Chapter 22
NIK
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
What I should be doing is texting Dominic to let him know that divine intervention just handed me a miracle. Because somehow, Leanna Campisi, the precious, untouchable daughter of Don Campisi, is asleep in my bed like some raven-haired goddess dropped straight from the heavens.
Magically, the woman I literally intend to kidnap is already in my grasp.
Apparently, though, God’s got a twisted sense of humor. Because while He’s gifted me this perfect setup, He’s also made damn sure I’m completely, hopelessly fucked in the head about it.
Because this is Ana.
My Ana.
The woman who haunts my dreams.
The woman I’ve tasted. Felt beneath my hands. Heard moan my name, felt her quiver at my touch. Every inch of her has already been etched into my memory, and yet… standing here, naked, in front of me, she’s more than I imagined.
Those long, lean legs. The perfect curve of her breasts. Supple lips.
That thick, dark hair cascading down her back. My restraint falters even as I tell myself to stay composed.
I knew she would be beautiful. Hell, I didn’t even care if she was, because the feel of her, the taste of her, was enough.
But she is perfection.
And those eyes. They are striking. Hazel, I think, is almost yellow. I’d give just about anything to see them up close, to count the colors swirling in them.
Every instinct I have screams to reach out—to claim, to protect, to tear down every wall I’ve ever built between us. But that’s the torture, isn’t it? She’s mine in memory, mine in the ways that matter, and yet right now she’s completely untouchable.
I actually chuckle out loud because what are the odds that I’m stuck sharing a room with my enemy’s daughter… and I’m standing here, hard as a fucking teenager, like some idiot caught between lust and logic.
She left the door wide open. That scrap of silk she was wearing lies in a puddle of molten silver on the floor. She’s stepped into the shower now, and I’m frozen like a trapped animal.
Is this a trap?
But I think I hear…humming?
This is the way sailors die at the hands of sirens.
But fuck it.
I need to shower anyway.
I believe her, I think, when she says she didn’t know who I was.
I don’t think she was a plant by the Campisi organization. I’m not stupid enough to believe the organization doesn’t know about Ahren, that it’s Barkov-owned. But I do believe they don’t know I’m the owner. I keep that very discreet, even among the staff.
And if she were a plant, she’d have had any number of opportunities to make a move against me.
She was, or is, kind of innocent. She seemed earnest in her desire to get to know me, to share herself with me. That’s what makes this all feel… different.
Still, it seems impossible that this is all a coincidence. That she just happened to walk in on me that night at Ahren. That she just happened to come back week after week. The Campisi heir, just waltzing into a Russian club on a dare, just happened upon the Barkov heir in a vulnerable position.
My heart and my brain are out of sync.
What’s more, I’m not accustomed to my heart playing any kind of part in any decision I make, save for those regarding the protection of my sister.
I’ll have to puzzle this out later. Time is short, and I’ve got a Commission meeting to attend. Still, might as well have a little fun finding out.
I pull my t-shirt over my head, then follow with my shoes, socks, pants, and boxer briefs.
Two can play this little game. Let’s see how Leanna reacts when I call her bluff.
I step into the steam-filled shower. Heat clings to my skin, mixing with the faint scent of her hair, damp and glossy down her back.
Leanna faces me, expression carefully blank, but nothing escapes me.
The slight rise and fall of her chest, the hardening of her nipples, the faint blush creeping from her collarbone to her cheeks… every subtle sign of arousal sends a jolt through me.
It takes everything I have in me to keep my hands off of her.
“Did I invite you in here?” she asks, voice low, teasing, almost daring me.
“Mmm,” I hum, letting my gaze linger. “Depends on what you consider an invitation. An open door is usually fair game.”
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t give in. “Well, I suppose there’s room for two. I’m letting you in… just saving us both a fight we won’t have time for today.”
I grin. “Clever. But you know, I don’t lose easily.”
