Chapter Four
Viktor
The night air hits my face the moment I step outside, Vanda’s leash looped loosely in my fingers as she trots beside me.
She keeps glancing back toward the building, ears pinned, like she thinks she should be upstairs guarding Natalya instead of out here taking a piss. I get it. I feel the same way.
But she needed the break. And I needed the space.
Because if I go back into that apartment right now after seeing Natalya crying, shaking, trying to sweep glass with trembling hands…I’m going to track down those two bastards myself and put their heads through a wall before Dmitri even has time to ask what the bodies are doing on his doorstep.
I exhale slowly, forcing control back into my spine. Losing it helps no one. Definitely not her.
I pull my phone from my pocket and hit Alexei’s number first. He answers on the second ring.
“What happened?” he asks immediately, no preamble, his voice tight in that way it gets when he’s already preparing for the worst.
“Two street-level idiots tried to extort her,” I say, keeping my tone even. “Came into the shop, broke things. Threatened her.”
There’s a sharp inhale on the other side. “Is she hurt?”
“No.” My jaw clenches. “Not physically.”
Alexei lets out a low curse. “I’ll send men to clean up the shop. And I’ll rotate two guards there for the next week, maybe longer. I want constant eyes on her.”
“I’ve got three of mine outside already,” I answer. “No one’s getting near her.”
“Good.” A beat. “But Viktor…you know how this will look. You know what line you’re crossing.”
“I’m well aware,” I say flatly.
He sighs, and for a second he’s less the Balshov pakhan and more the man who’s known me long enough to recognize when something is no longer just business. “Then hear me clearly. You have tonight to calm her, to keep her safe. Tomorrow morning, before anything spreads—you call Andrei. And Mikhail.”
My shoulders tense. “She doesn’t want to ruin their visit.”
“I don’t care,” Alexei snaps. “If they hear from someone else that she was threatened? That the shop was hit?” His tone darkens. “There will be hell to pay.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right.
“I’ll handle it,” I say.
“You’d better.” Then softer, “How bad was she?”
I look up at the apartment window, my chest tightening with something unrecognizable.
“She was terrified,” I admit quietly. “They broke things. Cornered her. She stood her ground, but…she was shaking.”
Alexei goes silent. That silence says everything.
“I’m sending people now,” he says finally. “Go take care of her.”
After the call ends, I dial Dmitri next.
He answers with a lazy, distracted-sounding, “Viktor, privet—what’s on fire now?”
“Two men hit Natalya’s shop.”
I can almost see the instant shift. His voice drops. “Who?”
“Dunno yet. But I plan to find out.”
Dmitri exhales sharply. “Could be Krasnov’s leftovers…he’s been scrambling for territory since the Popovs fell. But I’ll ask around.”
“Krasnov doesn’t have the balls to hit a Balshov-adjacent business.”
“He has the stupidity,” Dmitri mutters. “Let me confirm.”
He ends the call just as Vanda nuzzles my leg. I’d almost forgotten she was there.
“We should go back now,” I murmur, tugging gently on the leash.
As we head inside, Alexei’s subtle warning rings on my head—What will Andrei think about my involvement with his sister?
Normally, I wouldn’t think twice about what Andrei would say, but I know his reaction is important to Natalya. So it is important to me.
Everyone will just have to adjust.
Because I’m not letting her go. She is mine.
Once inside the apartment, Vanda ditches me to go sit in her favorite corner by the window. I head straight to the bedroom, pushing the door open just in time to see Natalya walking into the room in a towel that stops just above her thighs, her hair wet rolled up in a haphazard bun.
Damn.
Goddamn it—
I cross the space between us in two long strides, slide my fingers into her hair, and undo the knot, spilling it down her back and around her shoulders.
I brush knuckles over her cheek. “You are so beautiful, Natalya…”
Her breath hitches, but then she nods and that’s all I need.
I reach down, tug off her towel, and let it fall to the floor. Desire hits me like a tidal wave, the breath leaving my lungs in a gust.
She stands there, cheeks deeply flushed as my gaze roams her body.
“God, lepestok, you’re gorgeous. I want you.”
She steps close and lays her hand over one of my pecs, running her palms up my muscle and she leans in, her thumb grazing my nipple, her breath brushing my skin and sending ripples through my entire body.
“So are you, Viktor,” she murmurs silkily. “You are very beautiful. And I want you too…”
Her hand slides over my abdomen to the button that fastened my jeans, but her hands are trembling so badly that I reached down to help her undo it.
