Chapter 33
It”s fucking cold out,but I ignore the howling wind ripping through the jacket of my suit as I step outside onto my balcony. I also ignore the dull ache in my shoulder as I swig from the bottle of vodka in my hand in an attempt to calm my racing nerves.
I”ve stared down the barrel of a gun countless times, but having Liza by my side amplified the fear to a whole new level. The thought of losing her because of my actions had my heart pounding relentlessly in my chest. Her life was at risk because of me. Dismissing my guard before driving her home was fucking stupid, all because I wanted to be alone with her.
Swallowing a final gulp of vodka, I debrief Pavel on the situation via text, attaching pictures of our would-be attackers” vehicle that I captured before we fled the scene. They had no ID on them, and there was nothing in their vehicle to indicate who they”re working for. Whoever sent them took pains to ensure they couldn”t be traced.
I”ll meet with Pavel in the morning. Whatever he wanted to share can wait another few hours. Hopefully, by the time we meet, our men will have some intelligence on tonight”s attack.
Running one of the most powerful syndicates on Russian soil, we have no lack of enemies. Still, an uneasy feeling churns in my gut. Not many people knew the time our ship loaded with cargo was scheduled to dock.
Would Anatoly leak this kind of information to the Zhukovs? Anything is possible, but why? What’s his motivation? Our partnership is mutually beneficial and making us all a fuck ton of money. Until I have proof that Anatoly”s loyalties lie elsewhere, I can”t make a move against him. Too much is at stake. But I”m watching him closely; one misstep, and I’ll take him down.
My professional restraint doesn”t apply to Liza. Anatoly forfeited any claim to her, the moment I saw that bruise on her. And I’m giving him a free pass for taking Sofiya out drinking with a bunch of his business cronies.
Stepping back inside my penthouse, I find Liza rummaging in the kitchen cupboard under my sink. “Looking for where I hide the bodies?”
She rises to her feet, smiling. “I was looking for your first-aid kit.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” I ask, concern flooding through me.
“I’m fine. It”s for you.” Her lips press into a thin line as her eyes land on my shoulder.
“Right, that.” I chuckle. “My first-aid kit is in the bathroom.”
I grab her hand and lead her towards my bedroom. As we step inside, curiosity lights up her features. She takes it all in—the stone fireplace, plush Persian rugs, and natural wood finishes.
“This isn’t what I expected.” She releases my hand to wander further into my space. “I pictured some sort of swinging bachelor pad, with mirrors on the ceiling. That kind of thing. But this is actually pretty cozy.”
“I’ll tell you a secret.” I lean against the doorframe and watch her with a half-smile. ”You”re the first woman to step foot in here, other than my housekeeper.”
She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“I have no reason to lie. This is my home; there was never anyone I wanted to invite into my space.” I drag a knuckle over my chin. “I’m not saying I’m a saint, but I do have boundaries.”
She flushes, and I can tell she likes the idea that I’m breaking new ground. That’s when she notices the book by my bed. She thumbs through the dog-eared pages of Jane Eyre. “You actually read this?”
“Front to back.” I straighten up. “I wanted to see what you found so compelling about it.”
She sets the book down and raises her eyebrows. “And?”
I shake my head and bring a rough palm to cup her face. “The truth is, I read it to get into your head. To try and figure you out.”
She licks her lips, unease flickering in her eyes as if she’s afraid I”ll uncover all her secrets. “Have you figured me out yet, Roman?”
“Far from it.” My hand slides from her cheek to the back of her neck. “But I want to know everything there is to know about you.”
She blinks up at me, her throat working hard to swallow. “We should deal with your shoulder.”
I lead her towards the ensuite, which is decidedly less cozy and more flashy. Marble countertops and a large, freestanding bathtub dominate the bathroom.
“Quite a tub,” she murmurs.
“Could easily fit the two of us,” I point out with a wink before I reach under the sink and pull out the first-aid kit.
Liza wags a finger at me. “You won’t be able to get this dressing wet. Now strip.”
I shrug innocently. “I’m going to need your help.”
