It had to be the heat. He was so warm, human. His fingers fluttered over my nipples. My breathing became ragged, almost moans with each exhale as I rocked my hips and took more of him inside me.
My fingers latched around his wrists, held him in place. My rhythm sped. I’d just told Alexei I wasn’t a patient woman. I’d made it all the way through my undergrad without sleeping with a guy. I wasn’t in the mood to take it slow.
“Ugh,” Alexei groaned, face pinched. He shook his head. “Don’t worry. A little pain’s not going to stop me. I’m fine. More than fine.”
“Yes, you are,” I breathed and found my rhythm again, a beat slower.
He relaxed under me. His hungry eyes took me in. Their intensity sent me burning. If he hadn’t been injured, this moment would have played out differently. He saw life as a game and always wanted to be on top, literally and figuratively.
Worthy adversary I was, I enjoyed my wins, the control of this moment, but my pace sped with images of sex with an Alexei in peak shape. Those pornographic flashes: us in the shower, my leg on his shoulder; him looming over me on that giant bed, my wrists held above my head in his hold; they thrust me over the edge.
My hips shook as the pleasure took me. It burst through me. My hands snatched tighter around Alexei’s wrists.
“And you thought I’d forget about you,” Alexei whispered and thrust his hips upward. A pained groan escaped his lips before he continued. “I’m going to start plotting to steal you again the moment you step off my ship.”
Those burning intense eyes of his bore into me. His hips thrust again. With each movement, pain laced his breath. He wanted this, us, to make the discomfort worth it.
We slapped together with each of his pounding movements. They sent more waves of pleasure through me, kept me on that high. But even men like Alexei had their limits.
With one last burst, he froze, holding his breath. His whole body relaxed with his exhale. Inside me, he spasmed but even that relaxed. Alexei’s eyes fluttered, his expression drooped.
Part of me wanted to shake him. He’d been ready for round two so quickly the last time. Of course, he hadn’t been shot then. I shook him for another reason.
“We should get you into bed,” I said before shifting off him.
Standing without moving one of your legs wasn’t easy, even with a partner. Once on his good leg, he hopped to the side of the bed with my support. He dropped to the mattress, never letting go of me. I hadn’t planned on sleeping anywhere else.
16
Alexei
The engine’s hum died and my eyes opened. I’d always been a light sleeper. Living on the boat most of the time, that came in handy. You always needed to know when something went wrong.
It seemed I’d slept heavier than usual. Nobody lay next to me. My hand slid over to where she’d last been. Warm, but only just. I’d missed her leaving the bed. Could she have been involved in the engine cutting off?
I shook my head to answer my own question. After last night, she didn’t need to escape anymore. If she decided to go back home, I’d let her walk right off the ship back in Ostia. But then where was she?
The curtains blocked out most of the morning light. Only faint lines peeked through at their seams. Another light of line appeared under the head’s door.
I rolled over into her fading warm spot. Her scent mixed with the sea perfumed her pillow. My eyes closed and sleep almost took me before I remembered what had really woken me.
The wound on my leg throbbed when I rolled to the edge of the bed. Before I even set my good foot on the deck, I discovered the cut engine wasn’t the only thing wrong.
The deck creaked to my right. Something moved in the dark. I sprang to my feet, almost biting my tongue at the pain but I faced the threat. Electricity crackled behind me. I swung my arm, but froze almost immediately.
Pain cackled from my ribs. I couldn’t move. When the bite of it receded, I found myself head down on my bed. Cold cuffs clicked over my wrists behind my back. Who? Franco’s men?
More pain, my wounded leg this time, when my captor yanked me off the bed. Another man stood in front of me. He dressed near enough to Franco’s team at the cruise ship, in black tactical gear. He had a Roman nose but kept his lips shut in a sneer.
“I believe it’s customary to knock,” I said in English.
The first instinct in a situation like this was escape. Handcuffed, barely able to stand on two feet, my prospects against at least two men were not favorable. They’d been in the room lurking when the engine cut. Whoever they were, they had more than just two men – even worse odds.
The smart play would be to get more information and frustrating your captor. They’d expect a naked and injured man with his hands cuffed to be cowed, scared of them. I’d disappoint them and hopefully find out what had happened to Pavel and Oleg. And Gianna.
For a brief moment, that first instinct called to me. If they had me, they had her too. I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her, take her from me.
Instead of responding, the man behind me pushed me toward the side door. I bit back a wince with every other step. The man with Caesar’s nose pushed the door open but never took his eyes off me as he stepped over the threshold.
