Chapter 14 – Ilya
The car’s cabin was silent on the drive back to the mansion, except for the wipers, which dragged hard across the windshield, and the low hum of the engine.
Iris sat in the passenger seat, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her head resting against the glass. She hadn’t looked at me since I’d gotten her into the car.
I kept my eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel, gripping harder than I needed to.
My pulse still hadn’t leveled out, and my heart hadn’t stopped racing from the fear of almost losing her.
I locked my jaw, my grip tightening around the steering wheel as I thought about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t tackled her out of the way on time.
She would’ve been pinned to that tree—she would’ve died on the spot, and there would’ve been nothing I could’ve done to save her. Tonight made me realize how much I actually cared about her because I hadn’t been this scared in a long time.
Perhaps I should’ve handled the situation better back there, considering that she’d come face-to-face with death and survived. I should’ve checked whether she was hurt instead of yelling at her.
Before now, I never needed to yell; I was never moved enough to raise my voice at anyone. I had my own ways of dealing with situations without getting emotional.
However, tonight, I’d thrown all that discipline out the window and let my emotions take control. Never again. In my defense, though, the fear of losing her had triggered something I’d buried long ago.
Her voice echoed in my head, “Living with you in that house is torture, Ilya!”
“…I’d rather die at the hands of your Bratva brothers than live with you and risk forgetting who I am.”
Those words stung like a nasty bee, painful enough to leave me speechless.
I’d killed more men than I could count and fought more brutal wars than most people in the world. Yet none of them had hurt as much as this.
She shivered beside me, arms tightening around herself.
I reached over and turned the heat up without a word.
She didn’t thank me. Didn’t look at me either. Just kept staring out at the rain streaking sideways across the glass, jaw locked.
Neither of us said anything the rest of the way back.
I’d mentioned the idea of marriage to her, and she still hadn’t responded. However, I knew this conversation was far from over. And I promised myself not to lose control and yell at her again.
We returned to the estate, and I pulled up beside the fountain. She opened the door and stormed out into the rain, her kitten scurrying behind her. She was already walking into the building when I stepped out of the vehicle.
It was clear she didn’t want to speak with me for now, so I let her be. She needed time to process everything that had just happened anyway.
Once inside, I headed to my bedroom and took a warm shower.
Under the running water, I noticed a cut across my forearm, a thin line where one of the spikes had grazed me during the fall. I didn’t even realize I was hurt until now.
I rinsed the mud and dirt off, cleaned the cut as best I could, and stayed under the water longer than usual, letting it ease some of the tension still sitting in my shoulders.
When I was done, I dried off and changed into fresh sweatpants and a clean black singlet, then headed straight for her room.
The plan had been to give her some space and let her think, but fuck it. I needed to speak with her now.
I knocked once on her door before walking in and closing it behind me. She was straight out of the shower, a clean white towel wrapped around her. Her hair was damp, strands sticking to her face as her skin glistened in the soft light.
She paused in her tracks when she saw me; her breath hitched as my sudden presence startled her.
“You seriously need to stop creeping up on me,” she said, a faint scowl settling on her face.
“How are you?” I asked, recalling how we’d both tumbled down that slope.
“Like you care.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” I answered. “Neither would you.”
A pause.
“You want a medal for saving my life, is that it?” Her sass and defiance couldn’t be more obvious. “Well, newsflash, I didn’t ask you to do that.”
I rubbed my forehead, reminding myself that I must remain in control. “Why are you being so difficult?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t gotten over everything that’s happened yet, and now you’re talking about marriage like it’s the magical solution we all need!” Her voice cracked on the last word, sharp enough to echo off the walls.
I picked up my pace—slow and deliberate. “I know how you feel…”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She shook her head. “Trust me, you have no idea how I’m feeling right now.”
“Then tell me.”
“I’m angry, Ilya!” she snapped, blinking back the tears that welled in her eyes. “…at you, at myself, at everything!”
I listened, my gaze unwavering.
“I’m frustrated, I’m confused, I’m hurt, and I don’t know what to believe or what to do with my life, or what’s left of it.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
I didn’t say a word.
She continued, amid sobs, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. “I’m still young. I still have my whole life ahead of me. I have plans for the future, and none of them involve getting stuck in a marriage with one of the most ruthless men on the planet.”
