Chapter 14 - Izabel
In the morning, I wake up with a smile on my face and the heat of his skin against mine. My back is curved against his chest as I lie snugly tucked against him.
I shouldn’t be here. Obviously. I should be protesting this and demanding to be let go. I should be fighting to go home and trying to escape this…this man.
But here I am, snuggled against his perfect body, wrapped up in his strong arms, breathing in his masculine scent and utterly lost in it all.
I stretch my legs out and arch my back as I yawn softly, trying not to disturb him. Last night I slept better than I have in a long time, and the dreams were endless. I wish I could remember them now, but I do remember them being good.
He doesn’t say anything to let me know he’s awake, but his arms tighten around me and draw me closer to his chest. A low, deep moan vibrates from his chest up against mine as he pulls from sleep into the real world.
He lets out this satisfied sort of grunt, and I giggle.
“Good morning,” I whisper in response.
My body is humming against his, remembering all the amazing things he made me feel last night. Images of the shower flash through my thoughts, and I smile.
It seems he has the same idea as he wakes a little more, and his hand drifts slowly down my body. His cock is already hard against my ass when he nuzzles his face into the curve of my neck and kisses my skin, sending goosebumps dancing over my shoulders and down my arms.
***
I’m laughing loudly as he carries me downstairs, slung over his shoulder. “Put me down, I can walk,” I complain without really wanting him to put me down at all.
“Mm. You could. But you might try to escape. I can’t risk it,” he says sternly, but the smile in his voice gives him away.
I punch my fists against his ass, pretending to fight him.
“Actually, that feels like a massage,” he tells me.
In the kitchen, he sets me down on the counter, wrapped in nothing but his bed sheet. “What if someone comes in?” I complain, trying to pull the sheet up.
“What if someone saw my wife naked?” he says, horrified, his brows shooting up as his eyes narrow. “I’d have to kill them,” he mumbles dangerously.
“Oh shush,” I laugh, swinging my legs playfully as he chuckles on his way to the coffee machine. He flicks it on.
“I’m starving,” he says, tugging the fridge open.
“I can make bacon and pancakes?” I say, moving to wiggle off the counter.
“Don’t you dare move,” he warns me. “I’m making breakfast for us.”
I wiggle back to where I was and watch him.
It’s not the first time I have a moment of guilt spin through me. Guilt because I should not be having fun. I should not be enjoying this as much as I am.
And last night, in the shower, I could explain that away if I wanted to. I could say it was a mistake, something that built up and just happened in a desperate moment where I lost control.
I can’t say the same for this morning.
This morning was slower, more intimate. It was sensual and playful.
I chose to be with him again.
And watching him comfortably make us breakfast, humming to himself, I know I will choose the same thing later.
We eat in the kitchen. Anton leans against the counter next to me and eats pancakes from a plate in his hand. I sit talking to him about my favorite breakfast when I was a kid with a plate of pancakes balanced on my lap.
“Just cereal?” he asks, shaking his head. “Plain old Froot Loops?”
“They aren’t plain, they are colorful and fun!” I say, horrified he would say such a thing about my favorite breakfast.
“I’m not sure. I feel like your favorite breakfast should be something more adventurous,” he says thoughtfully as he takes a bite out of his pancake.
“Well, maybe I haven’t tried enough breakfasts yet. Maybe I need to travel the whole world and try breakfasts everywhere before I choose a favorite.”
“Exactly. Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he nods excitedly, his enthusiasm making me giggle.
The problem is that it’s not just about the sex. Even though…dammit, the sex is mind-blowing in ways I didn’t know were possible. It’s not only that making me so attracted to him…
He makes me laugh. I’m genuinely having fun.
Our conversations flow so easily, and nothing between us feels forced or awkward in any way. We drift between serious topics and playful ones with ease.
He’s smart, funny, brilliant, and attentive. He listens. He shares. He genuinely seems to want to know about me. He asks me about what I like and what I dream of.
The bottom line is that I haven’t had this kind of connection with anyone before.
It’s strange to find it in the man who kidnapped me, but who am I to judge or question what’s happening? Last night, when I was falling asleep, I decided to just enjoy it for whatever it is. So, that’s what I’m doing.
Anton sets aside his empty plate and stands between my legs, pushing them apart so he can get closer to me. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to the edge of the counter. His lips find mine, and the kiss has my heart racing the moment his mouth locks over mine.
