24. Chapter 24
We got back to the hotel and the minute the door clicked shut behind us, Isabella toed off her socks and shoes before flopping backward onto the bed like she’d just finished a marathon. I followed, settling at the foot of the mattress, my back resting against the carved wood of the footboard.
She didn’t say a word. Just shifted and stretched her legs out. Then her feet landed in my lap. I glanced down with a smirk. Her toes flexed once. Twice. The soft pads of her feet dragged lazily over my thigh and drifted higher.
Lightly and teasingly, she wiggled the damned things across my cock.
My eyebrow lifted. Her eyes were closed, dark lashes resting against her cheek like she was exhausted.
But the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth gave her away.
Her toes brushed over the front of my jeans again, a subtle glide that made my stomach tighten.
“You’re bold,” I muttered.
She wiggled them once more in silent confirmation. I caught one of her ankles before my mind started down the path of a foot job. I dragged her foot fully into my palm instead.
“Peopling is so hard, Pasha,” she huffed.
Her fingers went to her temples, rubbing. Up close, I noticed her nails were painted a deep, glossy red—sharp, perfectly shaped. They matched the ones on her toes. Dangerous. Every inch of her was.
“You handled it well,” I said, kneading my thumb into the arch of her foot. “How was the bookstore? Did you really buy a romance novel written by a man?”
“Yeah,” she said, cracking one eye open. “Tori swears not many men can pull it off. Worst-case scenario, you’ll enjoy it,” she teased. “It has lifestyle elements in it.”
“Liar.” I scoffed.
Her response wasn’t verbal. She got up, reached into the bag, and sensually walked back over to the bed. I shook my head. She lobbed the book at my chest and took her position again.
Once more her feet found my thigh and trailed up until they caressed my dick. Again.
“The Bratva’s Stolen Princess?” I read incredulously.
I was expecting something sleek and dark. The cover made me bark out a laugh. This was not what I had in mind. Some tatted guy who looked like he was about to cry, moody as fuck.
“Oh yes,” she said. “Flip it over. Read the back.”
I turned it and scanned the text. I cleared my throat. “From the moment Lev—” I stopped mid-sentence and looked at her. “Seriously? You found one with my nickname?”
This was not what I was expecting on any level. She said lifestyle, and my mind immediately went to BDSM. This was classic Isabella.
She examined her fingernails, pretending disinterest. “It practically screamed at me.”
I narrowed my eyes as her toes wiggled. Little fucking tease.
“Keep reading, it gets better.”
“From the moment Lev saw McKenzie—” I paused again, rolling my eyes while she tried and failed to hide her grin.
She bit her lip. The name was close enough to Kinsley to make me chuckle.
“From the moment Lev saw…go on,” she prompted.
I cleared my throat. “From the moment Lev saw McKenzie, he wanted her.”
She burst into laughter.
“But McKenzie was promised to another. What’s the second-in-command to the Malenkov Bratva to do?” I read on.
“What indeed will he do?” she mocked dramatically.
I continued reading, “Steal her, of course. But now that he has her tied to his bed…oh, okay this got interesting. Now…he will do anything to keep her.”
I glanced up. She was watching me, lips curved, eyes gleaming like she’d just handed me a loaded weapon.
“There is more,” she challenged. “Kenzie has a whole section, too.”
Once more I turned my attention to the back of the book. “All McKenzie wanted was to feel cherished, his lips on hers. His arms around her. But she gets off teasing him. The stranger with dark eyes and tattoos consumes her.”
I stopped for a fraction of a second. Dark eyes. Tattoos.
“She has one big problem, though,” I drawled. “She’s promised to another man. And now that Lev has ruined her, her family will wage a war to get their princess back.”
“Ruined her? You don’t say. I wonder how.” Isabella laughed.
Before I could respond with one of my more than ready, heavily-laced innuendos I was famous for, her foot pressed forward.
Again. She was pushing her luck big time.
My body reacted before my brain could catch up.
I sucked in a breath and immediately tossed the book aside before she registered what she’d done.
I caught her ankle and dragged her feet back into my lap.
“You’re a menace,” I muttered, massaging her arch with soft pressure.
She blinked innocently. “What? I was just stretching.”
“Yeah, your aim is way off, princess.”
Her lip twitched as she shrugged. She reached for the discarded book, flipped it over, and propped herself up on one elbow.
“You skipped the best part,” she said. “The real reason I picked it up.”
