14. Alexei
Alexei
Fuck.
The moment Ofelia’s lips touch my skin, my internal battle is lost.
Although it was probably lost the moment I kick-started the Ducati on a deserted beach this morning.
Or even when I first boarded the yacht and told Andrew to set a course south-southwest.
Certainly after I disregarded Mak’s less than subtle warning and continued down the Spanish coast.
Or maybe, I think, as my arms slide around her silk-covered waist and I’m enveloped by the intoxicating scent of rose and almonds, I lost the fucking battle the moment I got on that plane from Miami to Paris.
If not long before that.
“Tell me,” she whispers, and the hot touch of her breath has me so fucking hard I could throw her down on the tiles right now and never regret it for an instant.
Or you could take her with you, whispers the dark bastard inside me, and devour every fucking inch of her in your own sweet time.
I don’t want to say it. I came here fucking determined not to say it.
And yet a moment later one of my hands has slid up to tangle in her hair, my mouth is pressed against the perfect shell of her ear, and I hear a voice that sounds like it belongs to someone else saying, “You could come with me.”
Her head turns into mine, her nose grazing my neck as she slowly nods up and down, and I feel the delicious pressure of her lips against my throat as she says, “I want that. I want to come with you.”
Fuck me.
Just hearing her say I want to come in that low, slightly growly voice makes my cock surge fiercely against my leathers.
I cradle her head, my thumb moving through the long blonde silken strands, my other hand resting just above the sweet curve of her ass, only barely resisting the urge to pull her hard against me and kiss her fucking mind out.
“It’s dangerous.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince.
She shivers as my lips move against her temple, clinging to me like I’m a rock in a storm.
“I don’t care.” Her whisper is hot and fierce against my skin, and if the feel of her wasn’t already enough, her tongue touches my neck tentatively as she finishes speaking, making me want to punch the fucking wall.
My hand slides over her ass, and I pull her gently against me, just enough to make her moan and drive the last ounce of common sense from my brain.
“You can’t come on the bike with me.” My lips move on her head like a kiss, and she ripples against me, making soft little noises that drive me fucking crazy. “Even if I could concentrate with you riding behind me, I can’t risk anyone seeing us. I’ll have someone bring a car up.”
She goes very still, and her hands curl around the lapels of my jacket, her entire body suddenly tense. “Promise,” she breathes against my neck.
Even through the mind-bending haze of lust, I can feel the doubt and uncertainty contained in that single word.
I did that.
That’s all my supposedly noble self-control has ever done: caused her pain.
“Ofelia.” I draw back, my thumbs stroking her jaw, facing her squarely. “I promise.”
When the uncertainty in her face barely changes, I go on, trying to find the words that will reassure her I’m serious. “I’ll send a car this afternoon. The driver will be a woman called Lola. She’s ex-Navy, and just as dangerous as those dragons living next door.”
That earns a shaky laugh.
“And speaking of the dragons,” I go on, “what do you plan to tell them?”
“The dragons will have to come with me, I’m afraid.” Her eyes search my face nervously. “There’s no chance of me going otherwise.”
Fuck.
Privately cursing Roman’s meticulous security, I do my best to keep an even expression.
“Of course.” I say it like Roman won’t shut the entire idea down the very second the dragons call.
“They won’t tell Papa,” Ofelia adds. When I frown, she gives me a mischievous smile. “Teresa and Julia report to Mak, not him.”
A slow grin spreads across my face. “Even better.” I’m not dumb enough to think Mak won’t be watching Ofelia’s every movement, but if I know Mak, he’ll keep the report to himself, unless he has a good reason not to.
I just have to make sure not to give him that reason.
“Where’s your phone?” I ask.
“Upstairs.” She makes no effort to move.
“I need to put Lola’s number in it so she can call when she arrives.” But I don’t move either.
Ofelia’s slender fingers slide around my neck, her touch making me shiver. “Kiss me,” she whispers, color flooding her face, “before you go.”
I know I shouldn’t.
I also know there’s not a chance in hell I won’t.
I draw her face upward, intending to touch her lips with my own, just a taste to seal the promise I’ve made.
Except that when her eyes flutter closed, her lips part beneath mine, and she melts against me in heat and scented silk, my brain leaves the fucking building completely.
