by Lauren Dane
He reared back enough to get at her button and zipper while she watched emotions play over his features.
She froze, feeling exposed. Not in fear. But in recognition.
But what really got her was the way he continued to pull her pants and panties free. Gaze still locked on hers.
That trust between them was always there. Time and again he’d only put his strength to use in her defense or in her favor. Never to harm her.
“Okay then,” she said at last.
* * *
TO VIC IT seemed sort of perfect that she’d given herself to him with an okay then.
Nearly as scorching hot as her comment about rug burn.
She was a continual delight. Surprising him. Underlining what a beautiful, sexy, intelligent creature he’d fallen for.
He teased the head of his cock around her clit as he dipped to kiss her. “Okay then for me too.”
He loved the way the light danced in her eyes as she snorted a laugh. A bolt of something pleasant but edged with a bit of terror hit his belly as he had a thought about telling the Okay Then story to their kids someday.
When he straightened again, she scooted quickly to wrap her legs around his waist.
Struck with the wanton beauty spread out before him, he paused to take stock of his blessings. A stream of Russian burst forth, lines of poetry about curves, shadow and fog, the bliss of woman.
She still wore the remnants of her sweater and bra, nipples hard and dark, standing out against the pale, unseen skin of the under curve of her breasts. Her eyes had gone glossy with pleasure.
The scent of her desire rose with the heat of her. Tickled and seduced his senses. In the entirety of his life he’d never encountered the like of it.
“Get that condom on, Vitya. You have a job to do.”
He bent back to dig around in a nearby drawer where he’d stashed some condoms once they’d begun dating. She unwrapped herself long enough for him to get the rubber on.
Then she was back, her long, lithe legs encircling him, holding him in place. The cant of her mouth told him she wanted what she wanted and he’d better deliver. Damn if he didn’t adore her.
When he didn’t immediately comply and thrust into her, she gave him a grumpy sort of growl, rolling her hips against him. Urging him on.
“Be patient. I want to be sure you’re ready,” he murmured as he slid the pad of his thumb from side to side over her clit.
She began to argue—naturally—but it died on her lips as she moaned softly instead. Bingo. His lovely Rachel did so enjoy climaxing. And heaven knew he loved to help her get there.
She arched, grinding herself against him as he slowly began to push inside. Even through the latex the heat of her shot up his spine. Moonlight cast silvery fingers over her skin and a fierce need to always keep her safe drove him to settle in to the root and then pull back nearly all the way.
Only to reverse and make that same sweet journey. Keeping time with slow sweeps over her clit.
Again and again as the heat between them built. As his need to come clawed through his gut so he clung by the barest margin. Needing her to come first. Wanting that clasp all around him as she hit her peak.
He craved that blindness that took over her gaze... Ahh, like she had now as she rocketed toward orgasm. All around his cock she superheated.
“More,” she whispered. “Harder.”
He obliged, adjusting the depth and force of his thrusts. A fire raged through him. The exquisite knife’s edge of perfect just-right between too much and not enough.
He danced there with her. With her body tightening around his as she began to come on a gasp and a snarl of his name. He waited as long as he could, savoring her pleasure until there was nothing left to do but follow her into climax.
Vic rolled up to his feet and returned shortly with a throw from the couch. “I’m all over moving to a bed when my legs work again,” she muttered as she pillowed her head on his biceps as they lay on his living room floor.
“Just let me know when you’re ready,” he said, amused.
“By the way, I totally have rug burn. I need to check that off my life list.”
“Me too,” he told her. “On my knees.”
“I’ll be checking that off my life bucket list too. Give supremely sexy man some action hot enough to give him rug burn. Boom.”
He kissed the top of her head, breathing her in. “Just part of the service I provide.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RACHEL OPENED VIC’S front door to find him on the porch, his arms full of bags so she moved to the side so he could come in.
“Hi there. What’s in those?” she asked, indicating the things he’d just put on his dining room table.
“Look inside and see,” he tossed back over his shoulder as he headed into the kitchen to rustle around like a raccoon.
She paused a bit to watch his butt before she poked around and pulled out a beautiful blown glass hummingbird feeder.
“Oh,” she said softly.
“Do you like it?” he said as he returned to her side. “I bought several different kinds of feeders for the yard. I figured you’d know best where to put everything but I did some research to see what was best to feed what kind of birds and I checked your shed to see what you use.”
She poked through, pulling out the different feeders and feed from peanuts to suet cakes.
Some people liked lingerie, she loved birds. Vic paid attention. He knew what mattered to her. His gifts were quite often like this one and showed how well he listened.
“This is all really amazing.” She held up a tray feeder. “Thank you.”
“I just want my house to be a place you feel happy in,” he said. “And I want the birds to come around. And you like birds. And butterflies too. So I got some stuff the guy at the nursery said butterflies like. That’s out in the yard. You could show me where to put it.”