“Go ahead, then. Read it.”
She grinned as she read, clearly enjoying every second of this.
“His death is the only revenge the family will accept. As the two forbidden lovers’ passion ignites, they must confront the dangerous forces determined to keep them apart. Prepare to be swept away by a tale of passion, betrayal, and undying love in this dark mafia romance.”
The room felt quieter after she finished. Death. Revenge. Family waging war. For a split second, the teasing blurred with something uncomfortably real. Her brother’s voice echoed in my head.
If you cross the line…
The threat hadn’t been theatrical. It had been sincere. And here I was, reading about a Russian second-in-command who steals a promised girl and ruins her. A full circle moment if I’d ever had one. Life imitating fiction.
“What do you think?” she asked. “You going to take it down to the beach and read it?”
“I think I will,” I said, studying her. “Maybe there’s some insight I can glean.”
“Tori read a review. Said it’s a one-hand read.”
She shifted, the book resting loosely in her hands. Light from the window traced along her collarbone. I let her foot slide from my lap. Then I moved. In one fluid motion, I climbed up the mattress, bracing my hands on either side of her hips.
Her back hit the headboard with a muted thud. Her eyes widened. I reached up, sliding my hand into her hair, fingers curling at the back of her head. Her breath hitched as her fingers wrapped around my forearm.
“One-hand read?” I murmured, lowering my mouth close enough that my words brushed against her lips.
Her pulse fluttered beneath my thumb. The playful tone was still there. But something deeper had slipped underneath it. Something both of us recognized. She swallowed, determined to commit to the bit.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s in reference to the steam factor. While reading certain scenes, one might find themselves…”
She trailed off. Color crept up her neck, flooding her cheeks in a slow, undeniable pink. Her mouth opened, then closed again as she recalibrated. Watching her process whether to retreat or charge forward was fascinating.
“Go on,” I demanded.
“You know what I’m trying to say,” she countered, eyes locking with mine.
There it was again—that innocent mask she wore like armor. I frowned, letting disappointment settle over my features.
“But I want to hear you say it,” I growled. “Now be my good little princess and—”
She blurted, “Flick the bean, paddle the pink canoe, audition finger puppets.”
I froze for half a second. Then…lost it. I released her and fell back onto the mattress beside her, laughter ripping out of me. The first two I’d heard before. The last one? Totally new. The visual was too much.
She laughed beside me just as hard. Probably felt freeing in some way to shout it out like that. After a moment, I turned my head to look at her.
With the laughter slowing, she rolled toward me, her palm settling on my chest. Her fingers traced the outline of my tattoo through the fabric of my T-shirt with unsettling precision.
“But that’s not all of them,” she teased.
Her cheeks were still pink, but her eyes had steadied. Her hand drifted lower, then shifted back up. I groaned as her fingertips circled my nipple through the thin cotton. The tighter the circles, the more my body reacted. Fuck, it felt so good. She watched my reaction with open curiosity.
“I also like to call it finger painting,” she continued. “Or a little ménage à moi time. However you say it, self-care is the safest care.”
Her thumb and forefinger zeroed in on my left nipple, and she pinched. Then the little brat twisted. A sharp hiss escaped, and my back arched involuntarily off the mattress as blood shot straight to my cock. Pleasure coursed through me like wildfire.
Catching her wrist, I pried her hand away, breathing through her cute little spontaneous torture session.
“I’m definitely taking that book down to the beach now,” I said. “Sounds like a page turner. The female lead…a bit of a cock tease.” I let my eyes travel slowly over her face. “Sounds like someone I know.”
She smirked.
“And don’t even get me started on the stolen princess angle. Or the wrong family.”
“I know, right? The only thing off is the female lead’s name. Too bad I couldn’t find something closer to…” she paused dramatically, “Hannah, maybe?”
I moved, catching both her wrists in my hands in one smooth motion. I pushed them above her head and drove her back into the mattress. The playful laughter evaporated at her suggestion. I climbed over her.
Her body reacted on instinct—she bucked once beneath me, breath punching out of her as I settled my weight between her thighs. Then she felt it. She couldn’t help but feel me, because the damn thing was harder than steel. The full length of my erection pressed against the heat of her pussy.
“Lev,” she breathed.
My jaw flexed at the name and the sound of it falling from her lips.
“You don’t know when to stop, do you?” I murmured. “Today was reminder enough why I walked away from that girl.”
