In his arms, my heart full and fearful to bursting, I understand what I have to do. I understand that there is only one way to protect Nik’s life, to possibly save Maya’s, and to satisfy the blood debt between my father and Yvan Lebedev.
But before I do anything, I need to feel Nikolai. I need to have him. I need to be his, because this may be the last chance either of us ever gets.
“Zane—”
I slide my hands into his curls and pull his mouth down to mine. He meets me without hesitation, hungrily sliding his tongue into my mouth, his arms wrapping around my waist, heedless of his injury. We stumble back, my hips meeting the kitchen counter. In one smooth movement he hoists me up, hands confidently sliding my shirt over my head.
Every ounce of fear leaves me. In its place, a calm, blazing passion overtakes me, and I lean into it like a trade wind, letting it carry me.
I pull Nik’s shirt over his head, leaning back and feasting on the sight of him. His body is beautiful, sculpted, veins lifted powerfully against gleaming skin, every inch of him corded with lean, dangerous muscle. His wounded arm makes me grimace, but he hardly seems to notice the pain, and his lips taste deliciously of whiskey.
More. The word pounds in me like a pulse.I want more.More of him. More of this. More than anything, I want more time. I want to know him. I want him to know me. I want to explore what we could be, how free, how beautiful, how fuckinghappy.
And after tonight, I know that will be impossible. So there is only this. Us. This moment. It’s everything.
Nik’s fingers deftly unclasp my bra, his warm, calloused palms cupping my breasts. They’re immense, a perk of my full figure, and the hunger that overtakes his expression makes my body hot for him. My lips part as his thumbs circle my nipples, as they harden against his rough skin. He bows his head, sinking gentle teeth into the tender place beneath my ear. A moan escapes my lips as his hand slides into my pants.
He finds me easily, as though this is something we’ve been doing together forever, as though he knows every inch of me as well as he knows himself. His fingertip finds my clit, circling smoothly, evoking a husky moan from my lips. I arch my back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as his mouth drops lower, trailing soft kisses down my neck, my collarbone, my shoulder. His lips find my nipple, taking my breast into his mouth.
Fuck. Electricity floods my body. I writhe, my hips moving of their own volition, craving the skilled movements of his fingers. He plunges one inside of me. I gasp, spreading my thighs wide, practically panting as he fingers me. His tongue, hot and wet against my nipple, and the confidence of his hands ignites the blaze of a slow, flooding climax. My moans are ragged, desperate, and this time, he doesn’t cover my mouth to silence them.
The ecstasy leaves my muscles loose, my bones heavy. I smile as Nik lifts his head. He reflects it, his own devilish and shadowed. “I really want to make you scream.”
His confidence, and the bare hunger in his face, have me wet for him immediately. He pulls me off the counter, catching my mouth with his. We stumble toward the bedroom. I explore his body with my hands, the powerful arch of his back and the smooth, hard planes of his chest. My back hits the bedroom door, and I use the reprieve to wrap my hand around his hot, stiff cock.
He grunts, leaning back, his eyes fluttering shut as I pull him free and drop to my knees.
“Jesus,” he growls, as I wrap my mouth around him. I take him deep into my mouth, savoring the power of having him here like this, utterly at my mercy. Utterlymine, bound to me by history and want andlove. The fake marriage is nothing. It’s secondary. This—us—we’re what was destined. Somehow, we were always going to end up together. As briefly and chaotically as colliding stars, maybe.
But it’s enough.He’senough.
I trace his head with my tongue, delighted when his hands thread into my hair, catching tender fistfuls. I let him guide me up and down his length, his stiffness filling me with anticipation. I want him in me.
Now.
As if reading my mind, Nik pulls me to my feet, kissing me deeply. I let him guide me to the bed, falling back. He already has my pants around my ankles, and neither of us can wait.
In one confident motion, he plunges inside of me. I cry out, sinking my fingers into his shoulders, arching my back to take him fully. He groans, bending low to kiss me. He draws out and thrusts back in, sliding one hand down my thigh, guiding my legs around his hips.
It’s bliss. My sense of danger is gone. The knowledge I have of what awaits us outside of this room is gone. There is nothing but this. Him, me. Impossibly in love, our bodies surrendered and animal and steeped in mindless pleasure.
He buries his face in my breasts, hot, rough palms gripping my ass as he fucks me. I hear myself as if from a distance, crying out, ragged and blissful and lost to the pleasure of his body inside of mine. My hands are buried in his curls, my back arched, pushing my breasts toward him. His tongue seeks my nipple, sucking hard as his rhythm begins to quicken.
He meets my eyes suddenly, the fever in his possessive and gut-wrenchingly sexy. The sight of me seems to trigger his pleasure, and his thrusts become deeper, harder. Pleasure buds inside of me, spreading like slow tongues of flame. I meet his eyes as I come, hard and sudden, like plunging off of a cliff. I cry out, eyes locked with his as he comes, his breath ragged and groans heedless.
I welcome the waves of pleasure as he spills himself inside of me. Then he collapses, both of us gasping for breath. He kisses my forehead, rolling off of me and lying breathless at my side.
“Wow.” It’s not even close to enough to encompass what I’m feeling. What word is? I twine my fingers through his, the edges of my mind still hazy with pleasure. “That was…”
“Yeah.” He chuckles, then grimaces. I sit up, eyes adjusting in the dark. His bandages are wet with blood. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I need to redress those.”
He smiles up at me, as though his wounds are an afterthought. One hand rises to stroke my hair. “You’re so beautiful.”
His words cinch tight the knot of dread building in my chest. I know what I have to do.But he can’t. I place my hand over his, kissing his palm. “You are.” I let him gaze at me a moment longer. But only a moment. Because time is of the essence. “Come on. I need to clean that up.”
15