Rachel put the feeder down and moved to him. “You’re such a catch.”
“I know, right?” he asked, imitating her.
She hugged him tight, enjoying how absurdly happy she was at that very moment.
“Let’s go and put it all up,” he said as he tugged her toward the door.
“Then I’ll teach you how to make hummingbird nectar. But only if you’re good.”
He turned back to her. “But what do I get if I’m bad?”
“A whole different kind of nectar. Though to be totally honest, you can have it either way.”
“I am so fucking lucky it’s not even funny,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her quickly.
Said the man who actually researched to see which birds were native to the area, what types of feeders they needed and what sort of things they ate. All because his girlfriend loved birds.
Rachel reminded herself to tell Pavel and Irena they’d done a great job with Vic. Stuff like that was tricky because of Danil, but it was true anyway. They had done a wonderful job with the two adult children they’d raised.
And that was before he reached into the hall closet and pulled out a hat he plopped down on her head. “Protect yourself from the sun.” He kissed her nose.
She showed him how to fill the tall feeder with black oil sunflower seeds and where to put the suet cakes.
“How do you know all this stuff?” he asked. “Did you love birds...before?”
“I’ve always liked birds. At summer camp they taught us basic bird calls. What to look for. What birds went where. The usual stuff. And then, when there was nothing else, there was birds.” She lifted a shoulder. “I’d been looking at bird stuff for a case back when I first started so I knew about East Coast birds too. I had nothing else in that basement but horror.”
“I hate that.” He shoved a hand through his hair, setting it free. “I hate that you have this thing, this ter
rible thing in your heart and memory and I can’t punch it or kick it or scare it away.”
He ducked into the house to grab her a throw and came back to the porch swing.
She could tell him it made a difference to her to know he felt that way. But she figured he knew.
“I couldn’t turn it off,” she said at last. “When I was being held I couldn’t turn off being an agent. Everything I heard. Everything that happened and was said I cataloged. I was building a case the whole time. Even when I didn’t want to.”
There’d been no turning it off. No falling into that place some of the others had. Instead of numb she’d been hyperaware.
He put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him.
“Even as I built my case, even as he did the things he did to those other women, I also knew that when I got out I wasn’t ever going back to the FBI. Like I got burned out, all those circuits just wouldn’t stop working so I’d have to channel something else, be someone else. That’s part of what got me through. The idea of surviving just so I could win, so that the new Rachel could survive.”
“I’m glad you survived, Rachel.”
“So I can make you spend money on making your yard bird-friendly?”
“So my life can be full of the best thing to ever happen to me. And yes, so I can spend money making my yard bird-friendly because then it’s also Rachel-friendly.”
“I already let you see my boobies. You’re being very sweet. Is this to get me to let you do butt stuff?”
The look on his face before he burst out laughing was worth telling him a piece of her past.
“I do have a fondness for your boobies. Butt stuff?” He shrugged. “Maybe on my birthday.”
He really was perfect.
* * *
IT SATISFIED VIC that she liked to be at his house. That she was comfortable there. Sure the bird feeders were a lure, but it wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy birds and butterflies anyway.
The change had been happening slowly over the last several weeks. There was a stack of her bracelets on the neck of the water bottle she always kept next to her side of the bed.
She was always cold so there were fleece throws tossed over the back of the chairs and couch. Her Wonder Woman travel mug sat on his counter.
“Every time I see a goldfinch I’m going to think of you from now on,” he said, taking her hand.
“When I see a goldfinch I’m always so amazed such a thing exists. So beautiful. Even with winter plumage they’re beautiful. And by the way, your mother has looked out the window of what I think is the guest bathroom at us. Three times now.”
He sighed. “But do let me remind you I have a big dick.”
Her snicker made him smile. “I think it’s sort of cute. She’s worried about you.”
Vic scoffed. “She’s worried about you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because that’s what mothers do. And she senses the hurt in you and she wants to help with tea and cookies.”
“It’s what your mother does. It’s sweet that she includes me. Did you tell her I’m more than capable of putting anyone down who comes at me?” she asked.
“She knows that what has the power to hurt you most isn’t always about size. It’s about your heart.”
They were both quiet awhile, rocking, listening to the rain that fell on and off until a car skidded to a stop in front of his parents’ house.
She sat up at the same time he did, the blanket falling to the side as she put her feet down.
“Who is that?” she asked, that soft voice sharpened into what he bet was her special agent voice.
“I don’t know.”
They both stood and without a word, headed down the yard toward the street.
A woman roughly Irena’s age got out of the passenger side. The younger woman in the driver’s seat followed, a phone at her ear.
It was the mother of Danil’s old girlfriend and if he wasn’t mistaken, the driver was the sister.
“Excuse me,” he called out to them. The older one looked over at him and hustled herself in an arc toward the front steps of his parents’ house.
