“Moya koshechka.” He says a deluge of words in Russian, mixed in with strangled praise and love in English. And my name. I’ll ask, and I’ll learn his language, but right now I don’t need to know exactly what he means. I can hear the emotion.The love is in every gruff word and passionate touch. I know that he’s pouring out adoration and obsession.
I open my legs wider and strain to dig my heels into his firm buttocks. We’re connected as intimately as two people can be: him ramming into my body, and overflowing thoughts in my mind.
“Come inside me,” I urge him. “Take what you need.”
His hands tighten on mine, and he shudders. Then he lifts his head from where he was kissing me, and then he’s scraping his gaze over my face before staring right into my eyes.
My heart balloons with love for this man, and as though he was waiting to be looking into me, Brody’s movements go ragged. Those grey eyes of his shimmer with ribbons of colour in the low light.
His cock swells even more, before he thumps hard into me and stops, yelling out his release as he pumps wet heat deep in my pussy, right up against my womb.
To get me pregnant. To breed me, exactly as he promised.
For a second he has no control left, just collapsing, resting all that delicious bulky muscle of his body onto me. He presses me into the covers, his cock lodged all the way in, my legs wrapped tight around his waist. And the rumours are right. This man is the Dark Angel. That’s the only explanation. He might crush me to death, but I don’t care one bit. Being this close to him is everything I’ll ever want.
He groans and rolls over scooping me with him until I’m laid half next to and half on top of him and we lie there, spent, our breathing gradually slowing to normal. Since I’m spread over him, his come seeps onto his thigh, and with a growl of disapproval, Brody pauses in caressing my waist and bottom, and reaches down between my legs.
“That stays in,” he rumbles as he pushes it back into my pussy. I giggle, because of course that doesn’t work, andeventually he gives up with a grumpy huff that is so typical of this man, and says, “I’ll put more inside you.”
I sit up enough to trace over his chest with my hands. He’s so utterly gorgeous. He watches me with hooded, hungry eyes.
“I can’t believe I can touch you.” I think of all the days I yearned to see him like this. To be familiar with the big, gruff man who filled my thoughts.
“You always could.”
“Really?” I check his face, and his expression is gently amused.
“All you ever had to do was ask. That was my only condition. I wasn’t going to let you go, but neither was I going to take anything you didn’t ask for.”
“I could have asked,” I say in wonder. And I, stupidly, told myself I would never request anything because I was convinced he didn’t want me.
“Da.” He nods again, voice sincere. “What else do you need, moya koshechka? You have all the time in the world to tell me. I’ll give you anything.”
“A baby,” I say with a touch of fear, despite everything that’s just happened. What’s said during sex could just be talk, right? “I want a family.”
“Already certain. I was quite serious about that.” He digs his fingers into my side, possessively and my heart melts with delight. “What else?”
“I want to see you smile.” It’s a frivolous request, but he’s the most important thing to me. I’m desperate to see him pleased.
“Easy.” A slow, content smile spreads across his face like snow melting in the sunshine. I take it in greedily even as I return it.
“Oh god, I…” I shake my head, laughing, disbelief and wonder bubbling through me. “I want that smile on tap.”
“It’s only for you,” he murmurs. “As is this.” He reaches to the side of the bed where he discarded his trousers and feels around until he withdraws a solitaire diamond ring.
My mouth falls open.
“Hand,” he demands softly, and I obey. As it slides over my knuckle, it’s like the click of a lock. I examine it from every angle as Brody looks on indulgently.
I’m engaged to a mafia boss. I couldn’t be happier.
It’s many thank-you kisses and distractions later that we’re lying together again, this time facing each other on our sides.
“What about the rest of the Italian mafia? There were more than two of them, right?” I ask. “Do I need to hide out here?” Not a hardship so long as Brody is with me.
“Not fully dealt with,” he concedes. “I still have the head of the snake to cut off.”
It’s the answer I dreaded, and yet, for all his bloodthirsty ways, I trust this man. He tended my wounds. He saved me. However dangerous he is to others, he’ll be the best husband and father. I don’t doubt that for a second.