“This marriage will protect you, Iris.”
“I never would’ve needed protection if you hadn’t walked into my life!”
That stung.
“You wanna know what I think?” She stared at me. “I think you wanna marry me just so you can own me and keep me under control.” A pause. “You don’t care about me. All you care about is yourself! Your name. Your ego. Your reputation…”
She was still talking when I closed the distance between us and sealed her lips with a kiss. Her voice went silent, and she struggled for a moment before slowly letting her guard down.
I slid my tongue into her mouth, and she did the same, the scent of her shampoo filling the space between us.
Before things could heat up, she tore her lips from mine and stepped back. Her chest heaved slowly, her eyes wide with something dark and primal.
I wanted more of her.
And judging by the insatiable need perched on her face, the feeling was mutual.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked, her voice low, her palm on her mouth.
“Because I wanted to. Because it’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”
She swallowed, unable to look away from me. By now, the air had shifted from hostile to something more sexual.
My heart was racing in anticipation of her next move. I thought I’d regret kissing him, but I didn’t.
“Tell me you didn’t like it,” I dared her, taking slow steps forward. “Tell me you don’t want me as badly as I want you, and I’ll walk away.” That was a promise intended to keep.
Her lips trembled, and her eyes locked on mine, telling me everything I needed to know. She was already turned on.
“Fuck it,” she mumbled under her breath.
I reached for her as quickly as she reached for me. My hand slid into her wet hair, and I pulled her mouth to mine.
The kiss was harder this time, teeth and heat and the soft sound she made when I deepened it. She kissed me back just as fiercely, her fingers curling into the front of my black singlet.
Her head moved with mine, instinctively matching my rhythm as she moaned in my mouth. I pulled her closer, the print of my erection brushing against her.
My hand traveled underneath her towel, teasing and caressing her inner thighs.
Effortlessly, I lifted her, set her on the edge of the table by the window, and stepped between her thighs.
The towel rode up. My hands gripped her bare hips, keeping her open for me. She gasped against my mouth when I pressed closer.
She slid her hand down, bold and uncertain at the same time, stroking the hard length of my cock through my pants. The pressure of her palm dragged a low sound from my throat.
“You feel that?” I growled against her lips. “That’s what you do to me. You make me hard.”
She groaned softly, tilting her head upward while I kissed her neck.
I pushed the towel higher and slipped two fingers between her legs. She was already soaked, soft and hot.
“Look at you,” I whispered, basking in the expression on her face. “You’re wet already.”
Her teeth grazed her lower lip, her warm hazel eyes flashing with desire.
The second I stroked her clit, she moaned, quietly at first, then broken, her lips parting as her eyes fluttered half-shut.
“Fuck,” she breathed, arching her back in response to my touch.
So beautiful.
I worked her carefully, pushing deeper inside her wetness while watching her face contort in pleasure.
Her brows drew together, the soft flush climbing her cheeks as her lips parted in a silent scream. Her breath was shaky, her thighs trembling around my hand.
The air was now filled with the scent of her arousal, and it made my mouth water.
Iris held my gaze as I fingered her tight pussy while she moaned in ecstasy. She yanked my singlet over my head, and in the process, the towel slid off her skin, revealing her naked body.
I paused to admire her gentle swells for a second before lifting her and carrying her to the bed.
The towel stayed behind. I laid her down and followed, kissing her lips until they were swollen. I palmed the curve of her breasts with both hands, her arms slung around me.
My mouth left hers, and I began kissing her neck through to her chest. There, I sucked her breasts, twirling my tongue around her hard nipples. One at a time.
She let out a quiet whimper, her hands caressing my back. I traced the path down her body until I settled between her legs.
When I glanced up at her, her chest was already rising and falling, anticipation coloring her eyes.
I breathed in the scent of her, teasing her slick entrance with my thumb.
She exhaled shakily.
I stuck out my tongue, swiping it between her folds.
“Oh, fuck,” I murmured, reaching down to grab a handful of my hair.
The first taste of her pulled a rough sound from me. Soft, slick, faintly sweet. I licked deeper, slower, savoring every shift of her hips.