“You two, stop where you are,” Rachel barked out. Demanded. Ordered.
They both came to a halt.
Rachel’s walk had changed. She held herself with a different type of power and damned if it didn’t knock him out. So sexy.
He pulled himself away from his dirty fantasies and to the problem at hand. These women were going to make trouble for his parents.
Again.
Rachel strode up and got between the women and the front porch. Vic stood at her side and did his best to look imposing.
“Get out of the way,” the younger one said.
“You’re going to need to turn yourselves around and leave now. Whatever you’re selling, the Orlovs aren’t interested in buying,” Rachel told them.
At their back, Vic heard his father order his mother to stay inside and call Seth before he came outside.
“They were just leaving, Pasha,” Rachel said without turning around.
“Murderer!” the mother shrieked and Rachel stepped closer to her.
“I said stop that right now.”
The whip crack in Rachel’s tone seemed to yank all the energy from the other woman.
“You don’t know what he’s done,” the other woman whispered.
“I know he’s not the reason your daughter is an addict. I know he’s not the cause of your troubles. I know he means a great deal to me and I’m not going to let you hurt him. You’re lucky you have a chance, no matter how small. He never will again.”
Vic swallowed back the emotion at the way she’d just defended his family as he stepped forward, keeping his father behind them both.
“Go. Tend to your own heartache. I won’t allow you to bring any more here,” Vic told them in Russian.
Rachel took his hand, squeezing it a moment before she stepped forward, easing the women back a little.
“I understand that you’re hurting,” Rachel told them in a soft but firm voice. “But you will not be allowed to harass and intimidate this family anymore. Are we clear?” She took the mother’s arm and led her down the walk to the curb.
Vic told his father to stay put to keep his mom safe. But really it was an effective way to get his dad to obey while Vic kept at the ready to deal with anything these women wanted to hurl his parents’ way.
He overheard Rachel saying, “No. I don’t want to hear any more of that. They had nothing to do with Danil’s addiction. Or your daughter’s. I feel bad for you. I imagine it’s a terrible thing to deal with a child who’s an addict. But the Orlovs are victims too. They’ve lost more than you have. They’re living your nightmare. You’re hurting them and it’s not going to make your daughter better. I’m urging you to get the help you need. Even if you can’t get your daughter help, you can make sure your other children and you and your spouse are getting assistance. It’s not easy loving someone with a substance abuse problem. They can help you learn some coping skills.”
“They’re bad people. Get away from them before they do to you what they did to our daughter,” the older woman urged.
Rachel said something quietly as she opened the door.
They got into the car and drove off.
“What did you say to get them to go?” he asked her.
“They’re in pain. I let them know that mattered to me but also that they weren’t going to stomp all over your parents to feel better.”
“You made them feel heard. That was some top-notch de-escalation.”
“It’s nice to use my former job skills in a non-life-threatening way. Come on. Let’s go in and let your mom make tea. She’s going to be upset after all this.” Rachel looked back across the way to his house. “I’ll go make sure everything is
off and locked up and meet you back here shortly, all right?”
It would also give him a chance to talk to his parents privately, which she knew he needed.
“They’re gone. Rachel made them leave,” his dad told his mom.
“They’ll be back. They always come back.”
“Did you call any police other than Seth?” Vic asked as he poured already hot water into a nearby teapot.
“There’s no use. They didn’t even come to the door. They left without threatening anyone. It just gives them attention when we call the police,” his mother said.
A knock sounded on the front door and as Rachel was coming inside, Alexsei and Maybe pulled up next door so he knew they’d be by shortly too.
Rachel gave his mother a hug and made her a cup of tea and another for his dad.
It had been a crappy moment in time, but damn if he didn’t love this woman and the way she treated his family.
* * *
RACHEL FOUND IRENA in her sewing room. She sat, some mending on her lap as she stared out the window. Rachel put a mug of tea, the kind with a lid so it wouldn’t ruin anything the older woman might be working on, on a table near her.
“Figured you might want something warm. I can leave you alone if you’d prefer. Talk if you want. Not talk. Whatever. I just wanted you to know I’m here if you need me.”
Irena looked away from the window, smiling a little at Rachel.
“Thank you, sweetheart. Sit. There’s a little bottle in that button box on the shelf behind you. Whiskey goes better in tea, I think. And today calls for what I’m told is called a belt.”
Rachel dug out the little bottle of whiskey, handing it to Irena, who poured a healthy dollop in her mug.
“Danil died seven years ago,” Irena said. “Evie was barely eighteen. Vicktor wasn’t too much older at twenty-four. They, the girl, her name is Elizabeta, her parents they do show up about once a year to harass us. But it’s usually in the early fall. He died on September 26.”
“Why do they come to you when it was your child who died? Was she there too?”