Chapter 62
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Drago
Song- Look To Windward, Sleep Token.
It’s been a long as fuck morning in Inferno, going over details of the peace talk. Tatiana sent confirmation that the Preacher will be in attendance.
All I could think about was the fact that I could still taste Lily on my tongue from last night. And how wrong it felt sneaking out of her room and into my own before Lev woke up.
That’s the next truth reveal to come.
Locking my car, I sprint for the front door. Six men from each side will be allowed inside the church. All weapons are to be left at the door.
The rules outside of the talks? They don’t exist, which means we’re planning for every eventuality. Every double-cross. Every bullet that could come from the shadows.
That’s where Enzo comes in. He’s enlisted every mafia family he has ties with. Mikhail Volkov and his Vegas crew. Frankie with his New York men. Even Hunter Sterling and his cowboys from Arizona.
And as an added gift? Enzo’s own family.
No one really knows much about them. They rule Chicago under Xander, but they’ve got men in Italy, too. Pennsylvania will be a warzone in three days.
No one breathes in this city without us knowing.
And the tension is clear. An underlying fear sits just beneath the surface, because we all have something to lose now.
Wives. Families. Children. Friends.
We aren’t going after the Preacher for our own gain. It’s the opposite. We’re risking everything, including our lives, to stop this monster from trafficking more women and kids across the United States… and probably across the world.
We do bad things. We run arms. Drugs. We kill whoever gets in our way within our world. This empire was founded on blood. But not the blood of the innocent.
The Preacher stands for everything we despise. He’s hurt people we love. And now it’s on us to end it.
A few years ago, this would have excited me. Looking death in the eye and spitting in his face was a thrill.
Now?
Now I just want to race home to Lily and hold her, because I don’t know how many mornings I’ve got left.
We like to think we’re immortal. We aren’t. We’re fucking human. And I’ve used up just about all my free lives. This is the last war I will ever be involved in. I just need to survive it. I can almost taste my future.
My time might be running out, but I won’t let Lily see that.
Before this morning's meeting with the Quinns, I sent everything to my lawyer to draft my new will. Every single thing I own. My investments, businesses, and properties. All of it goes to Lily.
So even if I’m not here… she’ll still have a life without me.
The thought guts me.
I rub the back of my neck as I push open the front door.
Music drifts through the house. And I smile, heading straight for the kitchen, where I find her. I don’t speak at first. I don’t need to. I just watch.
The way she pouts when she’s concentrating. The way she moves so gracefully, even when she’s rummaging through drawers like she’s on a mission.
She makes my heart race just by existing.
She doesn’t look up, but her body stills. Like she senses me.
“Have you got a tape measure anywhere?” she asks, blowing her hair out of her face, still searching through cupboards like I’m not standing here starving for her.
“Yeah. Here.” I say, opening the drawer in the kitchen island and pulling it out. I hold it tight in my fist.
She turns to face me. “Why? Are you measuring up some art for the walls?” I ask.
Her eyes dip. Straight to my crotch. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her lips. “Something like that,” she mutters, stepping closer.
I lift my arm high above my head, keeping it out of reach. But she doesn’t go for the tape. Her fingers brush my belt instead, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“What are you doing, baby?” I ask, voice dropping.
I left Lev at Inferno with the guys. That buys me time. Plus, the alert I added to his tracker—if he so much as moves, my phone will light up.
I’m not taking any risks. And I want Lily every second I can get.
She licks her lips, dragging me back to the moment. “Have you ever measured your dick, Drago? Because it’s been bugging me for days.”
A laugh rips out of me. I catch her throat in my hand, towering over her, thumb pressing lightly at her pulse.
“Ten. Hard.” I murmur. “But feel free to confirm the validity of my statement yourself.”
Desire flashes across her eyes. Her pulse kicks against my palm.
And I know, right then, with brutal clarity…
This woman is going to be the death of me.
Or the reason I finally live.
I keep the tape measure held above my head for a second longer just to watch her fight the urge to jump for it. The way her eyes narrow. The way she sets her jaw like she’s about to win.
God, I love her.
“You’re enjoying this,” she mutters.
“Maybe,” I admit, letting my gaze drop down her body slowly. “Maybe I like seeing you hungry.”
Her cheeks turn pink, but she doesn’t look away.
She reaches again, and I finally drop my arm, placing the tape measure into her hand like I’m handing her a weapon.
Because I am.
Because she is.
Her fingers brush mine as she takes it, and my chest tightens with something that has nothing to do with desire.
“Mmmm. You’re wearing that cologne,” she whispers.
“I am. You sure that’s what you want, baby?”
She nods, batting her lashes. “Yes.”
This, her standing here, safe in my kitchen, music playing while the world outside sharpens its knives, is everything I’ve ever wanted and never allowed myself to have.
She clears her throat, suddenly serious with concentration. “Okay,” she says, like she’s about to conduct a scientific experiment. “Stay still.”
I bite back a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
She steps closer. Her scent hits me, so fucking sweet, and my control fractures at the edges.
I know I should be letting her do this. Letting her tease. Letting her play. But that isn’t who I am. I don’t give control away like this. And that isn’t the kind of man she needs me to be.
When she drops to her knees and unbuckles my belt, I slide the leather out of my jeans and wrap it around my fist.
