2. The Waiting Game
THE WAITING GAME
Idon’t wait. I thrive around action and efficiency, not the languid laziness that accompanies inactivity. No one succeeds standing still; plus, it’s harder to hit a moving target.
Yet I’m reclined in a leather armchair by the windows, impatiently anticipating the door opening.
Carina is intelligent. She’s aware it’s safer for her and simpler for me if we have no blatant association with each other.
She’ll remain at the bar for a bit so it’s not evident she is following me upstairs.
She might also be entertaining that ancient mudak, who surely returned to her side as soon as I left it.
My phone buzzes on the television stand. I straighten, check the caller, swear, then answer with a terse, “What?”
“We caught a rat, boss,” Adrian says cheerfully. “A chatty one. Says O’Brien is skimming fifteen off the top and that he has more he’ll only tell you.”
I curse again. “Bring him to the warehouse. I’ll be there in a few hours.”
“You got it.”
I end the call, pinch the bridge of my nose, and release a long exhale. Then walk over to the mini fridge, grabbing a bottle of vodka out and emptying it into a glass before walking over to the windows. The city lights are brilliant, illuminating the white flurries drifting down from the dark sky.
I’ve been to Chicago many times, but I’ve never explored most of it.
I slither through the shadows like a snake, haunt the city’s most depraved corners like a ghoul, spread fear and collect a commission from its inferior criminals.
The taste of copper still lingers in the back of my throat from hours of enforcing authority.
I swallow a large sip of vodka, savoring the chilled burn as it slides down my esophagus. I prefer fair fights, and today was a series of punishments. They serve a purpose, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant.
The lock beeps. I spin to face the door, poised to strike, aware this hotel doesn’t have the same level of security as my usual residences. Coming here is careless. Ironically, it would be more dangerous to bring Carina to a safe house.
“Finally,” I drawl when she saunters in.
It’s been fourteen minutes. Fourteen minutes longer than I would have waited for anyone else.
Carina glances around the suite, taking in the luxurious furnishings while I study her. After scanning the room, she focuses on my hands. “Where’s your gun?”
I scowl at her. “Not funny.” The incident she’s referring to took ten years off my life. “Get undressed.”
In my current mood, I’ll probably rip that dress. I spent all day—all week and also the past month—looking forward to tonight, and I’m accustomed to having what I want when I want it.
She plays with the belt of her wool coat. Not tugging, simply teasing. “We have all night, you know.”
I wish I could stay, not sneak out once she falls asleep. I wish I could tell her where I’m going, and why, and expect anything except disgust on her face.
I sip more vodka to ensure none of that comes out. “Let me see you.”
A smile flickers across her face. “Please.”
“I do not know that word.”
Carina rolls her eyes before slipping off her long coat, revealing the maroon dress underneath again. She tosses the coat on the neatly made bed.
“That will be in the way.”
She shrugs a shoulder. “Then move it.”
I hide a grin behind another swallow.
Carina has grown bolder, more confident, over the many years we’ve known each other. She is comfortable around me, talking back or touching without asking permission. She’s the only woman with those privileges. The only person whose orders I listen to voluntarily.
I set the glass down on the table beside the bed, then pick up her coat. I fling the bundle of gray wool onto the leather armchair where I was sitting earlier, then take a seat on the end of the mattress, giving her my full attention. “Take off the dress, Carina.”
It’s not a request. My limited patience is fraying, everything I handled earlier and what’s waiting for me after this shredding my willpower to scraps. If my bossiness didn’t get her so wet, I’d be more motivated to control it.
My incessant need to fuck her doesn’t worry me. What bothers me—what’s always bothered me—is how easily I forget to act a certain way around her.
Carina holds my gaze as she steps out of her heels.
Pulls the pins out of her hair so the long strands spill over her shoulders in a dark, heavy veil.
Rolls her black stockings down, exposing more pale skin beneath.
A private show, meant only for me. I can’t have her body whenever I want, so the thrill of seeing it never fades.
She pivots in place, elegant as a ballerina, so her back is facing me. “I can’t reach the zipper.”
I stand, approaching slowly so she hears each step. Carina sweeps all her brunette hair over one shoulder, exposing her back.
My fingers brush along the straight column of her neck before finding the tiny tab of the zipper below two visible vertebrae.
“How did you get dressed?” I tug at the delicate zipper, my knuckles brushing each bump of her spine as the metal teeth part.
“I-Isabella.”
I pull slow, her rapid breathing and the metal rasp as the zipper opens audible in the quiet room. She’s not wearing a bra, and the band of her underwear belongs to a lacy pair I know she did not wear for her performance earlier.
My hands lower.
Hers lift, slipping the straps off her shoulders so her dress pools on the floor in a pile of silky fabric. She spins again, completing the circle, giggling when she notices my eyes drop to admire her body. The sound is nearly foreign. Laughter has never been part of sex with anyone else.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Carina complains, reaching out and starting to undo the line of buttons on my black shirt. “Guess I’ll have to do all the work.”
A smile remains on her face as nimble fingers move lower. I hold still, enjoying her touch, even through the stiff fabric. My being naked isn’t necessary for what’s about to take place. And I should be rushing this so I can get to the warehouse before the snitch changes his mind.
Instead, my hands land on her hips, holding her close. Then slide to cup her ass, adjusting us so my hardening cock grazes her. “You never do all the work.”
“Because you’re too impatient.”
I don’t argue. I am.
Once my shirt is open, her hands slip under the crisp fabric. I was late because I showered and changed first, not wanting any remnant of earlier to come into contact with her.
One finger traces the scar slashed across the left side of my ribs. “It healed well,” she says softly.
My phone begins buzzing again.
Carina glances toward the sound, then back to me, a silent question on her face.
“I don’t feel like talking,” I tell her, the words an explanation and a warning. My grip tightens, lifting her against my body and turning us toward the bed.
Carina giggles again, resting her head on my shoulder and pressing a kiss against the side of my neck.
My dick jolts like her mouth landed there, swelling inside my slacks. I ignore my own arousal, ripping the comforter off the bed one-handed before laying her on the sheets. I want to taste her first.
Carina wiggles on the mattress, working her underwear off her hips and down her long legs. She throws them at me with a smirk, her expression shifting to scandalized when I stuff them into my pocket.
“Lev!” She laughs, chastising me with red cheeks.
I tuck that away too—the memory of her naked and beaming up at me.
I crawl over her, settling between her thighs. Holding my body weight with my arms so I don’t crush her. Her legs wrap around my waist, and we both groan at the resulting friction.
And then we stare at each other, and it’s far more intimate than sex. She’s silent, and I am, too, the only noise rustling fabric.
I wonder when she’ll speak off the script that these nights follow. It will happen one day. I wait for it every time.
I can’t do this anymore.
I met someone else.
Her mouth opens, and I brace myself. “Am I going to have to do all the work? Or are you going to fuck me?”
I shove upward so I can admire her under me again. My hands slide up her legs, pulling her thighs apart. “Please?”
“I do not know that word.” She exaggerates my accent, and I’d smile at the imitation if I wasn’t distracted by the sight of her soaked cunt.
My mouth lowers, and she learns it real fast.