She rolls her eyes, helping me take off my jacket. She then unbuttons my dress shirt and slips it off my shoulders, mindful of the wound. Her eyes linger on the expanse of my bare, tattooed chest. Heat creeps onto her cheeks as she drinks me in.
I grab her wrist and pull her towards me. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” I whisper against her lips. “Except, this time, you’re free to touch.”
“Tempting.” Her voice is teasing. “But I have work to do first.”
That doesn’t stop her from leaning in and capturing my mouth in a deep kiss that’s all kinds of magic. I’m ready to pull her down into my lap and ravage her mouth, but with a hand on my bare chest, she stops me.
“We have time for that,” she promises.
I shake my head in an attempt to come back down to earth while she rummages through the first-aid kit.
She studies my shoulder. “Looks like it”s just a graze.”
“How do you know how to do any of this?” I ask as she skillfully flushes the wound with saline before applying a disinfectant. “Your family’s not even bratva.”
She curls her lip. “Yeah, but my father got himself in trouble with the bratvas. His drinking and gambling addictions mean he came home plenty of time with wounds far worse than this.” She shakes her head, a frown overtaking her beautiful face. “You’d think he would have learned by now.”
“Addiction is addiction. It”s not easy to stop cold turkey.”
“True. And it”s not easy to stop when your wife insists on money coming into the household, no matter what. If my mother really wanted my father to get clean, she would have helped. Instead, she kept insisting that he gamble bigger to recoup his losses. Not that it ever worked.”
“And that”s why your parents need you to marry rich. To keep them afloat.” Bitterness crawls up my throat as I think about all the shit Liza”s family has put her through for their gain, never about what”s best for her and her life.
Her mouth tightens, and she doesn”t say anything for a while. “Families are complicated, but everything I do, I do for Sofiya. My parents made their own bed.”
The expression on her face tells me she”s reached the end of her patience when it comes to her parents.
I release a sharp breath as she dabs at my shoulder with disinfectant.
“Sorry, this part always hurts,” she murmurs.
“I like the pain,” I joke. “Do what you have to.”
“You need a few stitches,” she says, threading a needle with a steady hand. “Want a shot of vodka?”
“Nah, I had earlier. This won’t be my first time getting stitched up without anesthetics. Helps that the nurse is so hot.” I reach down and palm her ass.
She swats away my hand with a grin. “Behave.” She leans in, her hands steady as she pierces the skin near the wound and pulls the thread through with precision. “Who would attack you?” she asks, focusing on her task.
“I work for the most powerful syndicate in Russia. Take your pick.”
“There you go.” Liza focuses on tying off the final stitch. It’s adorable how seriously she undertakes the task, concentration etched in the furrow between her brows. When she finishes, she stands back and admires her handiwork. “Should heal nicely. You got lucky it was just a shard of glass.”
“We both got lucky.” I rise and pull her into me. “And now we’re both going to get really lucky.”
Her eyes darken as she picks up on my intent. I thought she might lose her nerve, but when she leans in and closes the gap between us, her kiss is hungry and insistent.
I grind my hips against hers, needing the friction. She feels too fucking good. But she would feel that much better if we were naked.
I pull away from her just long enough to drop my pants and kick my boxer briefs aside. Then my mouth is back on her as she runs her fingers over my taut chest and abs, pulling a deep groan from me. I need more.
“You look like a Goddess in red.” I strip the dress from her body.
She laughs and brings her mouth to mine in a slow, erotic kiss.
“Shit. What was that for?” I rasp. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Just ‘cause.”
I lift her, guiding her to perch on the edge of the marble sink. She widens her legs and I step forward, plunging my hand in her hair and pulling her mouth against mine. She makes a sound of need from deep in her throat, and I pull away in order to kiss and suck the delicate skin along the underside of her jaw. My straining cock presses against her pussy, holding there.
Just one thrust, and I’d sink into her wet heat. I’d be the first man inside of her, taking what belongs to me.
“Are you sure?” I breathe against her skin.
“Yes,” she gasps.
“Beg for it.”
