And I didn’t want to find out.”
“You got lucky.”
She meets my eyes again. “Did I?”
“Yes,” I say. “Very.”
My fingers move slower now, tracing the curve of her hip, up to the dip between her breasts, then the soft underside of her jaw. She’s looking at me like she wants to fall forward into something. Something reckless. Something warm.
She doesn’t know I’m the fire. Not yet.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmur.
She huffs a soft laugh. “I’m a mess.”
“Still beautiful.”
Her lips part like she’s about to argue again, but I silence her with a kiss. Not as rough as before. Not as demanding. This one is slower. More deliberate. It’s the kind of kiss that doesn’t ask, it tells .
When I pull back, she’s staring at me like I’m the only thing keeping her upright.
“You can sleep here,” I say. “I’ll ask one of the staff to bring you something to wear. And food.”
Her brow furrows. “Staff?”
“Or my sister-in-law, Clara.”
I brush a strand of wet hair off her cheek. “She doesn’t bite.”
Rachel raises an eyebrow. “But you do?”
I grin. “Only when I want to leave a mark.”
She blushes, and it shoots straight to my cock.
I guide her out of the shower and wrap her in a towel, pressing a kiss to her forehead before I leave the room.
She’s safe here. Safer than anywhere else.
Now it’s time to get to work.