Chapter 12 #2
“This,” Nikolai snarled against my ear, his voice rough and hot enough to burn even in the raging blizzard, “is not the left side of the fucking car.”
I was sprawled on top of him, my body plastered to his. His gun dug into my hips, hard and unforgiving, and while his eyes were cold, everything else was scorching. His chest rising against mine, my legs locked around his thick thigh, his breath shuddering across my cheek.
“You jumped toward me, not away.” His pale eyes glittered with fury, but there was something darker hiding underneath that glacial stare. “Interesting choice, Babochka.”
Heat shot through my stomach, treacherous and wild.
“I panicked. And I’ve always struggled with lefts and rights.”
“Your body knew. It knew exactly where to go to be safe.”
Before I could answer, shouting cut through the storm. Russian voices barking out orders so close to us that they were sure to find us any minute now. I stopped breathing, trying to listen to the boots crunching the snow to tell how far or close they were.
“Fuck,” Nikolai hissed, rolling us and pinning me beneath him, shoving me deeper into the snowbank with his weight. His body covered mine completely in a shield of muscle and flesh.
“Don’t move. Don’t breathe.” His hand came down over my mouth, his palm feeling hot against my lips, his fingers spread against my cheek. His mouth was at my ear next, whispering so low I felt it in my bones before actually hearing him. “Not a fucking sound.”
The voices drew closer, echoing off the ridge. My heart hammered against his chest, every beat pressing me tighter against him. His hips pressed between my thighs, anchoring me to the earth beneath us. Every inhale filled me with him: smoke, alluring cologne, ruthlessness.
The gun at his waist dug into me, a brutal reminder of the dangerous man who could subdue me with his weight alone, and yet, fear was not the thing running through me as I kept my gaze on his.
His strength, his heat. The way his merciless eyes locked on mine while he assessed the danger around us was making me feel something I had never felt in my whole life. Something I wasn’t supposed to want.
The searchers shouted again. My bruises screamed against the pressure of his hand, but I didn’t dare move. His thumb brushed absently along my jaw, trying to soothe me. It was the lightest of strokes, like he wasn’t even sure he should be doing it.
He definitely shouldn’t.
I was supposed to be terrified. I was terrified. But the sharp edge of fear blurred into something else under him. Something hotter. Something that made my body ache with confusion.
Why was it that here, beneath Nikolai Volkov, the monster who had kidnapped me and ruined my life, I felt safer than I ever had?
How damaged did I have to be to be looking for affection or safety from my captor?
We stayed like that for a long while, until the shouts grew faint and the crunch of those boots faded, giving way to nothing but the sound of the howling wind.
Still, Nikolai remained still for a few moments longer, making sure we were alone before easing his hand from my mouth.
His palm left a print of heat on my skin, my lips tingling from the rough press of his fingers.
“Did I hurt you?” His thumb caressed the corner of my mouth, softer than I ever thought a man like Nikolai could be.
I shook my head in response, giving me a few extra seconds to make sure my voice was steady enough to speak.
“You’re crushing me, though,” I whispered, though the truth was I didn’t want him to move. Not yet.
“Good. That means they’ll need to go through me to get to you.”
The words shouldn’t have made my stomach flip, but they did. I wanted to shove him off and pull him closer, the warring feelings making my head spin. My body couldn’t decide which was the right answer.
“You kidnapped me,” I hissed, trying to bring the truth to light and hopefully have rationality kick in and make me stop feeling things, like the need to have his lips on my skin.
Nikolai’s hypnotic eyes flicked down to my mouth before lifting back to mine, pale and unreadable. The intensity in his gaze had my breath cut from my lungs, and for a moment, I thought he’d close the small space between us and actually kiss me.
“And I’m still the only thing keeping you alive,” He whispered, his breath fanning my lips as he spoke, that stubborn thumb coming back to stroke my bottom lip. “That’s why you jumped to me. Isn’t that right, Little Moth?”
My pulse tripped over itself. His face hovered so close to mine that if I moved an inch, we would collide.
For a weak moment, I wondered what those lips tasted like.
How Nikolai Volkov kissed. Was he tender?
No. I bet he took without permission, and I couldn’t deny how strangely thrilling that realization was.
But then the wind shifted, carrying the echo of another shout across the arid land of nothing but snow. Nikolai’s expression hardened. In a single, fluid motion, he pushed off me, leaving cold air where his heat had been.
“Up,” he ordered, his hand closing around my arm to haul me to my feet. Snow slid off both of us, but the weight of that moment clung like a second skin that I didn’t want to shed.
“Where are we going?” I looked around, the blizzard making it hard to see.
“Home,” Nikolai replied, but instead of warmth in a word that should bring comfort and solace, the only thing he infused it with was disdain.