Chapter 28
IVAN
My arms lock around her waist out of instinct, but it feels too right, too natural, like she belongs here and nowhere else.
My heart thuds against her breast as I look over her head to where Boris and my men are doing a very unconvincing job of pretending they’ve all gone suddenly blind.
I wait patiently until I catch their eyes. One sharp look is all it takes. They leave quickly, the door shutting behind them, and the suite is ours.
“You’re back,” she whispers against my chest, her voice muffled by my shirt. Soft. Almost shy.
My hand slides into her hair, the silky strands clinging to my fingers like they know whose hand it is. I stroke once, slowly, savoring the feel of her scalp under my palm. “Yeah.”
Then I grab a handful of silk and pull hard enough to tilt her face up, needing to see her. That’s when the necklace snags my attention. My necklace. My chest clamps like someone shoved a fist through my sternum and squeezed. She’s wearing it. She accepted it.
She catches me staring, and her hand lifts to the pendant. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She says it like she’s surprised she hasn’t mentioned it already, like the words have been sitting on her tongue waiting.
“Not as beautiful as you.” I lower my head to claim her mouth.
Her lips part sweetly, welcoming me, and I groan as my cock stiffens. My grip tightens in her hair, the room narrowing to nothing but the press of her and the taste of her mouth.
Her tongue flicks against mine, teasing, and I trap it between my teeth, sucking until her moan rattles right down my spine. My cock throbs against her stomach, and I pull her hair harder until she gasps.
“I’ve been waiting all morning for more of you,” I rumble, unable to contain myself any longer.
She presses into me, her arms winding around my neck, her body molding to mine like she can’t get close enough, and I answer by sliding my hands down her back, over the curve of her ass, and lifting her off the floor. Her legs snap around me, heat and softness clamping tight, and I carry her.
“Have you been waiting for me? Or have you been busy getting into trouble again…”
I walk us straight towards the nearest wall and slam her back against it harder than I meant to.
The impact shakes the frame hanging beside us, and it drops, hitting the floor in an explosion of glass and splintered wood.
I curse, loud and vicious, glaring at the mess.
And she giggles. Actually giggles. The sound bursts out of her like she can’t stop it, light and real and completely unguarded.
My cock is straining almost unbearably, but somehow hearing her laugh like that does worse—it fucking hurts. It digs under my ribs and twists something inside I don’t want touched. My heart.
And suddenly I want more of that sound. I want to keep it, hoard it, claim it as mine, because I don’t want anyone else hearing her laugh like that unless I’m the one pulling it from her.
The thought pisses me off, so I shove it down and kiss her, crushing my mouth over hers. One hand grips her hip while the other yanks at her waistband. I hate that I have to put her down to strip her, but I force myself to release her.
The second her feet touch the floor, I’m tearing her pants and panties off, dragging them down her legs roughly.
As soon as they fall, she kicks them aside, and I scoop her back up in my arms, pinning her against the wall again.
My fingers slide between her thighs, and the sound I make when I find her soaked is not exactly what I’d call dignified.
I press in slowly, stroking through her heat, watching her face while I do it.
“You’re so ready for me, Milani. Do you stay like this all day? Wet and aching, waiting for me to touch you?”
She moans into my ear, her fingers clawing into my shoulders. That needy sound shoots straight through me, and I can’t stop myself from biting at her neck, sucking until I know I’m leaving fresh marks on top of last night’s.
“Do I get under your skin?” My voice comes out rough, my teeth scraping along her jaw.
“Yes,” she rasps.
“Good. Because I’m going to sink into you so deep you won’t know where you end and I start. I want everyone who sees you to know you’re mine.” The words leave me like a snarl, hot against her cheek.
She makes me fucking needy.
She whimpers, and the sound fuels me. I withdraw my hand from her tempting wetness and yank at my belt, jerking the leather loose and shoving my pants down just enough to free myself. My cock is heavy in my grip, straining, aching for her.
“You’re fucking mine, aren’t you, Milani?” I growl, grinding against her, the tip of my cock brushing her slick heat.
“Yes. I’m yours. All yours,” she pants, clinging to me like I’m the only thing keeping her upright. Maybe I am.
The thought sets me off. My vision tunnels, red flashing at the edges, and I slam into her in one long, brutal thrust. My whole body shudders, my spine sparking like I’ve been struck by lightning.
