Chapter 9 Nadia
Nine
Nadia
I’m exhausted when I walk out of the clinic. It’s been a long shift. Three hours of overtime because we were short-staffed. My feet hurt. My back hurts. I just want to go home, take a hot shower, and curl up with my husband on the couch.
But when I step outside, Zak’s not in his usual spot by the Maserati.
He’s leaning against a different car, a sleek black Range Rover, with his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. Looking like every badass mobster fantasy I’ve ever had in another custom-made dark suit.
His eyes find mine, and my insides melt. God, will this ever get old?
I walk over to him, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him. “New car?”
He just nods. No explanation. Typical. Pushing off the SUV to open the passenger door for me. “How was work?”
I sigh. “Long, tiring.” I climb in and sink into the leather seat.
He steals another kiss before closing my door, leaving me already half-dazed. Then walks around and slides into the driver’s seat.
“I have a surprise for you.”
I grin wide. “What kind of surprise?”
He winks. “The good kind.”
He starts the engine, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Zaaaaak,” I whine, making him chuckle.
He gives me a mischievous look, but his only answer is, “Baby.”
“Where are we going?” I groan again.
His lips stretch into a blinding smile. “You’ll see.”
God, I love seeing my husband happy, relaxed, and playful. I study him as he drives. He has one big, strong hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console. All tanned skin, tattoos, and prominent veins. Ugh, kill me now!
I reach over, sliding my fingers over his. He glances at me, laces our fingers together, and brings my hand to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. My poor heart…
“You’re being suspiciously nice,” I tease him.
More deliciously rumbly chuckles. “I’m always nice to you, babe.”
I huff. “You’re bossy.”
“That, too.”
* * *
We drive for about twenty minutes. I watch the city pass by, trying to figure out where we’re going. When he pulls into a parking garage attached to a huge convention center, I sit up straighter.
“Honey, what is this?”
He doesn’t answer. Just parks, comes around, and opens my door, smirking.
I step out, looking around. There are people everywhere. Mostly women. Carrying tote bags. Wearing T-shirts with book covers on them.
Wait.
I look up at the huge banner hanging above the entrance that says, “ROMANCE BOOK CONVENTION”, in huge pink bold letters.
My jaw drops. “No.”
Zak’s watching me, arms crossed, smiling like I just made his freaking day.
“Baby… is this…”
He shrugs. Like this is no big deal. “Thought you’d want to go.”
I stare at him. At my massive, terrifying Bratva boss of a husband who brought me to a freaking smut con!
“Are you serious right now?”
He shakes his head. “Dead serious.”
A squeal escapes me, and I throw my arms around his neck, kissing all over his handsome face.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is so sweet, Zak!!” He’s holding me tightly, my breasts crushed to his hard chest, my feet off the ground, lost in each other’s eyes. “I can’t believe you did this,” I tell him breathlessly, beaming like a fool.
“Anything for my wife.” He leans in to kiss me. Long, deep, slow, panty-melting…
Then he sets me back on my feet, takes my hand, and we walk toward the entrance.
* * *
The second we step inside, it’s complete chaos.
Of the best kind. There are booths everywhere, authors signing books, displays with gorgeous covers, posters with couples in sexy poses, and merch.
So much merch! Cover models milling about.
Women everywhere, laughing, talking, carrying overflowing tote bags.
And in the middle of all that, my man. Six-foot-four, all-black suit that’s doing The Lord’s work, tattoos peeking out at his collar and wrists. His dark eyes scanning the crowd. I keep giggling every time someone turns to stare.
“Holy shit, look at him.”
“He’s terrifying.”
“But also… hot…”
And of course, Zak doesn’t notice a thing, or he just couldn’t care less. As always when we’re together, his entire focus is on me. Sigh.
“Where do you want to start?”
I look around, feeling like a kid in a candy store. “I don’t even know. There’s so much!”
He gestures forward, chuckling.
We start walking through the crowd, stopping at any booth I recognize the author’s name, or book titles, pick up a few, get offered a colorful tote bag, a bunch of fun stickers and bookmarks. This is heaven!
Zak stays close, his hand never leaving mine.
It all feels surreal. That he took the time to find out about this event and come with me.
This man is probably the busiest person I know.
He has immense responsibilities. Conducts serious business.
People’s lives depend on his actions. But still, to please me, to care for his wife, he’s spending precious hours at a romance book event…
When the crowd gets too thick, he moves in front of me, clearing a path with just his presence. People take one look at him and move. It’s kind of hilarious.
