by Warren, Rie
Then, turning her back, she quickly reached into the large shower and hit the hot water tap.
Mist formed immediately, rolling out into the bathroom in a hazy fog.
Staring me down as the air clouded between us, the minx narrowed her eyes and quickly shucked off her shirt.
That article of clothing was going straight in the trash.
She wore an unsightly sports bra beneath, which she left on to unbutton and shove down her baggy jeans. Kicking off her boots and toeing off her socks, she shimmied from the denim then flung the jeans at my face.
I withheld a laugh, and then a groan, as more of her figure was unveiled.
The misty air had nothing on my piercing, roaming gaze.
“Everything,” I ordered.
Her lips twisted together, which at least meant she wasn’t backtalking me. But she could’ve stabbed my heart out with the glare she gave me. If I had a heart to begin with.
More warm mist swirled around us, and I flipped on the fan as Jo hastily whipped off the bra and eased out of her panties.
Even though she quickly hid as much as she could behind her arms, I came to full attention.
My cock was about to as well.
I swallowed thickly, astounded the mouthy scarecrow had been hiding a hot body beneath the dreadful clothes.
Fuck.
I had a quick glimpse of her softly rounded breasts tipped by sweet pink nipples. There was a slight curve to her hips, and damn if she didn’t have long coltish legs. I’d only gotten a peek of her pussy, but that one glimpse of downy red fluff atop a sleek smooth slit made something besides rage simmer inside of me.
She was definitely a woman and, even naked, she refused to shrink while I continued to stare.
Naked with just a silver cross on a chain around her neck.
My body became hot, my muscles tense, my dick thickening. The sudden blast of unexpected lust infuriated the hell out of me.
Joanna O’Sullivan was my enemy.
She wasn’t my type at all.
I liked tall stacked blondes, not bratty little bitches.
But the way she stood there, undaunted with all that red hair as wild as she was, she somehow got me even hotter.
I’d thought there was nothing remotely feminine about the girl, not even her name. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I cleared my throat gruffly and moved to collect her discarded gear.
That time, she did flinch, and her hand flew up to protect herself.
I couldn’t help but notice a fan of bruises right along her ribcage.
Gripping her arm, I pulled her closer to me. “How’d you get those marks?”
She shot a scathing look at my hand. “Probably you. From earlier.”
I let her go, and she once again tried to hide her nudity and the contusions.
“I don’t think so.” Something unusual flared through me, unsettling feelings of protectiveness.
“Whatever,” she muttered. “Are you gonna watch me shower too?”
“Da.”
“Argh! Is that all you can say?” She tossed her hair over one shoulder. “Da is what I call my father.”
“You call him yes?”
“It means pa, or papa, in my world.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re really gonna stay while I shower,” she said flatly.
“Yes.” My smile was silky smooth, yet my voice still sounded hoarse. “But you can close the shower door.”
She stomped a foot, and her breasts jiggled. “It’s clear!”
“The glass is frosted.”
With a final huff, Jo did an about face, affording me a primo view of her ass. She stepped into the shower and slammed the door so hard it shivered on the track.
I very nearly laughed at her temper.
My laughter soon seeped away like the water and suds running down the drain.
Through the frosted door, she was a wavery silhouette. But as she leaned back to wet the long curtain of hair, her breasts jutted out and her ass looked nice and plump.
I wondered what she’d feel like all sleek and wet against my naked body.
I snarled, tamping down the primitive lust surging inside of me.
I killed.
I was remorseless, unfeeling, and uncaring about all but my job and my family and the Bratva.
Women didn’t have to carry weapons to be dangerous. They just used their bodies to get what they wanted.
I wouldn’t let Jo affect me so easily.
I would remember her as the raggedy rude kid who’d made a fool of the Bratva . . . keep her out of my head that way.
Yet, as she continued to splash in the shower, I stood rooted to the spot. I should’ve insisted she leave the door open.
She’d probably stay in there until the hot water ran out and her fingertips pruned up just to stay away from me.
For some reason, the reminder of her spiritedness caused a rare smile to slide across my lips.
“Blyad,” I grumbled in the next moment.
Spinning around, I gathered up her clothes and left her to the shower. I needed to get away from sudden inexplicable temptation.
I left the bathroom door wide open though just in case she got any clever ideas about using my razor as a shank or something.
Certainly wouldn’t put it past her after the way I’d humiliated her.
I dropped Jo’s clothes straight into the laundry chute where she wouldn’t be able to get at them again.
Hmm, keeping her naked could be a good deterrent for her bad behavior.
It could also wreak havoc on my sanity if I didn’t allow myself to touch her.
When the shower turned off and she slid out to dry herself, I kept her in my peripheral vision. A glimpse of thigh, the side of her tit, the pretty indent of her waist . . .
A definite tightening of my groin.
I kept my eyes on her through the mirror I stalked toward. I put on a fresh tie, forcing myself to stop thinking of her as a woman.
Jo stepped into the bedroom with a large towel knotted just above her breasts. Her damp hair began curling at the bottom, glowing with deep bronzed red from within. Spiky lashes framed her huge hazel eyes. Yes, there was a lot feminine about her.