Her eyes snap wide, and she looks at me like I’ve just spoken in tongues.
I rub the tip of my cock over the length of her slit, paying extra special attention to her clit.
She releases a wanton hiss. “Roman, please.”
“Please what?”
Her hand buries in my hair as she grabs a fistful and tugs. Fuck, that feels good.
“You know what I want,” she whines.
“In London, I said I wouldn’t fuck you until you begged me.” I suck her bottom lip into my mouth, grazing my teeth lightly over her delicate skin. “I meant it.”
She tips her hips forward, inviting me in. The movement causes the tip of my cock to brush over her clit repeatedly, and she shudders, her eyes closing in pleasure. Seeing how much she enjoys it, I do it again. Fisting my dick with one hand, I brush it through her folds, up and down over her slit, before rubbing it in circles over her clit.
“Jeee-sus! Fine, Roman. Please fuck me. I can’t wait any longer.”
I can’t either. Thank fuck that she came to her senses.
She shimmies forward, spread out so beautifully for me.
“Just because you asked like a good girl.” I give a shallow thrust between her legs.
Shit. My head rolls back because this feels way too good, way too quickly.
She cries out, her body stiff as she adjusts to my size. I capture her earlobe between my teeth, hoping the sensation cancels out the bite of pain in her core.
“Are you okay, milaya?” I rasp. My muscles are tense as I try to hold still for her.
Her nod is frantic. “Oh God, Roman. Is it supposed to feel this way? Like it’s too much?”
“Baby, it’s only the first few inches.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Deep breaths.” I hold still as my lips explore her neck, sucking and biting at her skin.
I’m by no means a small man, so I allow her to adjust to my size. But hell, it’s taking every ounce of willpower I possess to not press forward and impale her on my full length. Even though I’m only a few inches deep, my dick doesn’t care. He’s damn near ready to explode.
At my command, she fills her lungs with long steady breaths, her body slowly relaxing around me.
I kiss the corner of her mouth and drag my lips towards her ear. “I should put on a condom.”
She pulls back and looks in my eyes. “Are you clean?”
I nod. “I get tested regularly, and I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”
It’s the truth. I tried and failed.
The night Anatoly announced their wedding date, I showed up on Tanya’s doorstep and couldn’t bring myself to ring the bell. I stood there for way too many minutes, trying to talk myself into going in, before I realized that Liza had me in a chokehold I wasn’t going to escape anytime soon.
With arms around my neck, she pulls me forward and whispers in my ear, “Take me bare. I’m on birth control to regulate my periods.”
This is a bad idea, underlined in red with a thousand exclamation points behind it. Because once I fuck her raw and fill up her tight cunt with my seed, no other high will compare.
But will that stop me? Fuck no.
“I can’t say no to you.” My hand delves between us, and I give her clit slow, sure circles to soften the pinch of my invasion.
“Don’t hold back,” she murmurs against my skin.
I groan as she wraps her legs around me to pull me closer.
Damn. Liza may be inexperienced, but I sense a freak in the making. The thought is hot as hell.
I surge forward, giving her what she asked for by not treating her like a delicate flower. Trembling, I let out a hiss, the pleasure too intense to contain.
Her fingernails dig into my biceps, leaving little half-moons etched into my skin. I don’t mind. I want something to remember this moment by.
“I love my name on your lips.” I kiss down her throat, giving her short thrusts and sliding in a little deeper each time. “You can’t imagine how unbelievably good your pussy feels milking my cock.”
I kiss her like my life depends on it, relishing in her taste, in her surrender, as my thrusts grow more intense. As everything else fades away, I”m consumed by her and the primal needs she inspires in me.
She pulls back an inch. “Did I … did I bleed? I don’t want to look.”
“Don’t think about that right now. Focus on my lips and tongue.” I suck the soft skin of her neck into my mouth. “Focus on my fingers.” I cup one of her shapely breasts, and pinch her nipples. “Focus on my cock rocking in and out of you. How I’m the first man to claim you.”
And the last. But she’s not ready to hear that yet.