“My breasts.” She was so breathless she could only take little sips of air. “You can touch.”
“Yes,” he growled, walking them backward. The back of her knees hit the bed, and she laid back. He stood in between her parted knees, looking over her still-clothed form. “I am the luckiest man in the world right now.”
Nimble pale fingers made quick work of his tie and shirt buttons. Underneath, he wore nothing but a tight white tank top. With a shrug of his shoulders, he exposed his tightly-clad upper body to his date. Somehow, he was even more beautiful to Jalisa like this. Watching his muscles work as he climbed on top of her made heat curl deep in her belly.
Her mind raced as she tried to keep up with him. She was a virgin and the way he moved told her that he was not. Insecurity dragged this perfect scene through the mud. Was she doing this right? Was her kiss too sloppy? Not sloppy enough? How was she supposed to make him feel as good as she felt right now?
“Ahhh.” Her body naturally responded to his touch. She was no longer a girl, and her body craved womanly pleasure. Wiggling around a bit, she shed her sweater to reveal a hot pink bra she picked out specifically for tonight.
“God, you make me feel wild. Alive.” He lightly scraped his nails down her sides before cupping her breasts. A jolt of pleasure coursed through her. Her back arched up of its own accord.
“Can I take this off?” He squeezed her breasts to make it clear what he was talking about. She nodded her head and sat up. She was going to remove the fabric herself, but he unhooked it was a twist of his wrist.
She clutched the free bra to her body as she laid back down. How many women has he been with to know how to do that? Were they prettier than her? More experienced? Could they give him more pleasure than she could? Jalisa bit her lip and hesitantly pushed the fabric out of the way.
“Hey. We can stop.” Erik leaned over top of her and planted a kiss on her cheek. Their skin pushed together and burned Jalisa in the most pleasurable way.
“I don’t want to stop,” she admitted. “I’m embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” His breath fanned over her face.
They breathed each other’s air. Jalisa pulled him down for a kiss and wrapped her legs around him. Her jeans felt hot and sticky. She wanted nothing more than to remove them, but she knew if she did, he would be inside of her.
“Oh,” she moaned. He was everywhere. His taste in her mouth. His hands on her skin. His weight on her body. It was so intense, and she never wanted it to end, yet she doubted she could stand another second of it. It wasn’t enough. His lips trailed across the soft expanse of her throat, occasionally latching on and sucking the flesh.
His head dipped down to her breast, and he pulled one hard nipple into his mouth. The tingles all over Jalisa’s body were foreign, and the time she had experimented with her own body could not even begin to compare. Her hands grasped at his back, and wetness began to seep between her legs.
“I can’t. I can’t,” she chanted. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“What is it?” He pulled back, his handsome features twisted in concern.
“I need a minute. Please.” Jalisa covered her body with her hands, and he gave her the sweater.
“Take however much time you need. I said I wouldn’t force you into anything, and I meant it. Nothing bad will happen to you when you are here.” He helped her up. “Let’s order that room service. Would you like a bath? The hotel here provides bath bombs. I’ve heard they are quite soothing for ladies.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” Her legs were shaky. A bath would help to cool her overheated flesh and clear her mind.
After telling Erik to order her whatever he thought was best, she headed into the bathroom. It was all white tile and cool chrome. The gigantic tub was large enough to hold two Jalisas, and she filled it almost all the way to the top. She piled her hair on top of her head and secured it with a hotel shower cap. Stripping her clothes off and leaving them on the counter, she grabbed two lavender bath bombs and stepped into the water.
Holding one bath bomb in each hand, she lowered them into the water. They fizzed and popped in her hand, turning her bath water into a glittery purple fairytale. She breathed deeply and washed her senses with lavender.
“Lord,” she spoke aloud. “I don't know what to do. Things are getting so messed up, and now I'm throwing love into the mix. I know it's ridiculous, but I think I might really like this guy. He treats me well.
“As you have taught me, love is not about butterflies in my stomach, but it is about caring for another person. It is a matter of commitment. I know I dare not utter the word marriage to this man, but that is my goal. To stand before you in a church with my other half. White dress and veil. I don’t know who will give me away now, but I do know that Nikita will be the flower girl. She’s always wanted that, but I don’t have to tell you that. She’ll be so beautiful in her dress, perhaps a blue or purple. We’ll write our own vows and become a holy union in the light of the Lord.
“I don’t have any friends here, yet, so, Lord, I ask that you bless me with friends. Enough to fill up the church hall and pray for my marriage. We will throw a massive party after the wedding. There will be cake and punch and games. I will throw a bouquet, and the next woman will find her other half, too.
“I ask that you bless me with many healthy children and that they may never know the fear of what I’m going through. May I provide them with everything they need and may they know you as their savior.
“I hope these words show you how serious I am becoming about this man. I know that you sent him here to me. I'm not sure yet if he is for me, but I think that he is. I trust him, and I trust you, Lord.”
“Then there’s the matter of my virginity.” She brought handfuls of the warm water up and let them run over her breasts. The feeling reminded her of how he had touched her. “You know I’ve never been the kind of Christian who believes sex is evil. Sex is given by God to man. There’s a reason it feels good. I believe that form of love is worship in and of itself.”