“Easy, love,” I say, pulling down my zipper with her.
I’m not wearing underwear, so my erection springs free as the pants snap apart. I guide her hands beneath my pants, over my hips, and over the muscled roundness of my buttocks, as I shuck my jeans and toss them aside. And then we’re both naked.
I let my gaze rake over her again, hungry for the sight of her. The scent of warm honey rises from her damp skin, one taut nipple peeking out from between strands of chocolate hair, her breasts rising with each rapid breath.
I never thought it was possible to want a woman this badly, to truly want her, to want to please her. I want her first time to be spectacular.
Fuck!
“Come here.”
Heart hammering in my chest, I hook a finger beneath her chin, duck down, brush my lips over hers, gratified by the little shivers that jolt through her.
I’ll take this slowly, giving her body and her mind all the time she needs to adjust and truly enjoy it. And then …
I fight back the desire to kiss her, instead letting her anticipation build as my mouth wanders.
I taste the honey-sweet skin of her throat, suck her earlobe, tease the whorl of her ear with my tongue.
Only when she’s shaking in my arms do I bring my lips back to hers, kissing the corners of her mouth, nipping her lower lip, tracing the outline of her lips with my tongue.
Then, at last, I kiss her, inhaling her whimper, my mouth filling with the sweet taste of her as our tongues meet.
She melts in my arms, every soft, sweet inch of her pressed against me, the feminine feel of her making my body tense, a bolt of heat shearing through my gut.
She kisses me back with all the fire in her soul, matching me stroke for stroke, her erotic exploration of my mouth blowing whatever is left of my mind. I let myself get lost in her, lost in the scent and feel of her, need for her thrumming in my veins.
I pull away and scoop her into my arms, carrying her the few short steps to the bed and stretching out beside her., Our lips meet once again, and I ravish every corner of her mouth, teeth scraping skin, biting, nipping.
But I want more. So much more…
I lift my head, pin her arms above her with one hand, then reach down with the other to cup her breasts, teasing her petal-soft nipples into tight buds, tugging them with my fingers, flicking them with my thumb.
She gasps, then moans, a sound of unmistakable female arousal.
“God, I love your breasts.” Natural and soft, they yield to my hand as I cup and palm them, their tips so sensitive that she shivers at the merest flick of my thumb.
And then I can’t wait another second, I duck down, greeting each puckered peak with an eager flick of my tongue, then close my mouth over her right nipple and suck.
She cries out, whimpers, arching her back, offering herself to me, her arms still pinned above her head.
“Oh, Viktor!”
The way she calls my name—the urgency in her voice—sends pleasure rocketing through me.
Driven by her pleas and my own desperate hunger, I tug on her nipple with my lips, flick it with my tongue, suckle it, cupping her other breast with my free hand, my thumb tracing circles on the sensitive underside.
God, she’s so responsive!
She’s breathing fast, her body trembling, her eyes squeezed shut, a look of torment on her sweet face.
Brain buzzing with lust, I shift my mouth to her other nipple, grazing her with the edge of my teeth, then sucking hard. I want to please her, want so goddamn bad to please her, want to make her burn for me the way I burn for her.
“Viktor, please!” She squirms against me, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking relief.
I raise my head, release her wrists, and feel her fingers clench in my hair. I flick a nipple with my tongue, teasing her. “Please what? Please stop?”
She gives a frustrated moan. “Please don’t stop!”
Only too happy to oblige her, I lower my mouth to a wet nipple, sucking and nipping her as I nudge my hand between her thighs, lift her right leg and drape it over my hip, spreading her wide. My hand seeks the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing her, working my way slowly upward.
Christ, I can feel her heat. It radiates from within her, her sultry, musky scent igniting every drop of testosterone in my blood.
She whimpers my name, her nails digging into my scalp, her hips rising each time my hand draws near, then twisting in sexual frustration when I pull my hand away again.
When I’m certain I have her on the edge, I cup her damp curls and ease a finger inside her.
She lets out a breathy moan, her hot, slick walls gripping my finger tight.
I hear myself growl like some kind of damned animal, my hips flexing as if my cock is buried inside her instead of thrusting against her thigh.
Slow down, Balshov.
I force breath into my lungs, doing my best to relax. I stroke her, sliding a second finger inside her, stretching her. “In a few minutes, my cock is going to be inside you, stroking you just like this.”
She shivers in response, her body tensing up, and I know she finds the idea both arousing and a little frightening.