Her cry tears through the air, raw and unrestrained.
Her cunt clamps around me, dragging me deeper, her body milking me like it’s starving for more.
The sound of her moans, the way she clings, the heat of her wrapped around me—it’s too much to hold back.
“Mine,” I roar. I drive into her again, picking up the pace. My lips crush hers, swallowing every moan, every cry.
She gives me everything, no resistance, and the surrender alone pushes me to the edge.
Her nails carve into my back as her body arches, her moans breaking into a scream of my name. “Vanya!”
The sound detonates inside of me, and I lose whatever threadbare control I had left, pounding into her as if I can somehow fuse us, like I can make her mine in more than words and marks.
The second she falls apart around me, I go with her, a guttural groan ripping from my chest. My body goes rigid, every muscle straining as I pour my cum into her.
My forehead drops to her shoulder, and for a moment, I can barely breathe through the rush tearing through my system.
I sag against her, chest heaving, her heartbeat hammering against mine in perfect rhythm.
I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to move.
But when I finally ease away, reality slams into me, and I realize why it felt so good.
No condom.
“Fuck.” I grit my teeth, my jaw locking.
She’s still trembling in my arms, flushed and wrecked, my necklace at her throat catching the light with every ragged breath.
And I know—she’s not just under my skin.
She’s buried there. When I pull out of her, I watch my cum leak down her thighs.
She follows my gaze, her eyes widening almost comically before her palm connects with my chest, shoving me away.
“You didn’t use a condom!”
Her anger sparks my own, because I never fuck without protection. And yet here I am, about to explain myself for doing exactly that.
“Condoms were the last thing on my mind,” I bite out. “And you weren’t exactly begging for one either.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and that look is enough. I yank my pants up, then spin away from her with a muttered curse. The walls feel like they’re closing in as my mind scrambles for a possible solution.
Morning-after pills. I take my phone out to text Boris to get some, but my thumb hovers over the screen.
Getting her pregnant would be my best chance at claiming her. Really claiming her. And I consider it… way longer than I fucking should. Another curse slips out as I finally send the text.
“You don’t fucking walk out on me!” Melani snaps behind me. I glance back at her, and everything quiets in my head, my anger draining despite my frustration as she walks bow-legged towards me, still beautifully disheveled. “You fucked me without a condom, and you’re pissed that I’m upset about it?”
I don’t answer. I just scoop her up bridal style. She gasps in outrage and smacks my shoulder. “How fucking dare—you can’t just pick me up when I—"
“You weren’t complaining earlier,” I interrupt, a smile tugging at my lips.
She pauses for a moment. “Oh, so what? Are you not mad anymore? Just like that?” She rolls her eyes at me. The impertinence.
“I’ll get the Plan B pill. We’ll be fine.” I push open my bedroom door and walk us inside, making a beeline for the bathroom.
The corner of her eye twitches. “Pregnancy isn’t the only risk, you know.”
“I’m clean. I never fuck without a condom. Are you?”
She glares at me. “You’re pushing your luck.”
I almost laugh. Instead, my smile widens, and I lift a brow at her. “Is that a no?”
“Of course not,” she mumbles. “Obviously, I’m clean. I’ve only ever had sex with one other man, and that was over two years ago. And we used a condom,” she adds testily, but I barely hear the last part. Only one man?
My grip on her tightens, and a primitive, deeply irrational flame lashes through my chest. “I’m going to erase him from your mind and body,” I vow.
She looks at me, perplexed. “You saying shit like that makes me confused.”
Fitting. Because sometimes I confuse myself when it comes to her.
I had every intention of putting distance between us after last night, after how viscerally I reacted to her.
Instead, I spent my entire drive to Vasily’s browsing for a fucking necklace on my phone.
I went through hundreds trying to find the right one. Nothing but perfection would do.
I set her gently on the edge of the sink counter, then move to the tub and run the taps.
The sound of rushing water fills the room.
I dip my hand in, testing the temperature, adjusting until it’s hot enough to soothe but not scald.
Steam coils into the air, carrying the scent of the soap I pour under the stream, letting it foam up.
When the tub is nearly full, I shut off the taps and turn back to her.
She’s watching me with that quiet, measuring expression she gets. I can practically hear the questions hovering on her tongue, held back for now.
“Get in,” I tell her, my voice low.