My knees are shaking now.
Right then, something big barreled against the bedroom door from the hallway with a loud thud followed by pawing and whining.
Boris.
For once I was grateful for his interruption.
In fact, considering his track record with the women I fucked, chances were he’d terrorize the hell out of Jo.
“What’s that?” the woman in question asked.
Instead of answering, I approached the door, opened it, and moved aside with no small amount of malicious intent.
“Oh! You have a dog?” Jo’s voice pitched up as Boris careened straight for her.
Only this fucking time, the traitor didn’t snarl or growl or bark.
He practically leaped into Jo’s arms as she crouched with the towel sliding open at her thigh.
I watched in goddamn disbelief. Boris scampered all around the girl, and I could’ve sworn she actually giggled.
He leaped up with his front paws on her shoulders, slobbering in her face.
“Down, boy. Easy,” she gently scolded him and nudged him to the floor.
The bastard immediately wriggled onto his back, awaiting belly rubs, and Jo happily complied.
When she told him that was enough, he loped back onto all-fours and panted in her face. She rolled her eyes in an indulgent way then proceeded to scratch him all around his gaping maw and furry ears.
Boris’s hind leg started pedaling, his tail wagging back and forth with a whump-whump.
Unreal.
The dog hated any woman connected to me.
He only tolerated Svetlana and had taken days to come around to Sasha.
Now he was all over Jo, and not like he wanted to tear her limb from limb either.
S
he glanced up while petting him. “What’s his name?”
“Boris.” Then a wry grin twisted my lips when I admitted, “Boris Yelpsin.”
Jo hooted loudly, her head thrown back.
When she calmed, she said, “No way.”
“Afraid so.”
“What kind of dog is he?”
“Mutt.” Orphan. Stray. Just like me.
4
Jo
BORIS YELPSIN? I COULDN’T believe it.
I briefly wondered if Kirill was just trying to make me laugh, but that sure didn’t seem like his MO.
Also, as soon as he said it, his eyes glinted with a first real glimpse of humor and humanity.
He couldn’t be that evil if he had such a big loveable dog.
I expected a man like him to own a killer pit bull or a ferocious Doberman. Not this sweet, mottle-colored furry beast.
I continued to play with Boris, careful to keep the towel covering all my important bits, and it was strange having Kirill watching, for once in a relaxed pose instead of looking like he wanted to rip my head off.
He even chuckled when the dog took a long swipe of his long tongue up my cheek.
Kirill hadn’t looked relaxed at all when he’d forced me to undress in front of him, but that intensity had been different and one hundred percent masculine.
He hadn’t been able to hide his body’s obvious attraction to me, the distinct bulge at his groin growing when I’d stood naked while hot steam poured out around us.
The dazzling fire in his eyes had disarmed me momentarily—a fire that’d been hotter than the mist.
He’d caught me off guard again when he noticed the bruises on my ribs and questioned me about them. There’d been a vicious edge to his voice, although I didn’t understand why he’d care. I mean, he had no problem manhandling me from the moment he’d hauled me from my truck earlier.
“Heel, Boris,” he commanded in that deep smooth voice, and the dog immediately moved to him and dropped back on his haunches.
“Come.” That time, Kirill’s command was for me.
And just like that, I was reminded of my impossible situation with the reprehensible man.
“What now? Are you gonna parade me naked through the nightclub just to prove you have all the power?”
A muscle ticked at the back of his black-stubbled jaw, ire flaring once again in his fathomless eyes. “I was going to feed you. Or would you rather I just let you starve, malyshka?”
“What are my options exactly? Death by starvation—long and painful—or death by your hands, which could be pretty quick if you used your gun.” I stood slowly while he crossed thickly muscled arms over the thickly muscled wall of his chest. “I suppose I’ll eat.”
I guessed he was grinding his teeth together by the way his jaw firmed even more, and then he nodded and beckoned me—and the dog—forward.
“Um, can I have my clothes please?”
Kirill’s cheeks hollowed—was he holding back a laugh?—and his brow hiked up. “Nyet.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sa—”
His hand shot out and he grasped my chin in a cruel grip. “Watch your mouth, Jo.”
I shook free of his hold and refastened my oh-so-fashionable towel. “Fine. Whatever. Lead the way. Unless you’re afraid I’ll stab you to death with my eyes behind your back.”
Once again, and out of nowhere, it looked like Kirill was fighting an amused reaction to me.
He headed from the room and toward where we’d entered the apartment.
Without him yanking me along like a dog on a leash, I noted several more doors off the hallway before we arrived in a vast open area with one of those ultra-fancy glass-enclosed fireplaces and massive windows letting in the light of early evening. Like the club below, solid yet swanky furniture decorated the living quarters—leather, chrome—and stranger items I wouldn’t have expected.
An elegant set of blown-glass vases in muted-tones sat on a long console. Dozens of framed black and white photos hung from the walls, and none of them pictured things like decapitated horse heads. A gigantic grandfather clock sat in one corner, the dark wood polished to a high sheen and looking all old world and antique.