He leans back, looking down at me as he gently brushes hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “What do you feel like doing today?” he asks. “We can order in, stay in bed all day, ignore the world?”
“It’s very tempting, but actually…”
“You have something else in mind?” he cocks his head to the side as his hands rub gently up and down my thighs.
I’m expecting him to say no, but I have to try anyway.
“I wanted to go to the warehouse that got attacked,” I say with my eyes wide. I suck in my cheeks and stare at him, pulling a little face of hope and expectation as I wait for his immediate dismissal of my idea.
What I expect him to say is that it’s too dangerous and blah blah, all of those things.
“Why do you want to go there?” he asks, catching me by surprise with a genuine question instead of an argument.
“Oh, um. I wanted to see it and see if the people who work there are okay,” I say, answering honestly.
“My workers are okay; it was mostly the product that got messed with. There were a few injuries, but…” he narrows his eyes as I continue to stare at him.
“Okay, fine. We can go,” he says after a quiet moment. “But you have to promise to listen to me. If I feel at any point that you are in danger, you need to be obedient.” It’s something about the way he says obedient that has my body spiking with desire all over again.
“Okay, but before we go, I need to shower,” I grin at him, letting the mischief sparkle across my face without restraint.
“Funny that, I was just about to take a shower myself,” he muses, scooping me up in his arms to carry me upstairs.
***
His warehouse looks just like any other as we pull up in the parking area outside.
Anton walks around the car to open the door for me.
He holds out his hand to pull me from the car, but then he doesn’t let go.
Instead, he slips his fingers through mine and holds me at his side as we walk towards the building.
My curiosity is piqued. I’m not even sure what to expect, but I'm expecting some kind of chaos inside.
But when we walk through the high corrugated doors, both sliding open wide enough to allow a truck to enter, I am shocked to see absolutely no trace of the attack that happened very recently.
My eyes dart over the people and the crates as they move to and fro.
“Anton,” a man lifts his arm and waves for Anton’s attention. I realize I recognize him and smile and wave at Yaroslav.
“Yaroslav, how are things going?” he asks, walking over to greet the man.
“Izabel, I hope you’re well,” Yaroslav says with the slightest hint of a smile. He is such a serious man. I think this is the first time I’ve seen his expression change other than when he thanked me for getting Anton home safely that night.
“I am,” I say with a nod.
He turns his attention back to Anton. “We’ve got everything cleaned up and additional security set up here and at the other locations."
“And the men who were injured?” I interrupt.
Yaroslav looks at me with a frown before glancing at Anton, who nods once.
“The men who were injured have been tended to. The doctor was here all of yesterday. Some of them are off resting at home, others are back at work today. All in all, the injuries were not too serious, given the suddenness off the attack. We are lucky.”
“Everyone is okay?” I ask.
“Yes, Izabel. Anton’s first priority was taking care of the people who work for him. It always is and always has been that way.”
I glance at Anton. He smiles at me. I didn’t expect everything to already be so sorted out. It hasn’t even been that long.
“It’s because I have help from men like Yaroslav,” Anton says, slapping his hand against Yaroslav’s shoulder. Yaroslav doesn’t melt under the compliment. He just grunts.
“I’ve got things to do. Shout if you need me,” he says, then walks away.
I giggle, shaking my head. “Not a man of many words, is he?” I muse.
“No, not at all, but he’s invaluable to me. I don’t know where I would be without him. Do you want to look around? A tour?”
“Yes, please.”
While walking around the warehouse, I’m pleasantly surprised by how many people rush over to him to say hello. Even the men who are bandaged and looking a little beaten down still have smiles on their faces.
“Anton, good to see you. Don’t worry, we’ve got it up and running again.”
“Anton, don’t stress it, man, we’ve got your back.”
“We’ve got a good team!”
“Thanks for sending the doctor to my home to check on my son this morning.”
“My wife made you cookies, they’re in the locker,” the last man says after we’ve moved around the break room to talk to a lot of different people.
“What kind of cookies?” he asks, grinning.
“Lemon and poppy seeds. The best kind,” the rough-looking man says. He has a beard as wild as grizzly bear, looking like he just walked out of the Russian wilderness.
“I tell you what, let me taste one and then share the rest with the guys in the break room.”