She shoots me a defiant glare, but full of heat. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
She grabs a washcloth and runs it under water before pumping body wash onto it. She washes herself, then, rubbing the fabric deliberately over those glorious breasts, down that flat stomach, between those shapely legs.
I want to groan, want to grab that cloth, and offer my assistance.
“I could wash you,” I murmur, letting my voice drop lower, raspier. “With my tongue.”
She bites her lip, glancing away, pretending to be composed. But the way she shifts under my gaze tells me everything.
I step closer, letting my broad frame brush hers. Fingers graze the soap selection behind her, tauntingly pressing into the space between us. My lips accidentally find her ear, and she lets out the smallest gasp that makes my cock respond immediately, hard and needy.
She’s inexperienced, I can tell, unsure of her power but trying anyway. She’s testing me, testing herself.
And it’s fucking wild.
I lather my body slowly, calculatedly, making sure she sees every stroke, every curve, every taut line of muscle. My hands trace over my chest, down my abs, lingering over the hardness between my legs.
Her eyes darken with need, that bottom lip caught in a way that tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
I make no effort to hide it. I’m hard, aching, and exposed, and she can see it all. She knows I have control, knows I decide when, and if, I’ll give in.
But that control doesn’t make me want her any less. In fact, it exacerbates the situation. I want her, and I don’t hide it.
Her body is perfection; how could I not be hungry for her?
Her skin is silky smooth. Her curves are in all the right places. I know this body like a roadmap by now; I’d know it blindfolded.
“Want to take over?” I ask, teasing, my accent thicker the more aroused I get. I look down at my cock and lift an eyebrow.
She scoffs. “No.” Yet her hand drifts to the soft, wet heat between her legs, pressing lightly, teasing, the tiniest brush of her fingers making it clear how much she’s aching. She squeezes her thighs together, just enough to torture herself—and me.
“Suit yourself,” I murmur, but my voice betrays the tension building inside me.
Her bold glance meets mine, eyes glimmering with fire and want. My control frays at the heat radiating off her. I want to close the distance, press her against the tiles, show her exactly how dangerously close she’s pushed me.
“You’re teasing,” I growl, almost accusing, voice thick with need.
“I could say the same,” she whispers back, voice trembling.
The space between us shrinks. Every brush of skin, every shallow inhale, every stolen glance coils tighter around my gut, setting my blood on fire. I can taste her desire in the steam, feel it in my veins, thrum through every muscle.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, malyshka,” I growl, voice rough, nearly breaking. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
She swallows hard, heat flaring in her cheeks, yet her fingers linger, teasing that small, perfect spot, and I lose what little control I thought I had—my body hums with need.
I take a step closer, letting the heat of my body press into hers. The steam swirls around us, masking the rapid thump of our hearts.
She’s daring me, and I can’t decide whether to punish her or reward her.
I tilt my head under the spray, running my hands through my hair just slowly enough for her to see the flex of my muscles, the swell of my chest, the hard line of my cock.
Her cheeks burn with color, and her eyes go hooded and lustful.
I’d be willing to bet that if I slipped a finger through her folds, I’d find her wet with more than just water.
Fuck, I really want to touch her, to feel that wetness.
Her gaze finds mine, and I hold it, drowning in those spectacular eyes, full of greys and greens and embers. Memorizing the way her pupils dilate.
She’s the first to look away, and I use the opportunity to let my eyes roam her body.
Her nipples are small and peaked, poking my eyes. I want to lick them. I think I could make her come just by giving each one the attention it deserves.
My body is humming with energy and hunger.
I want her.
Badly.
Every muscle aches, every nerve demands it. And yet, I step back, letting the steam between us mask my restraint.
I’ll have her, no doubt, but it won’t be now, and it won’t be like this.
She glances back, eyes wide, and I can see the hunger, the frustration mirroring my own. I wink. A tease. A promise of what’s to come.
I wrap the towel around my waist, deliberately slow, letting the damp fabric cling just enough to remind her, and me, of everything we’re denying ourselves.
“Gonna be a long day, Princess,” I murmur, voice low, husky. “Game on.”