“You. Inside me. Now.”
I withdraw my hand and position myself at her entrance. One thrust, and I’m buried to the hilt.
I pull almost all the way out and slam back in. She cries out, and the sound goes straight to my spine. I set a pace that’s punishing, driving into her with enough force to rock the headboard against the wall.
Sasha matches me thrust for thrust, rising to meet every stroke. Her nails rake down my back as she demands, “Harder!”
I hook one of her legs over my shoulder, changing the angle, and she screams. The new position lets me hit deeper, and I feel her starting to clench around me.
“That’s it.” I reach between us and find her clit. “Come for me.”
“Don’t stop?—”
“Never.”
I circle her clit while driving into her, and she shatters. Her whole body goes rigid beneath me, then convulses as she comes with my name on her lips. The feeling of her pulsing around my cock destroys what’s left of my control. I bury myself inside her and let go, emptying into her with a groan that comes from somewhere deep in my chest.
We lie there tangled together, both breathing hard. The surveillance reports are crumpled beneath us. My phone is somewhere across the room, probably already filling with angry messages from Adrian.
I don’t give a damn about any of it.
“I’d blow my cover a thousand times,” I mumble against her hair, “for moments like this.”
Sasha props herself up on one elbow and looks at me. Her hair is a disaster. Her lips are swollen. Hickeys are already blooming on her neck.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t.” She puts a finger over my lips. “Don’t ruin it with words. Just let me have this.”
So I pull her against my chest and hold her while afternoon light spills across the bed. The mission can wait. Adrian can wait. Everything can wait.
27
Sasha
Boris drops a file folder on the conference table, and the name on the tab makes my stomach turn.
“Ivan Abaturov,” he announces to the room. “Fifteen years with the family, trusted with every financial record we have, and he’s been feeding information to Adrian Belmont for at least six months.”
Dmitri stands at the head of the table with his arms crossed. Alexei is beside him, and Tony sits across from me. We’ve all gathered in the compound’s secure meeting room for what Boris promised would be a breakthrough in the mole investigation.
“You’re certain?” Dmitri asks.
“The pattern is undeniable.” Boris flips open the folder and spreads several documents across the table. “Every time Tony files a report with Adrian, Ivan accesses related files within seventy-two hours. He’s cross-referencing, filling in gaps, and confirming details that Tony provides. He has no legitimate reason to access these accounts in the first place sincethey’re fabricated. Couple that with the timing, and I’d call it irrefutable.”
I should be focused on this. Ivan’s betrayal affects everything we’ve been working toward, and exposing him means we’re one step closer to ending Adrian’s operation for good.
But my mind keeps drifting to last night.
I woke around two in the morning and couldn’t fall back asleep. When I wandered out to the compound’s interior courtyard for fresh air, I found Tony sitting alone on one of the stone benches. He looked hollowed out, like something had scraped him empty from the inside. I almost turned around and left him to his privacy, but he spotted me before I could retreat.
He’d had a night terror. Chechnya again, he said. The faces of the men he lost.
I expected him to dismiss me or change the subject. Instead, he asked me to sit with him.
We didn’t talk about Adrian or the investigation or any of the danger circling our lives. He asked me what I wanted to do when all of this was over. What kind of life I imagined for myself.
I think my brothers have been assuming I’d stay close to the family. My colleagues at Christie’s assumed I’d come back and continue my work. But Tony wanted to know what I wanted, separate from everyone else’s expectations.