“I think I want this man. I want him in every way a woman should: romantically, physically, emotionally, sexually, spiritually. If this is my other half, Lord, please give me a sign.” She sunk down into the water with a sigh. “If this is my other half, please give me the strength not to be afraid when he takes me. Give him a steady heart and a soft touch.”
She lay in the bath and remembered her old pastor’s lessons on falling in love. All love was holy, but especially the romantic love between two people. Jalisa reflected on this until noises disturbed her meditation.
Muffled by the bathroom door, Jalisa heard the sounds of room service being delivered. Taking it as her cue to join Erik, she stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself up in a towel. Jalisa dried off most of her body before taking her hair down, but she still didn’t feel comfortable putting on her clothing. The thought of the tight fabric sticking to her body made her skin crawl.
“Is there a robe?” She poked her head out of the door to find him arranging their plates on the table. A single rose in a vase sat in the middle. He must have made a special request. Her heart smiled.
“I quite like you in just that.” He playfully growled and licked his lips before handing her a soft hotel robe.
The two sat at the table and began to eat. He had ordered burgundy wine glazed rib meat, green beans, and mashed potatoes. A bottle of wine and some water were chilling in a bucket of ice. Erik poured himself a glass of wine, but Jalisa refused. Jalisa arranged her silverware before bowing her head. He watched curiously before bowing his head, too.
“Heavenly Father, I want to thank you for the food we are about to receive. It is one of your many blessings unto man. May we use its energy in ways that uplift your name. Amen.” Jalisa raised her head.
“Amen.” Erik nodded toward her. She took a bite of her food before trying to start a conversation. The topic she wished to discuss was a sensitive one, bu
t it was of the utmost importance to her.
“Do you believe in God?”
There was a pregnant pause between the two. Erik cringed and brought his glass to his lips. Roughly gulping down the entire thing, he sighed and poured himself another drink. Jalisa was right, this would be a sensitive topic.
“That’s not exactly an easy question to answer. It’s not a simple yes or no. I wish it were, but it isn’t.” Erik shrugged. “I don’t really know the answer to that.”
“You must have some thoughts.” Jalisa put her fork down and gave him her full attention.
“I...don’t really have that pretty of a past. The concept of God gets a little murky around my brother’s death.” He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t suppose you would want to hear about that?”
“Tell me about it.”
Chapter 6
Twilight brought out the worst in people. Those who rarely woke up before sunset prowled the streets. Shadows stretched long and low around buildings and into alleyways. Men with heavy feet left icy tracks in front of the closed liquor store. Even the frost-covered ground glistened with a bit of menace. That should have been Erik’s first red flag. He couldn’t see it, though, he was lost in a drunken stupor and deep in conversation with his brother.
Viktor Petrov. The darling child of the Petrov family. He was his mother’s favorite because of his big, brown eyes. Eyes that matched his father and did not tell a tale of a cheating mother who fell into bed with the neighbor. Besides the eyes, their mother’s strong genes assured they were strikingly similar. Most people even assumed they were the same age.
However, they were not. Erik was twenty-three, and Viktor only seventeen. Not even through school yet, the boy was still trying to find his foothold in the world. He had no plans for the future, and expected Erik to give him a prime position at Erik’s budding real estate company. Erik would. The boys were attached at the hip; They always had been.
“Old man winter strikes hard tonight.” Viktor kicked at the ground with his boot, causing a streak in the frost. “Soon it will be so cold that my мячи will freeze off.”
“Don’t speak like that,” Erik scolded while trying to hide a chuckle.
“I do not know the English word for мячи. Will you teach it to me?” Viktor tucked his hands down into his hoodie.
“I will not.” Erik was fluent in English for his business and had been teaching Viktor. “You will never get a wife if you keep talking with such a dirty mouth.”
“I do not want a wife.” Viktor spat on the ground. “I will never take a wife.”
“You will never get a husband either.” Erik budged his younger brother with his elbow.
“Fak you.” Viktor’s heavy accent couldn’t quite get the insult out. “I am not gay. I like women, but I do not like wife. Wife talk all the time. Ask me to pick up after myself. It is my house. I leave my socks where I please.”
“You should be picking up after yourself anyway. You are becoming an adult.” Erik dodged it when Viktor tried to shove him back. The alcohol in Viktor’s system made him stumble a bit before standing up.
“I am still drunk,” Viktor proclaimed. Hours had passed since he had only had a few drinks at a sports party with his brother, but the young man was showing it considerably more than Erik.
“Papa will be proud to have raised such a fine young alcoholic.” Erik paused in front of the windows of twenty-four hour convenience shop. He pressed his back against the hard glass and looked down at his shadow.
Their father had more than a bit of a drinking problem, even by Russian standards. It was a sore topic among their mother and father, but the two boys often made jokes. They gave their father vodka for holidays and laughed at the excitement on his face.
“Look at this!” Viktor put his hands up to the light coming from the shop and made crude gestures, watching the shadows lengthen and distort the image.
“Come on,” Erik fished in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “Sober up with a cigarette.”
