Chapter 25
Rafaela
Love.
I’d done the unthinkable. I’d admitted my love for Kazimir, no longer keeping the dangerous secret to myself.
That’s the only way I’d been able to survive for the three long years.
Or maybe my anger that he’d disappeared, however ridiculous the sentiment was, had kept me from embracing what had been there from almost the minute I’d met him.
A part of me had expected his distrust, but not to the degree he’d shown me. I also hadn’t desired to show him I was damaged goods quite so soon.
If ever.
There’d been no choice.
And I’d been ashamed, horrified that he’d push me away.
As he rose to his feet, to both see and feel his anger ebbing from every pore in his body should frighten me, yet he wasn’t furious with me.
He was enraged at my father. I could see the wheels spinning. I could tell what was on his mind and for so many reasons, I wanted him to lash out. If that made me a horrible person, then so be it.
Very slowly, he shook his head, even more deliberately placing his warm palm against my cheek. “No one will ever… ever hurt you again.”
I believed him.
With his chest rising and falling, his formerly polished look appearing disheveled, I knew in my heart I loved him more than I had before. The way I was feeling was crazy. Reckless. Unsustainable, but I didn’t care. He thought I was beautiful. He wanted to be with me.
Even as he lowered his head, pressing his lips against mine in a gentle, sweet kiss, my pulse continued to race. Would he always feel that way? Or would the reality of so much betrayal tear us apart once again?
I wanted to convince myself that at least for tonight it didn’t matter. I’d dreamt of his touch so many times. I’d fantasized about the moment I’d see him again and I’d been certain that was going to happen. I’d walked into a room, finding myself searching for him because of a remarkable scent.
His aura had lingered in my dreams long after I’d been told he was dead. And the softness of his lips coupled with his possessive hold assured me otherwise.
How was it possible we were here together at this moment? So much electricity rocketed through me, tingling every synapse. His lips were demanding, mine yielding without question.
The lust was incredible, yet at the moment he rolled his hand over my shoulder, my entire body stiffened. Even my breath hitched. While the kiss was as possessive and rough as I knew he could be, the way he brushed his fingers down my damaged skin was incredible. I’d never felt so alive before.
His tongue dominated mine, the vibrations setting my mind and my world on fire. The years missed needed fulfillment. I ripped at his shirt, managing to yank the hem from his perfectly pressed trousers.
My hunger was off the charts, so much so I found myself pushing one hand on his chest. He chuckled and offered a quick glance.
“Does my baby want something?”
I had to let go, to fly free. This was everything I’d wished for.
I’d prayed for.
His question was laced with promise. I struggled with the buttons while dragging my tongue across my bottom lip.
“Yes. Everything.” I managed to unfasten two buttons and was so desperate to touch him, I yanked the shirt enough a third button popped.
With a curt laugh, I dropped my head, darting my tongue across the heated skin of his abdomen.
“Everything. Then you shall have everything you want.” He wasn’t in the mood for wasting any time, yanking the knot of his tie, ripping it from around his neck. Mere seconds later, he tore the shirt over his head, the look in his eyes carnivorous.
The sexy Russian could not hide the real man, the predator that he’d been born and nurtured to be. He certainly wasn’t willing to waste any time either, barely allowing me time to rub my hands down his chest before cupping both breasts.
Our past sins collided with the present, my mind a wondrous blur as he pinched my nipples. While he was creating an ebb and flow of needs, I was yanking on his belt.
He didn’t seem interested in waiting any longer, kicking off his shoes before bending over so he could easily suck on first one hardened bud then the other. There was such an intensity between us that the next few seconds were nothing but a tremendous blur.
I pushed him away a second time, challenging him with my eyes. He was amused, likely because I’d gone so easily from weeping to experiencing a full-fledged attack of desire. Sadness lingered, hiding behind a charred veil of lies. But I kept telling myself tonight was deserved.
He didn’t allow me to waste time removing the remainder of his clothes, doing so within seconds. When he was fully naked, he allowed his lust-driven gaze to fall to my toes. I could sense his hunger as well as the same level of despair that had consumed my days and nights.
