I gasp, arching my body further toward him, burying my fingers into his shoulders. Pleasure bursts through me, turning my insides liquid, my blood to pure fire. As soon as I’ve gotten used to the delicious pressure of him inside of me, he slides free.
“Nik,” I manage, my voice thick with desire. He doesn’t leave me waiting. Instead he plunges himself back inside of me, a hungry grunt leaving his lips.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Nik growls, his lips against my ear. “How long I’ve dreamed of fucking you.”
His words make me impossibly wetter. I never knew he thought of me like this. Rewriting our long history, considering that all this time he’s wanted me, wished for me, fantasized about me—it’s mind-meltingly hot.
“Now you are,” I whisper, sliding my hands into his hair. “It’s not a dream.” I lift my hips, sliding back down his shaft, taking him deep. Pleasure courses through me, dizzying and delicious. “This is real, Nik.”
“Yes,” he says. “You’re real.”
“Yes,” I moan, starting a smooth, deep, deliberate rhythm. “And I’m yours, now.”
His hands slide down my body, settling on my wide hips. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp as he deepens his thrusts. I sag against the wall, clutching him desperately, my mind dazzling and bright and liquid with want. Everywhere his palms touch, my skin burns. And the faster he moves, gradual and deliberate, the shorter I know I’m going to last. His cock strikes me deliciously deep, stroking the source of my pleasure in a way that makes this feel utterly unreal.
“Look at me,” he orders, and I obey. His emerald eyes are bright, his lips parted, dark hair curling and sweat-damp.
The eye contact sends me over the edge. I ride his rhythm, matching him thrust for thrust, clutching his body to mine as we both mount toward climax. I can’t look away from him. His eyes, the fever and passion in them, are an anchor. I cling to him as my ecstasy breaks its limit, flooding my veins with wild pleasure.
I hear myself crying out, and I taste him as he places a hand over my mouth to muffle my cries. It only serves to heighten the orgasm. His body is rigid as he comes, his grip deliciously tight.
And when we’re both done, I fall against him, gasping. He holds me, strong arms braced against the wall, my thighs locked around his hips.
“I knew it,” he murmurs, his voice velvet and hot against my skin. “I fucking knew you were going to be trouble.”
I know he’s right. That after this, we’ll have a much tougher reality to face. But for now, I forget that there are consequences. For now, I just smile.
11
Nik
My heart is still racing when we emerge. We’ve done our best to make ourselves look presentable, but a wary eye would know exactly what just happened between Zane and I. Luckily, Maya seems distracted. And she’s alone.
“Where’s Fitz?” Zane asks, her voice just an octave too high. She quickly snags Maya’s beer and downs it, eyes flashing, amused and feverish, to mine.
“Gone.”
Zane straightens. “What? But we need—”
“They’re meeting us. Tonight.”
Alarm bells go off in my head. I don’t like that Maya’s orchestrating anything, much less behind our backs. Not that it’s her fault Zane and I just got tangled up in our business in the bathroom. “Where?” I ask simply, trying to keep my anger and suspicion in check.
“Where do you think? Lebedev’s HQ.” Maya gives me a mean, sharp smile. “What’s the matter, Nikolai? Don’t trust me?”
“Not even a little.” I return her smile, and her eyes narrow. “What’s the plan?”
“I take Zane in, pretending I’ve caught her and killed you. And you and Fitz show up once we’ve got Lebedev in a compromising position.”
I don’t like it. It’s too easy. And I can tell by looking at them that both Maya and Zane agree.
“And that’s it,” I say, instead of arguing or voicing my doubts. I can’t afford to be scaring Maya off now, especially not when she’s our only tenuous connection to the Irish. “We trust your ex and his guys to have our back? Enough to put down whatever security Lebedev has in place?”
“Yep.” Maya orders another beer. It occurs to me that she’s less perky than usual, a little less composed. There’s definitely something she’s not telling us.
Well. Two can play at that game.