I leaned closer, not touching her mouth, but damn if I didn’t want to kiss her senseless. “If you’re not careful, I’ll have Tori write you and me into her next book. Full names. Descriptions. Every fucking little detail of what I’d do to you, if we were the characters.”
She shifted again, and this time it wasn’t a reflex. Her hips rolled beneath me. The friction dragged a slow exhale from my lungs.
“Ha…fat chance,” she heaved.
Her pupils had blown wide, blue darkening to something molten. The flush in her cheeks had deepened, but there wasn’t the slightest flicker of fear in her expression. Only want. That was the dangerous part.
I half expected hesitation. A crack in her bravado. But she was a Caruso after all, and they didn’t break easily. She looked me straight in the eye as if to say, ‘take it farther, I dare you.’
She was going to kill me. I started counting to ten in my head and made it to six before she erupted again.
“Tori…she…she writes fantasy and paranormal,” she stammered, breath uneven. “Shape-shifters with knots and aliens with dual…dual…dual—”
Her gaze dropped straight down. My erection pulsed against her clit. I tightened my grip just enough to make a point and get her attention.
“Cocks?” I supplied.
Her throat worked as she swallowed. Watching it only inflamed me more.
“Is that the word you’re searching for?” I leaned down until my mouth ghosted over her lips once more. “Eyes up here, princess.”
She twisted beneath me, still staring down at my dick like she couldn’t help herself. The sight of her mouth parted like that did me in. What would it feel like to slide into her warm, wet mouth and watch her gag on me?
Tired of fighting it, I dipped my head to finally kiss her—and my phone exploded between us. Sebastian’s ringtone cut through the room like a damn alarm. I exhaled through my nose, ignoring it. Ignoring him.
“And if you’re that curious about dual cocks,” I murmured against her lips. Her tongue flashed and then retreated before I could capture it. “We can find a sex shop in town. I’m adaptable, not to mention flexible. I’d be happy to accommodate you for a little DP or maybe some DVP once you’re ready.”
The ringing stopped and blessed silence followed.
“DP? DVP?” she choked.
“Um hm. Double penetration. That’s one in the front and one in the back. Care to take a guess at what the v is in DVP?”
Her eyes widened. Not playful anymore. They flickered straight to where our bodies were still pressed together. My phone sounded once more. Her eyes moved to the pocket. She knew who it was.
And that was when a flash of fear showed. But it wasn’t for me. It was because of him. Her brother. I gave her one final, deliberate grind of my hips before releasing her wrists and rolling off.
“Hey, Brother,” I answered smoothly. “We’re getting ready to head down to the beach. What’s up?”
A pillow smacked the back of my head. I whipped around. She was sitting upright now, hair wild, cheeks red, fury simmering. I bit back a grin and crossed to the dresser. Last night I’d clocked exactly where she put everything when she unpacked.
I pulled open the drawer and fished out the red bikini I’d seen. Sebastian once more launched into threats.
“I know,” I mumbled. “We aren’t. There’s a couch in here. I sent you a photo. Do you need a fucking walk-through as well?”
I had, in fact, sent him a picture. Just not of this room. Kinsley’s loose lips had forced my hand. I grabbed one from the hotel’s website—different room layout, different setup. Close enough.
God help me if he asked for the walk-through. I let the bikini bottoms slide between my fingers. The thought of it on her had my jaw tightening. But none of Sebastian’s warnings said I couldn’t appreciate the view.
I grabbed my swim trunks and shut the drawer with my hip. Sebastian transitioned into work updates, his tone shifting from murderous to managerial. I only listened to half of it.
With a smirk on my face, I walked back to Isabella and dropped the bikini in her lap. She looked down and then back up. I covered the speaker with my palm.
“Feel free to Google the nearest sex shop,” I whispered. “Pretty sure we passed one this morning. I’ll borrow Chase’s car.”
She huffed, “In your dreams. I’m not losing my virginity to a damned piece of silicone.”
She punctuated her sentence with her middle finger. “And this isn’t over,” she added, eyes flashing. “Not by a long shot. You think you won. It’s just getting started. This is war.”
I pressed my phone back to my ear. “I’m shaking,” I deadpanned.
Then slowly, I reached for the button on my jeans. She squeaked—an actual squeak—and bolted for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
I laughed under my breath. Sebastian was still talking.
“Yeah,” I muttered into the phone, staring at the closed door. “Everything is under control.”