Chapter 4 #2
"You know," I say softly, "if I wanted to know who you really are, I could find out.
I have resources, people who specialize in finding information that people don't want to share.
I could dig through your background and find every inconsistency, every gap in your story.
" I pull her down slightly, thrusting my hips up to meet hers.
The hard length of me presses against her, and I hear her sharp intake of breath.
Feel the heat of her even through our clothes. "I could make you tell me," I hiss.
Her hands move to rest on the back of the couch, either side of my head. Her face is close to mine now. Close enough that I can see every fleck of color in her dark eyes. We're sharing breath, sharing space, sharing something that feels like truth.
"But I'm not going to do that." Despite the heat of her body, goosebumps cover her skin. I want to trace every single one with my tongue. "Do you want to know why?"
She shakes her head. Barely moves.
"Because I think I already know," I say.
"And because I think whatever you're doing, you have your reasons.
And those reasons are probably good enough that I'd do the same thing if I were you.
" My heart has stopped beating. Or maybe it's beating so fast I can't distinguish individual beats anymore, just a constant hum of adrenaline and something else.
Something that might be hope or fear or both.
"The question is," I continue, bringing my hand up to cup the side of her face, "whether you're actually capable of doing what needs to be done, or whether you're just a girl playing at revenge."
"I can do it," she says, and her voice is quiet but certain. Deadly. "I know what I'm capable of."
"I believe you," I say. And I do, because I'm going to help her do it. Then I close the distance between us, pulling her head down and crushing her mouth to mine.
The kiss is intense, demanding, like I'm trying to consume her.
Like I'm trying to claim something that was always meant to be mine.
My hand at the side of her face pulls her closer, and she responds.
Her fingers grip the back of the couch. Her entire body responds to me in a way that bypasses thought, that's purely instinctual.
I lick the seam of her lips and she opens for me.
She tastes like everything I've been missing without knowing it.
Like hope and danger and home all mixed together.
My other hand finds her waist, sliding up slowly to cup her breast, keeping her body aligned with mine the entire time. The position is intimate in a way that goes beyond the physical. She's exposed, vulnerable, giving me something she doesn't give to anyone else.
And fuck, she feels perfect. Fits against me like she was made for this. Made for me.
She starts moving against me, thrusting, grinding, and it takes everything I have not to rip her clothes off and fuck her right here. Instead, I break the kiss, breathing hard, trying to regain some control. My cock is so hard it's painful as she throbs against me, hot and wet.
"Yes," I growl, raising my other hand so I'm palming both her breasts. Perfect handfuls. Her nipples are as hard as diamonds, and I pink them between my thumb and forefingers.
She cries out, and I feel her body clench, feel her legs shaking as she comes. Just grinding against me with our clothes still on. So responsive.
I groan with her, my cock pulsing, nearly coming in my fucking pants like a teenager.
Barely managing to hold back. Slowly, I press my lips to hers one last time.
Soft. Gentle. Then pull away before I do something stupid like tell her I'm in love with her.
That I've been obsessed since the moment I saw her. That I'd burn down the world for her.
My forehead rests against hers for a moment, and we just exist in that space, the space between everything we are and everything we're pretending to be.
"You're going to be the death of me, aren't you," I say quietly. Then I stand, pushing her off me gently but firmly, needing distance before I change my mind about letting her leave.
She backs away, keeping her eyes on me, and I see her mind working. Trying to process what just happened. Trying to understand what this means.
I reach into my jacket, and she tenses like she's expecting a weapon. Instead, I pull out an envelope. Thick. Heavy with fifteen thousand dollars, give or take.
I hold it out to her. "Take it."
She takes the envelope, peeks inside, then looks up at me with confusion written all over her beautiful face.
"Call it a tip," I say. "Or call it an investment. Call it whatever you want, but take it and use it to do what you need to do."
"Why?" she asks.
I can’t help but smile. "Because sometimes the best thing you can do for something is to let the people who want to destroy it have their way.
Because I've been bored, and you're interesting.
" I adjust my still-hard cock in my pants, letting her see what she does to me.
"Because your sweet little pussy just came all over me and I can't wait to do it again.
But next time, I'll be inside you." I walk past her to the door, then turn back.
One more thing she needs to understand. "Oh," I say, "if you do manage to accomplish what you want, if you manage to actually go through with it, there will be consequences.
There will be people who come after you.
People who won't be forgiving and who won't give you a chance to explain yourself. "
"I know," she says.
"Do you?" I ask. "Do you really understand that the moment you do this, everything changes? That you can't undo it, can't take it back? That you still have to live after? After your very purpose for living no longer exists?"
"Yes," she says. "I understand."
She's lying. I can see it in her eyes. She hasn't thought past killing the Pakhan. Hasn't considered what comes after. What she'll do when the rage that's been driving her for ten years suddenly has nowhere to go. But that's fine. I've thought about it. I've thought about what comes after.
What comes after is me.
"I think you're both brave and dumb," I say, shaking my head.
"And I'm not sure which one worries me more.
" Then I leave before I do something idiotic like tell her I'm in love with her, that I'm going to make sure she survives this.
Or that after she kills the Pakhan, after the rage burns out and the dust settles, I'm going to be there.
I walk out of the club into the night air, my cock still hard, my heart still racing, my mind already planning the next steps.
I just funded a vendetta that will tear apart the organization I've spent fifteen years building.
I just committed treason for a woman I've known for less than a week.
And I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Because she's mine.
Was always meant to be mine. And I'm not letting anything—not the Pakhan, not the Bratva, not even her own desire to kill me—take her away from me.
I climb onto my bike, starting the engine and thinking about the way she looked when she came. About the sounds she made and how she's going to look when I finally get her underneath me, on her knees before me, on top of me. I shake my head to clear the lusty thoughts.
I now know I have a new purpose in life: I'm going to spend the rest of my short life making sure she never has to be afraid again. Even if that means destroying everything I've ever known.
I drive into the night, already counting the hours until I can see her again.