The kiss deepens, her ass a lush, ripe curve under my hand, her breasts crushed against me, her mouth so sweet and full I dip into it over and over, until Ofelia is moaning, the blood is roaring in my ears, and my cock is straining painfully hard against my leathers.
“Come upstairs,” she whispers against my mouth.
I tear my mouth from hers with a monumental effort. Staring down at her swollen lips, holding her hard against my throbbing length, I give a hoarse laugh.
“Soon,” I say roughly. Taking a deep breath, I release her and reluctantly step away to a safe distance.
“You,” I say, giving her a stern look. “Phone. Now. Go.”
Biting her lip in a way that makes me want to bite every fucking part of her, Ofelia turns and bolts upstairs, giving me a sideways look from the stairs that nearly shatters the last of my resolve.
I take advantage of her absence to call the Quantum Drift.
“I need Lola to hire a car,” I say abruptly when Andrew answers.
“And not a town car. Something inconspicuous. Tell her to drive it to Granada. Yes, today. Immediately.” Now that I’ve made my mind up, I can’t make this happen fast enough.
I give my instructions, then hang up, just as Ofelia comes running back down the stairs, waving her phone at me.
“Stop,” I say warningly, before she gets too close. “Hand me the phone.”
She giggles. It’s the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
I enter Lola’s number, then Andrew’s, but not my own. I don’t want to chance any kind of connection between us. Nothing that could possibly place her in danger.
“Lola will be here as soon as she can. She’ll liaise with the dragons regarding security, so you’d better send her their numbers.”
Ofelia giggles again. “You can’t keep calling them that. Their names are Teresa and Julia, and they’re both really nice.”
“Uh-huh,” I say dryly. Given that I nearly knocked one of them out when I arrived earlier, I doubt we’re likely to be on close terms anytime soon, but so long as they stay out of my way, we should be good.
And once we’re safely aboard, they won’t have a whole lot of choice in the matter.
“Right.” I try not to stare at the long length of tanned thigh extending from beneath the cami shorts, at the nipples clearly outlined under the silk, or at Ofelia’s swollen lips, her taste still lingering on my own.
Fuck. I need to get out of here.
“I’m going next door to talk to the dragons.” I back away from her before I can’t. “Lola will call you when she’s on her way.”
“And I will see you,” Ofelia breathes, her eyes shining. “Soon.”
“Yes.” I open the door and step out into the blazing sunshine, feeling something dangerously like happiness spread through me. “Yes, you will.”
I ride toward the coast at breakneck speed, my body raging.
Despite whoever is currently determined to kill me, the fact that I’m in the country illegally, and the very real risk I’m about to incur the wrath of Roman Borovsky, it’s hard not to feel almost deliriously happy.
There is no world in which Ofelia joining me on the Quantum Drift is a good idea.
And there’s no world in which it isn’t going to happen.
Maybe it’s the isolation of the last few days sailing south, without the normal distractions of work, the swamp, and life in general. Maybe Mak’s request has given me a legitimate reason to delegate the hunting of Miami’s vermin to someone else, for the first time in many years.
And maybe it’s because the memory of Ofelia’s body under your hands and mouth has become an obsession.
One that haunts every moment of every day, either waking or sleeping.
I considered turning back to Ibiza a hundred times on the way south.
Imagined heading into one of the island’s famous nightclub districts and losing myself in any number of the beautiful women to be found there.
I know there’d be no shortage of aspiring actress-slash-models who’d be more than happy to indulge my every sexual fantasy in exchange for a sybaritic cruise down the Spanish coast on a luxury yacht.
I also know that sleeping with a thousand such women won’t even come close to eradicating the memory of Ofelia’s body beneath my own.
Besides, I tell myself as I lean hard into the tight curves of the mountain road, maybe this is what needs to happen, for us both.
Maybe it’s just unfinished business, this thing between us. A hangover from a traumatic experience that several intense days in bed will finally lay to rest.
But not even my mental gymnastics can rise to that level of self-delusion.
I sailed the Quantum Drift south because I knew I had to see Ofelia again, soon, before the thoughts of her drove me fucking mad.
And because after that night in Paris, she deserves more, much more, than simply being ghosted.
Much more, huh? And what, exactly, does that look like, asshole?
But since even thinking of what that might look like makes my cock harden instantly, I lean into the wind and drive the bike harder and faster toward the coast, unsure whether I’m trying to outrun my twisted mind or racing toward my darkest fantasies.