Erik passed the pack and lighter to Viktor. Had Erik been the first one to light his cigarette, things might have turned out differently. Viktor placed it between his lips, lit the end, and took a deep breath. Erik glanced away for a second to reach for the lighter and when he looked back up, a piece of his younger brother decorated his face. The lighter slipped through his fingers. The cigarette fell out of his lips and sizzled out in the snow.
Four more bullets fired, jerking his brother’s body around in a grotesque puppet show. Erik’s heart pounded and his muscles froze. He stood there looking at his brother in shock as the body kneeled and fell over with a sickening wet thud. A group of men rushed out of the convenience store and returned fire. Erik was a statue, unable to process what was happening. It wasn’t until a hot bullet came dangerously close to biting into his leg that he moved. He grabbed his brother’s leg and drug him to the first place he could think of: the alleyway.
Erik huddled in the garbage while Viktor’s body swam in ankle-deep liquid filth. Erik reached out a shaking hand and put it on his brother’s body. Blood lazily slopped from the wounds on the smaller man’s back. Shredded skin peeled back to expose red flesh. Erik knew from the stillness of the body and the lack of intense bleeding that his brother’s heart had stopped.
“Viktor?” he tried. The gunfire was thinning out as sirens echoed in the distance. “Viktor, please.”
Putting a hand up to his mouth to stifle the sobs, his own brother’s cooling blood smeared across his face. Hot tears ran down his cheeks and he whispered prayers. He bargained with God, saying that if he would bring back Viktor, Erik would do whatever he wanted. He begged and pleaded until the police followed Viktor’s body’s blood trail into the alley.
“Do you have a weapon? Give it to me now!” the cops shouted in Russian.
“My brother. Please help him…” Erik crawled to them. “Maybe we can save him. Get him to a hospital.”
The police officer made him hold up his hands and strip off his coat while another officer dragged his little brother’s body away. The grief clawed its way up Erik’s throat in a strangled scream. He lunged toward the body, and the police tackled him to the ground. He cried out for his brother to get up, to live, while the police shouted in his ear.
In the end, the police pronounced him dead at the scene. It was later ruled a gang shooting. The men who owned the convenience store were part of some sort of mafia and a rival gang had come to put them out of business. One of the surviving gang members testified that he shot the man outside smoking because he thought it was the owner, who happened to be a very heavy smoker. All in all, five men died that night, and Erik wasn’t one of them.
He wanted to be. The depression that set in after his brother’s death was nothing short of debilitating. He lied in his brother’s bed for days, just smelling his scent and crying into his pillow. He watched childhood home videos where the two frolicked around the Russian landscape. Two brothers who were best friends. Not a care in the world. No idea that they would be separated ten years later by a tragic shooting.
One drunken night, he returned to the scene of the crime and chain smoked the rest of the pack. His lungs burning and his mouth caked with the taste of smoke, he was sad to say he survived the night. Erik wanted to rejoin his brother, but was too afraid to do it himself. Busting into the convenience store, he demanded that they kill him. They refused.
Two days later, Erik was in the back of a truck he didn’t own with a loaded gun. The truck swerved wildly all over the road, reaching triple digit speeds. The sound of sirens and gun shots blasted in his ears. A pull of the trigger, and the police car chasing them spun out. Another pull, another police car gone. Another pull and another one. Over and over until they were home free.
The rush was amazing. There was nothing quite like the thrill of getting away. It was the only thing that made him feel alive, truly alive, since seeing his brother die. The pulling of a trigger. The deliverance of vengeance.
The power to inspire fear. It was an instant addiction.
Originally, it had been a suicide plan, a way to end his pain without being sent straight to hell. Work in the most dangerous positions and maybe he’ll end up getting shot. Next, it was about the tingle of victory shooting up his spine. Then it was about the challenge.
He was damn good at his job. Wild and numb to the pain he was inflicting on others, he climbed the ranks very easily. It wasn’t long before he was orchestrating his own jobs, in charge of his own men. They carved out a piece of Russia, and everyone knew it was theirs. Then, Russia wasn’t big enough. Erik began coordinating international deals with Ireland and, eventually, America.
It was through these trades with America that he met Stone. After moving tons and tons of drugs, covering up crimes, and protection racketeering together for about a year, the two met in New York for a weekend. It was the first time Erik had been to America. He was captivated and wished to stay in America for as long as possible. Within the next week, he was putting down money for a house.
Erik couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his faith soured into a bitter agnostic nothingness. He could recall the exact moment he realized it had happened, though. Boxing things up to take with him to America, he came across the family Bible his mother had given him. Written on the inside of the front cover was a note from his mother promising him a place in her home and her heart for as long as she was alive. Tucked in between its worn out pages was one of the only photos of them as a family. His brother’s smiling face burned a hole in his heart. Erik left it sitting in a drawer in Russia.
That was six years ago. Erik was a different person now. He no longer craved the power and the violence. He was looking for a way out, a new life. He hoped Jalisa would be part of this new life. So far, she was shocked by his story, but did not look disgusted.
Her Russian Millionaire (BWWM Romance Book 1) Page 6