Chapter 10
ZORA
The crowd is louder than I expected, roaring this deep, feral sound that comes from the chest of every man pressed against the barriers around the ring.
I've been to fights before but never one this energized.
I can see why the Kuzin fights are surpassing our family ring in popularity.
It isn't just the skill of the fighters.
It's the atmosphere, and this place really sells the craft.
Kazimir sits beside me watching every movement inside that ring like his life depends on it.
When we went out before, he was so locked on me, tuned in even, but here I can see another side of him.
This is his business, and one he apparently takes very seriously.
It's sort of a turn-on to see how focused he is.
"Who's fighting next?" I ask, leaning closer so my shoulder bumps his. I don’t want to be the annoying girl who asks too many questions.
Besides, I know all about fighters and how these things run.
But I don't know about his particular club and how he works things.
Being my first time here, I know my brothers will expect me to have juicy details.
"Rostik…" When turns to look at me, the determined look on his face fades into a smile. It's so noticeable, I'm sure every person around us can see how attracted to me he is. "He's one of ours. Shaved head, big guy, hits harder than anyone on the card tonight."
"And the other one?"
"Out of Yekaterinburg. He's a good fighter, but Rostik's been training for this for six weeks." He rests his hand on my thigh and squeezes once. "You're about to see something special."
"So, you run this?" I ask, pushing the envelope slightly, but not enough to make his senses rise. I'm just a woman asking a man she likes about what he does for a living, and I have to play that card well or he'll get suspicious. "How many fights do you run a month?"
"Depends on the season. Right now, we're doing two or three cards a week, but the boss will be out of town soon for his honeymoon.
It might change then." He leans back in his chair and relaxes.
His chest puffs out a little like he's proud of himself.
"I'm running the whole operation while he's gone.
" I definitely detect a hint of smugness in his tone too.
"That's a lot of responsibility." I smile at him, resting my hand on his bicep as a physical gesture of my feigned emotion. If I convince him I'm impressed, he gets a rise out of it.
"It is." He grins. "But I'm good at it."
He's bragging and he doesn't care because he wants me to see him this way—in charge, capable, trusted with everything. And the thing I wasn't prepared for is that it's actually working.
I blush and bat my eyelashes instinctively, really working the moment and milking it, but it isn't hard to fake.
I didn't realize when I walked into that hallway at the gala that I'd run into the second in command.
Makar wasn't wrong for pushing me toward Kazimir.
If we can't get to Roman, Kaz really is the next best thing.
I think he's going to say something to me, but Rostik enters the ring and the crowd loses its mind.
The man is enormous—shaved head, thick neck, hands wrapped tightly, and when the bell rings and he starts fighting, it's impressive.
He pounds the opponent so many times, so fast, I think he may win in under a minute.
Kazimir leans forward and his hand tightens on my thigh, and I can't help but feel warmth spreading up my leg.
"He's incredible," I tell him, but I'm not watching the fight. I'm watching him.
"He's the best we've got." Kazimir looks at me and his eyes drop to my mouth for a second before coming back up. "But it's hard to focus on this fight when you're distracting me so badly." His grin makes me blush.
"Am I?" He's a smooth talker, trying to flirt with me.
Once again, it's working. I'm a weak woman.
I didn't realize this job would require so much self-control.
I really like this guy, and I find myself being unfocused and worrying more about what he's thinking about me than I am the task I'm supposed to be doing, gathering information.
"You know you are." His thumb traces a line on my thigh, and the heat from his hand spreads up through my hip and into my stomach. "It's those goddamn legs…." His eyes sparkle as he locks gazes with me, and I wonder if he's feeling as turned on as I am.
"Maybe I like distracting you." I lean in and press my lips against his ear.
"Maybe I've been thinking about what we'll do after the fights since you asked me to come with you earlier today.
" And I have. After last time, my body is ready for him, aching to feel that incredible again.
Kazimir knows just how to get me worked up and then how to quench that thirst too.