“You know you don’t have to look so scary, right?” I say, laughing.
His eyes widen like he’s genuinely confused. “I’m not trying to look scary.”
“Babe, you’re glaring.”
“I’m making sure no one bumps into you.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
We stop at another booth with a huge display. I pick up a romantasy book after reading the back cover. It sounds amazing. I grab an omegaverse retelling of Harley Quinn and The Joker, titled “Knotted By The Psychopath” by Taylor Rose. Say what?!
Zak chuckles next to me.
“That one sounds promising.”
I giggle. “I know, right?”
He shakes his head, pulls out his wallet, and hands me a black card.
I blink at the card, then at him. “Baby, you don’t have to…”
He closes my fingers around it, kissing my knuckles. Ugh, this man is killing me!
* * *
An hour later, I have an overflowing tote bag over each shoulder, and Zak’s arms are also full.
He’s walking around carrying books with titles like “Traded For Their Pleasure” and “King Sized”, without batting a single lash.
Covers with shirtless men and throuples…
And the man doesn’t even blink. My guy. Just standing there in all his deadly Bratva boss scorching hotness, holding a mountain of smutty romance novels. The visual is freaking everything.
I keep looking up at him, giggling.
“You okay there?”
He shakes his head, smiling down at me. “I’m fine.”
I love him so much.
A woman nearby gasps. “Oh my God, are you the guy from that mafia book cover?”
Her friend giggles. “Can we have a picture?”
I turn, grinning, looping my arm through Zak’s. “Nope, he’s my husband.”
Their jaws drop. Zak just briefly nods at them, shifting the books in his arms to allow more room for my hand on his elbow.
* * *
After another thirty minutes, I’m ready to go. Mostly because I feel guilty about the massive pile Zak’s carrying.
“Okay. I think I’m done.”
“You sure?”
I tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Yes, baby. Thank you again.”
We head toward the exit. Me, clutching my totes full of treasures, unable to stop smiling. Best surprise ever!
When I glance at Zak, he’s watching me with dark, hungry eyes. Uh-oh… I know that look…
“Zak?”
“Time to go, baby.” His voice is low and rough.
Heat spreads through my belly as I swallow with difficulty. “Oookay.”
We get to the car. He loads the books into the back seat and opens my door.
I slide in, my heart racing.
He gets in, starts the engine, and pulls out of the parking garage. And we make it maybe two blocks before he pulls into an empty side street.
“Honey, what…”
He cuts me off with a kiss, his hand fisting in my hair. I moan into his mouth, my fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket. When he pulls back after a long, deep, wet tongue-fucking, we’re both breathing hard.
His thumb brushes my lower lip, and he rumbles, “Backseat. Now.”
When we climb in the back, Zak pulls me on his lap, making me straddle him.
His hands go to my hips, hard, desperate, gripping. Fucking perfect.
“So fucking perfect.”
“Zak,” I breathe.
He kisses me again, his tongue sliding against mine, tasting me, teasing me.
I grind down on him, feeling how hard he is.
And he groans. “Fuck, sweetheart.”
His hands slide under my scrubs, warm, rough, demanding, fucking everywhere.
I moan into his mouth, “I need you.”
Eyes locked on mine, he lifts me to help me lower my pants, his big hands shaking. And I fucking love that. The way I affect him, the way this implacable man loses control with me. Only me.
When I sink down on him, we both groan.
“God, Nadia.”
“You feel so good.”
We’re staring into each other’s eyes, lips parted, breathing the same air, our bodies connected. He grips my hips, guiding me. Harder. Faster. The car rocks. And I’m so lost in him. In the feel of him inside me. The way he fills me. Stretches me. Fucking owns me.
“That’s it, baby.” His voice is wrecked. “Take what you need.”
“Zak…”
“Gonna fill you up.” His hands tighten on my soft flesh. “Gonna put my fucking baby in you.”
“Yes! God, yes!”
He thrusts up hard. Once. Twice. Making me explode around his long, thick, hard cock. Then he’s coming too, groaning my name.
I’m shaking, clinging to him. My face buried in the crook of his powerful neck, lips parted on his warm skin, tongue licking the drops of sweat dewing his skin.
We stay like that for a long moment, breathing hard, tangled together. My pussy and his cock still pulsing in rhythm.
Finally, he cups my face, kisses me, tucking me deep in his arms.