Her eyes go wide, and she swallows hard. I tilt my head, watching her. Ready to devour her.
She pushes down my boxers, and the second her breath hits my dick, he’s already gone from half-ready to fully erect.
“You’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on, Drago.” She purrs, running her nails along my thighs, making every muscle in my body tense.
She lifts the tape measure. Her tongue peeks out between her lips for half a second while she tries to figure out where to… place it.
I watch her like a starving man. My hands flex at my sides, resisting the urge to touch her. To pull her into me. To remind myself she’s real.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur.
“I’m not,” she lies immediately, eyes narrowed at the tape like it’s betrayed her.
A low chuckle rolls out of me. “You’re brave, lastochka. You’re doing so fucking well,” I tease.
She swallows, then finally looks up at me with a glare that’s half heat, half challenge. “Shut up and let me measure.”
I lift my hands in surrender. “As you wish.”
She goes back to it, cheeks flushed now, the tape trembling slightly in her grasp. She’s trying so hard to be confident, but I can feel her nerves. Feel the way she’s playing with fire and loving it.
Anticipating the moment I finally snap.
She mutters numbers under her breath, concentrating like she’s cracking a code.
Then her eyes widen. Her lips part. And she slowly looks up at me like she’s offended by the laws of physics. “Drago…”
“Mm?” I tilt my head, enjoying the hell out of this.
“Ten inches. Well, actually just over ten. That…” She blows out a breath. “That goes inside me?”
I groan under my breath. “You take my dick perfectly, lastochka.”
“Read it again,” I murmur. “Just to be sure.”
She stands and turns around, so her back presses against me, and I can see the tape measure over her shoulders. Her finger is on the mark.
“I hate you,” she whispers, but there’s no hatred in it. Only heat.
“You don’t,” I correct softly. “Not even a little.”
My hands slide to her hips, anchoring her in place.
“You can keep measuring if you want,” I say, voice dropping. “But if you keep standing here with those thoughts in your head, I’m going to start making decisions for you.”
Her breath catches, and she glances down at the belt wrapped around my hand.
She freezes.
And I feel it—her body reacting before her mind catches up.
I tilt her chin back slightly with two fingers. “You want to push some boundaries with me?” I ask quietly.
The words hit the air like a match.
She swallows, throat bobbing beneath my touch. “What kind of boundaries?” she whispers.
I don’t answer immediately. Because the truth is, I want to push all of them. Lily has a lot of layers to tear back, but it’s all in her own time.
I want to take every inch she offers and worship her until she forgets her own name.
But that isn’t what this is about. Not really. This is about giving her something back.
Control. Choice. Power.
A future.
“I want to hear you say yes,” I murmur. “Not because you’re teasing. Not because you want to distract yourself. Because you want me.”
She turns her head just enough to look at me from the corner of her eye.
I start to stroke myself, eye contact never wavering.
“I want you,” she says.
My chest tightens like it physically can’t hold how much that means. “All your clothes off. Now.” I order.
She tosses the tape measure onto the floor and spins to face me. I reach out, grabbing her face and kissing the side of her jaw, gentle but possessive. Mine.
“Good,” I whisper. “Show me what’s mine, Lily.”
I want the last version of me she remembers to be this.
The man who held her steady. The man who gave her pleasure without fear. The man who made her feel chosen.
Slowly—so fucking painfully—she slips out of her little black dress and lets it fall to the floor.
Completely naked underneath.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
She gives me a slow twirl, hands gliding down her waist like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“You like what you see, Drago?”
I drag my palm down myself, swiping away the evidence of how badly I want her.
“Like?” I grunt. “Fucking love.”
She steps closer, lacing her arms around my neck, her body warm and soft against mine.
“What do you want to do to me, Drago?” she whispers.
Fuck.
The list is endless.
I wet my lips, forcing myself to breathe. To stay steady. To be the man she trusts. “Do you trust me, baby?” I ask, voice low.
“Yes. With my life.” She doesn’t even hesitate.
My chest tightens at that.
“Then you’ll give me a safeword,” I say, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “And I’ll push where I feel necessary. Is there anything you’d like to try?”
She bites her lip, nerves flickering behind her eyes.
I grip her face gently, grounding her. “Tell me.”
“Jet ski,” she blurts out.
A grin tugs at my mouth. I nod once. “Jet ski it is.”
“I-I don’t want to be blindfolded.”
Something deep in me aches, understanding instantly—no questions, no pressure.
“Then we won’t,” I promise. “I like you watching me anyway.”
She exhales, relief softening her expression into a small smile. “I’d like to be tied up…” she says quietly.
Interesting.
That’s not what I expected from her. Not yet. But I don’t let my surprise show.
“You say your safeword, or you say stop,” I tell her. “Either one, I end it. Immediately. Okay?” I pause, holding her gaze. “I’ve got you. I’ll read your body, but you’re in control.”
She nods, swallowing.
An idea sparks, something lighter. Something that makes this feel like play, not fear. Something that eases her into it.
I dip my mouth to her lips, a rough, hungry kiss that promises everything without taking it yet.
And then I pull back and grab the discarded clothes from the floor. Because if Lev comes home and sees that. It’s game over.
“Come with me,” I growl against her mouth.