He turns his head and his mouth is an inch from my ear when he growls, "You're making it very hard to concentrate on my job right now."
"Then finish your job and take me home," I mutter, but the ache between my legs doesn't want to wait for his job to be over.
I want to sneak away somewhere right now.
Still, I have to respect this is his job, and I have to try to focus on gleaning information I can report back to my brothers safely.
The last three fights blur together as I watch, distracted by the way he's touching my leg.
And by the time the final bout ends and the crowd starts to drain out of the venue, I'm wound so tightly that when he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet, the contact alone sends a current through my whole body.
Twenty minutes later, we're through his front door and his mouth is on mine before I've kicked off my shoes. His hands are on my waist, pulling me into him, and I grab fistfuls of his shirt and walk him backward until his back hits the hallway wall.
"I've been thinking about this since the second fight," I say against his mouth.
"I've been thinking about it since I picked you up." His hands slide down to my ass and grip hard, lifting me onto my toes. "Those jeans have been killing me all night."
"Yeah?" I bite his bottom lip and tug. "What about them?"
"The way they sit on your hips." He runs his thumbs along the waistband, dipping under the denim, his fingers hot against my skin. "I've been staring at you for four hours trying not to lose my mind."
"You should've said something sooner."
"I'm saying it now," he says as he spins me around and presses me face-first against the wall, his chest flat against my back, his mouth on the side of my neck.
His hands come around my front and pop the button on my jeans and drag the zipper down, and his fingers slide inside and press against me through my underwear.
I groan and my forehead drops against the wall. He's barely touching me and my hips are already pushing back into him.
"You're soaked," he says against my ear, and his vibrates through my spine. It makes my body temperature rise to approximately the temperature of the sun.
"That's your fault" I say, pushing my ass back into his pelvis where his dick is rock hard.
"Good." His fingers push my underwear aside and when he makes contact with my clit my whole body jerks. He holds me steady with one arm across my stomach and works me with two fingers in circles that tighten with every pass.
"Kaz, God…"
"Tell me what you want."
"Don't stop." Every time he rubs over my swollen bud it makes me jolt.
He presses harder and speeds up and my knees buckle, but his arm is so strong holding me up. I haven't even taken my clothes off yet and he already has me ready to split open.
"Fuck, you're so fucking wet." His fingers slide lower and push inside me and the angle from behind is different—deeper, fuller, his palm grinding against my clit every time his hand moves.
"Right there," I breathe. "Right there, don't move, don't change anything."
He curls his fingers and strokes that spot inside me while he keeps his palm pressed tight against my clit and neck and shoulders start to tense. The orgasm builds from my center outward, rolling pressure that tightens and tightens until it snaps.
My walls clamp down around his fingers and my mouth opens on a moan pours out of me.
I couldn't hold back if I tried. My legs shake and my hips buck against his hand and I feel my wetness flood his palm.
Every tiny twitch and jolt makes me feel like I may collapse but he holds me through every wave, his arm locked around me.
His mouth presses against my neck, murmuring filthy things until the last convulsion fades and I sag against the wall gasping.
Then he pulls his hand free and I hear him lick his fingers. The sound alone makes me clench again.
"Holy fuck," I groan, sucking in a deep breath to loosen some of the tension in my chest that lingers. I lean against the wall hard until Kazimir takes my hand.
He pulls me off the wall and we stumble down the hallway with our mouths colliding.
His hands find the hem of my shirt and yank it up and I lift my arms so he can pull it over my head.
It hits the floor somewhere behind us and his palms are on my bare stomach, sliding up my ribs, thumbs tracing the underside of my bra while he walks me toward the bedroom.
I reach for his belt and unbuckle it without looking, pulling the leather free and letting it drop.
He groans into my mouth when my knuckles graze him through his jeans.
I pop his button and he kicks out of them between steps, one leg then the other, and nearly trips over his own feet.
I laugh against his lips and he bites my bottom lip in retaliation and the laugh turns into a moan.