Chapter 17 #2
My voice trembles. I hate that it does. “If we let them tear us apart, they’ve already won before the battle even starts.”
“Then you can’t keep secrets from me,” he snaps.
“I haven’t!” I know I haven’t.
“According to Aleks, you have three burner phones, a wig, plus the knife I found in the bedside table.”
I stare. I blink. “The phones were to call my connections in Colombia without bringing suspicion down on the Romanovs. The knife is for basic protection, and I certainly have no plans on using it. And the wig… my God, sue me if I thought it would be fun to do a little role play.” My cheeks flame to think Aleks saw that. “You’ve been spying on me.”
“It’s my job.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Oh, really?” I clench my teeth. “How long, Lev? What will it take for you to trust me?”
“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head, and for the first time, it looks like he’s warring with his own doubt. He anchors his hands on his hips. “Come here.”
“I’m not playing—”
He reaches for me and grabs my wrist, yanking me against his chest. I slam against his hard muscles. His familiar scent makes me want to cry.
“What are you doing?”
“There’s only one way to get the truth out of you.”
Oh, no, if he thinks—
His lips crash against mine. Our tongues meet. His dominance and my desire clash. I stifle a moan, instantly wet.
He pulls away and holds my gaze. “I must know if your loyalty is truly to my family alone.”
Frustration and hurt well in my chest. "I’ve told you, Lev. I’m with you! But you keep doubting me, pushing me away. How can we ever move forward if you don’t trust me?”
“How can I trust you when you keep hiding things that point to your guilt? It’s like you’re here, but your heart is still in Colombia.”
My emotions threaten to choke me. "That’s not fair! What more do you want from me?"
He blows out a breath and touches my shoulder. "I want to believe you, Isabella. But every time I let my guard down…”
“You don’t have to prove yourself to me. You can trust me. I never betrayed you. Stop treating me like I did.”
Lev’s eyes flash with a mix of anger and vulnerability. He grabs my arm, our breaths mingling in the heated air.
I will try again. “Show me who you are behind this armor. Let me in.”
He crushes his lips against mine, the kiss rough and demanding. He tears at my clothes, the room filling with the sounds of our desperate need. It’s been days. It feels like an eternity.
He pushes me against the wall, his hands roaming over my body as if seeking silent reassurance. He cups my ass, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Our movements are frantic, driven by a need to prove something to ourselves. To each other.
He buries his face in my neck. I shiver, imbibing his scent.
I lick his neck, relishing the salty taste of his hot skin, and he groans.
“Sometimes I wish this wasn’t who we are.
Sometimes I wish we were normal people who had normal jobs and worried about shit like, should we get a dog, and when’s the next fucking soccer game? ”
I make a sound of disgust. “That sounds so basic and boring as fuck.” I kiss the underside of his jaw, heat rising in my belly, primal need clawing at my chest. I want him inside me so badly I could cry.
“Maybe normal is underrated,” he whispers in my ear.
“Let’s get through this,” I whisper back. “And then we’ll give it a go, mi querido jefe.”
“Deal, mi reina.” My heart surges in my chest. My queen.
“Are you hitting the Duolingo again?” I grin against his neck, and he slaps my ass. I close my eyes and moan.
“Aleks has a new housekeeper who speaks Spanish. I’ve been quizzing her.”
That’s so fucking adorable. I push back on his chest and frown at him. “Is she young and hot?”
He holds me with one hand while he yanks my top off with the other. I reach for his tee and pull it up and over his head. I stare at the breadth of his shoulders, the corded muscles at his neck and back. I kiss the tats on his arms.
“No,” he snorts. “She’s like a sixty-year-old grandma.”
I kiss him. My tongue meets his. He utters a low, male sound of approval that does delicious things to me.
“Oh good, maybe she can make me tres leches.”
He bends my head back and kisses my neck, and I moan. “Thought you didn’t eat cake.”
I swallow, the rough, hot feel of his tongue making me crazy. “For tres leches, I make an exception.”
He grins. I swoon. Christ, my husband is a fucking god. Wordlessly, he lifts me onto his desk, pushing papers and maps aside. Pens bounce off the floor and something inside me thrills at his carelessness. He wants me.
With one hand gripping my thigh, he uses the other to open the huge window behind me, letting in the cool night air and the distant sound of the city. I thrill at the exposure, the knowledge that a whole city is right outside. I catch a glimpse of us in one of his huge monitors and grin.
He tears my clothes away and growls into my ear. “You’re mine, Isabella. Do you understand?"
I moan, my nails digging into the tats on his back. "Yes, Lev. I’m yours. Only yours."
Gripping me with one hand, he unzips his fly with the other. I hold my breath at the sight of his thick, throbbing cock. I want him in me. I can’t fucking breathe until he’s in me.
My head falls back when he shoves my thighs apart. I’m gripping his shoulders, but my hands are slick with sweat. I’m slipping. I fall, and he catches me in his strong, capable hands.
Our bodies move together in a fierce rhythm, the world outside disappearing as we lose ourselves in each other.
His phone rings over and over again.
“I have to take that,” he says in my ear. I open my mouth to protest. “Don’t say a fucking word, or I’ll punish you.”
I bite my tongue and grin as he stabs his phone and hits the speaker.
“Yeah?”
He shoves into me so hard a spasm rushes through me. I close my eyes. Someone talks to him in Russian, and he answers in grunts. I bend my mouth to his chest and lick his nipple. He hisses in a breath and yanks my hair.
How did I not know how sexy it was to hear him growl in Russian? He thrusts into me, again and again, taking the call, growling into the phone, and finally slamming it off, never losing his pace.
As he ends the call, his control snaps. He shoves everything aside and gives me the full heat of his focus. My head falls back, and I scream my release as he roars and spills inside me.
I’m drowning in bliss, blind to everything but the feel of his hot body against mine, the flood of ecstasy in my limbs, his hot seed lashing into me.
I come again, a second climax on the cusp of the first. I scream until I’m hoarse.
I slump against him, hot, wet, and utterly boneless.
I can’t move. The hounds of hell could be at my back, and I’d collapse in front of them.
Our breathing is heavy, our hearts beating as one in a rapid tempo. He wraps his arms around me. I vaguely wonder how he’s still standing.
“Thought you had questions for me,” I tease, my eyes closed and a smile on my lips. “I thought you were going to interrogate me with your cock.”
“You were the one who had to go and bewitch me,” he rasps in my ear. “Got anything to tell me?”
I pause. I know what I want to tell him, but it’s too soon.
Isn’t it?
I love you, Lev Romanov.
I can’t breathe when you’re not here.
You make me ache in all the best ways.
I love you.
I nestle against his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart.
“No,” I whisper. “Got anything you need to ask?”
He sighs. “No. I don’t want to lose you, Isabella.”
“We’re going to make this work.”
He nods, stroking his fingers lazily through my tangled hair. “I have to go. That call was urgent. I need to meet one of my men.”
“Javier?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I swallow. “Can I go?”
Shaking his head, he holds me to his chest. “I wish you could. You’re safer here for now.”
For now.
I don’t want to see him go.
I can’t explain it, but it feels like if I let him go out that door… he’ll never come back.