But the way the edges of his top lip curled was telling.
He was doing exactly as I was, shoving aside all aspects of reality.
His moves became rough and needy, lifting me off my feet.
Even as I wrapped my legs around him, enjoying the feel of his huge, hard cock throbbing against my stomach, I remained rattled.
The amazing suite had an incredible view of the Eiffel Tower. As soon as he lowered me to my feet, he cupped both sides of my face. “I will eventually give you the world.”
There was something so breathtaking about the way he pressed his lips against my forehead before turning me to face my favorite romantic object. With the lights shimmering across the monument’s surface, water from the fountain easy to see given our closeness, I was instantly at peace.
I was also able to see his reflection in the glass, the additional lights of the city below providing a different perspective of the two of us. For so many reasons, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Perhaps I was most fearful he was merely another detrimental vision and nothing else.
But as he whispered words in Russian, sweet terms of endearment and every one of them I could understand, I pressed both hands against the window’s surface.
Using his knee, he eased my legs apart while pushing my hair over my shoulder.
I sucked in and held my breath. There’d been no one to soothe my welts, no one allowed to touch me after the whipping my father had given me.
I’d suffered for days, my mother finally disobeying my father by taking me to the doctor.
A man who’d asked no questions. A man who’d provided ointment and some advice.
Advice I’d needed at the time, his care and distrust of my father becoming important later. Since then, I’d allowed no one to touch my scars.
Until now.
The way Kazimir brushed his fingertips down and across the marks ripped at my heart and the fear that I’d built into layers over the years. But it was as if he was peeling them away, exposing the unblemished skin underneath.
He was tender, yet his reflection was a clear indication of what he was thinking, what he had planned and the level of brutality he would use.
His chest rose and fell, his breathing as labored as mine and when he finished tracing every inch, every blemish, he gripped my hips, pulling them away from the glass. The way he nuzzled into my neck allowed me to relax, his words exactly what I needed to hear.
“Even more beautiful than before.”
He returned his hand to my lower back, the mischievous smile I’d grown to adore all those years ago returning as he slipped his hand between my legs.
I shuddered as he curled his fingers, sliding them back and forth.
The sensations were wild and electric and within seconds, I was riding his long fingers.
All while I was igniting my core, he was studying me in the reflection, as if he was refreshing his depleted memory bank. Much the same way I was doing. In a world of monsters and men, there was no longevity, no promise of tomorrow. There were death and violence, the only two constants.
I knew that as well as he did, which was why so many lived recklessly.
Now I understood Kazimir better. He refused to allow anyone to tell him how to live his life.
He switched hands, freeing his right while slickening the fingers of his other. As soon as he thrust three inside my tight channel, he brought his palm down against my bottom. The effect was as jarring as it was a powerful aphrodisiac. Yet I was startled, even scratching my nails down the glass.
“What are you doing?” I don’t know why I was bothering to ask. I knew the answer.
“Whatever I want.”
His eyes continued to sparkle in the shimmer of light while his smile became even more playful. I sensed his anger lingering just underneath. He was rekindling both the fire of passion and the one fueling his rage.
Which was why I knew his soft caresses wouldn’t last for very long.
Another crack of his hand confirmed my suspicions. Maybe I should hate the rush of discomfort, but I was so wired, so on edge that the controlling discipline kept me grounded.
Perhaps he knew exactly what I needed, smacking my bottom while moving from one side to the other four more times. The sting was almost as powerful as his gentle touches, keeping my skin burning with desire, my core already overheated.
While continuing to pump his flexed fingers deep inside, he continued the light spanking.
The pain quickly morphed into sheer pleasure, which was so strange in so many ways.
After he’d just discovered the mental and emotional turmoil I continued to live with, the fact he was freeing me by offering controlled punishment was wildly cathartic.
I was so wet, every inch of my body so hot that I felt consumed by fire. I kept my palms pressed against the glass, pushing back as if I was asking him to be harsher.
He obliged, the sharp snap of his wrist as delightful as the heat of his body being so close. The moment was so pleasurable that I was swooning, lost in pure bliss. How was that even possible? But it was, leaving me floating on air.