There was also a huge locked gun case, which probably housed trophy weapons for a killer like Kirill.
I spun around slowly, Boris at my heels like I was his new best friend.
Forget about Sasha Zolotov, maybe I’d found my real ally.
Facing Kirill, who quickly shuttered his face into an impassive mask, I said, “I dunno. I’m kind of feeling a little underdressed here.”
I crossed one foot over the other, arms hugged around my middle.
He stalked to one of the sofas, gathered up a soft-looking throw, and came to wrap the blanket around my shoulders.
I was almost touched by his gesture . . . and then he made a great big show of pulling my switchblade from his pocket.
After he crossed the room, he opened a concealed safe and tossed my blade inside.
“In case you get any stupid ideas.”
Yeah. I hated him.
Especially after he’d made me get naked in front of him. I’d been completely aware of the dark lust glittering in his eyes before I slid into the shower. If I had my knife, I’d make him do the same, see how much he liked being treated like a piece of property.
While he stalked into the immaculate stainless-steel kitchen area, my gaze strayed to his ass.
His very firm ass.
That led up to great big broad shoulders.
I wondered what he looked like underneath the expensive clothes.
Oh hell no.
I was not about to start thinking like some foolish girl with no brains between my ears. Kirill wasn’t the first attractive man I’d come across, but he was by far the most lethal. And strangely intriguing.
Boris ran over to him, tail wagging, tongue out.
That would not be me.
As the sounds of the dog munching his food filled the loft, Kirill gestured to me. “Come. Sit.”
I went.
I sat.
Goddammit.
Perched on a stool at the shiny island, I tapped my raggedy nails on the smudge-proof surface. I studied his precise motions as he went from fridge to cupboard to drawer.
He moved with prowling grace and, even when it looked like he was concentrating on something else, I knew his attention barely strayed from me.
When the blanket started slipping, Kirill’s gaze swerved to me, locking on my naked shoulder.
After one sizzling moment, he cleared his throat and turned away. I covered myself again.
I guessed the robot had a raging libido.
A minute later, my Russian cyborg set a platter in the center of the island along with a glass of water for me and vodka for him.
“What’s that?” I pointed at the unidentifiable snack.
“Blinis and caviar.”
“Fish eggs? Ew.”
He looked at me like no one had ever passed on the fish eggs and mini pancake combo before.
“Why don’t you just kill me already?”
“Then I’d have to get the maid up here to clean all the blood splatters.” His deadly look was a reminder of the danger I was in.
Except I just couldn’t help myself.
So I asked, “Is that all you can make?”
That muscle at the back of his jaw tensed again, and he braced himself with knuckles resting on the island.
Then he offered, “How about grilled cheese?”
“Yes.”
Even Boris’s ears perked up.
“Why am I cooking for a woman again?” he grumbled, probably to Boris.
“I can make it.”
“Oh yeah.” Kirill waved a sharp knife at me. “That’s why. No knives. No flames. And definitely no guns for you.”
Grrrr.
The new real food plated up, I dove right in. I was hungry and I wasn’t that proud. Kirill kept to the fish eggs, and I munched
away on the tasty grilled cheese, but I wasn’t about to compliment my captor on his cooking skills.
“What do you think?” he asked when I’d polished off the last of my sandwich.
“About what?”
“The place.” He nodded toward the main area of his swishy apartment.
“Hang on.” I set my elbows on the bar between us. “So you’re literally asking me how I like my accommodation like this is an Airbnb vacation rather than an abduction?”
His lips twitched into an almost-smile again. “What’s it like where you live then?”
Dark. Noisy. Nowhere near as nice as this.
Unsafe.
I was just about to let my guard down—tell Kirill things I’d never even confessed to Lucky, my oldest brother.
Then I sat up straighter, wrapping the warm blanket tighter around myself. I tamped down the unexpected vulnerability Kirill had tapped into.
Some things were probably going to the grave with me. And an early grave at that.
“Hell no. I’m not telling you anything that you could use to retaliate against my family.”
Something different flared in Kirill’s inky eyes—I couldn’t tell if it was anger or irritation or disappointment.
Probably a combination of the first two.
He stalked around the island, tugged on my wrist, and pulled me off the stool. “I can see our pleasant conversation is over. Come.”
As if I had a choice in the matter.
He bulldozed ahead, towing me after him.
Next he’d be getting me a leash. Probably just use one of Boris’s on me.
Thrusting me inside his bedroom, he shut the door in the dog’s face. “Get on the bed.”
“No foreplay or anything?”
“We can do this one of two ways, princess.” He fingered the gun at his side. “I suggest you do it the easy way.”
True fear flooded through me like icy cold water injected into my veins. Biting down on my trembling lower lip, I scurried onto the bed.
“Take that blanket off,” he ordered.
I threw it aside, the towel the only thing covering me now.
And not for long, because Kirill prowled closer and flicked at the terrycloth overlapped at my thighs. “This goes too.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered.