Make You Mine

by Jackie Ashenden

  It broke the hold and she was up on her feet again as he came toward her. And this time she didn’t let herself get distracted by his bare chest.

  This fight had to end right now. The atmosphere was too thick, too tense. It unnerved her. She would take him down, prove her strength, prove to him that she was immune once and for all.

  But you’re not and you know you’re not.

  Katya ignored the thought. As he came toward her she waited until the last moment, then sidestepped and swept her arm up, once again catching him beneath the chin, the momentum of his rush forcing his head up and back. Then, continuing with the movement, she pivoted behind him, brought her hands over his face, pulled, and jerked him down onto the floor, twisting him as he fell until he was flat on his face.

  “Fucking hell,” he gasped.

  But Katya was done. She stepped over him and dropped to her knees, straddling his body, her hands hard against his shoulders, pinning him onto the floor.

  “What do you want?” she asked quietly, holding him there. “Why are you goading me? If you’re trying to prove you’re stronger, you forget, I’m a soldier. I’ve been fighting men since I left military school. Men are always trying to prove themselves against me. They always fail.”

  He lay still and she realized abruptly that her hands were on his bare skin. He felt good. Strong, hot. There was power in the lean, rangy body beneath hers. Perhaps a power he didn’t use to his best advantage.

  Power you want used on you …

  She blinked in shock at the thought, her breath catching.

  And in that moment Alex moved. A powerful shift that took her utterly by surprise. One minute she was looking down at the back of his head; the next he’d flipped her onto her back and he was the one leaning over her, straddling her hips, his knees planted on both sides of her thighs, fingers pinning her wrists to the mat on either side of her head.

  Her heartbeat thumped, the blood rushing in her veins as a deep unease wound through her. She wasn’t supposed to be the one on her back. She was supposed to be the one proving herself against him.

  It serves you right. You let him distract you. Again.

  She shifted, trying to dislodge him, but he only held her harder, tighter. She tried again, a different move this time, but he anticipated it, his thighs clamping tight around hers, keeping her down. Another twist, a special one she’d learned from her commander, Konstantinov, but again, it had absolutely no effect on the man holding her pinned.

  She was breathing faster now, her skin slick with sweat, that unease sitting like a sickness in her gut. She’d been held down before, been beaten before, but it had never mattered–she stored away the experience, using it to do better next time. Yet this … this was different. And it wasn’t physical pain she was afraid of–he wouldn’t hurt her; she knew that. It was a different kind of fear. A much more basic, primitive kind.

  You are helpless against him.

  “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” His blue eyes were sharp edged and glittering. “Being held down like this.” There was a fierce, almost savage expression on his face and she knew that sharp thing glinting in his gaze. Fury.

  “What do you want?” Her voice was hoarse. “Why are you so angry?”

  He bent his head, staring down at her, rage flickering like a candle flame in his eyes. “I want your surrender. Give it to me. Now.”

  A shiver raced over her skin, her muscles locking as she tensed beneath him. Instinctively she wanted to resist, protect herself, but he was too strong to fight. And struggling would only end up tiring her.

  “Why?” she asked, sucking in a ragged breath. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Give it to me, Katya.”

  “No. Not until you tell me why.” She didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to be beaten. He might have the upper hand physically, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have other weapons.

  The powerful muscles of his chest and arms flexed as he shifted his weight, and she was conscious of his heat. Of his skin slick with sweat. Of the press of him on top of her.

  So good …

  “Tell me you surrender to me, and I’ll tell you why.” His voice was little more than a growl.

  She didn’t have a choice, did she? Katya shivered. “Yes, okay.” She had to force the words out. “I surrender to you. Now tell me why.”

  Something flared in his eyes. Triumph or satisfaction, she couldn’t tell which. “Because right now, all I want is something I can control, Katya mine. Just one thing. And that thing is you.”

  God, he was hard. She could feel the length of his cock pressing between her thighs. Pressing against the ache there. A sweet, intolerable ache. She fought it. “Why me? Why can’t you find someone else?”

  “No one else is as strong as you are. And I need to test myself against strength.”

  Heat licked up inside her, a sensual wave moving over her skin. Making her want to move her hips, shift them against that hard ridge between her legs, ease the ache.

  No, she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t give in. Struggling with the urge, Katya concentrated on the look on his face instead, trying to read it. “Why? Because of South? He accepted your bet and the game is tomorrow. Your clubs are at stake.” She searched the deep midnight of his gaze, remembering the tension that had been there between himself and the other man. That strange, nearly sexual atmosphere that seemed so dangerous. “It’s him you’re testing yourself against, isn’t it? This is personal.”

  A muscle leapt in his jaw, the tension in his body winding tight as a catapult about to be launched. “Of course it’s fucking personal,” Alex said suddenly, and there was nothing lazy or mocking about his voice now. Passion vibrated through the words. A ferocity that sounded like it had been years in the making. “I want to take everything from him. Strip away all his money and his power. And when he’s left with nothing, I want that motherfucker on his knees begging me for mercy. Maybe I’ll give it to him. Or maybe I’ll just put a fucking bullet through his brain instead.”

  Katya remained motionless beneath him. The words echoed with the force of a vow. “What did he do to you?” she whispered, caught by the savagery on his face. “Why do you hate him so much?” But even as she’d finished asking the question, the answer was already there, stark and clear in her head.

  It all added up. That weird tension between the two men. The open hatred on Alex’s face. The promise of revenge … Conrad had hurt him and probably in a sexual way.

  Alex blinked. As if he’d been somewhere else, looking at something else. “All you need to know is that he’ll deserve everything that’s coming to him,” he said, his tone absolutely final, making it clear the conversation was over.

  Questions lodged in her throat, but she couldn’t ask them. Did South hurt you? Did he assault you? Was it sexual, sir? No, definitely not. Those were questions that were hard for dearest friends, let alone ones she could ask her employer.

  He probably wouldn’t answer anyway and it would only make things even more difficult between them. And, God knew, that didn’t need to happen.

  She tried a slight movement to indicate she was ready to get up, yet the weight of him on her and the strength pinning her to the mat didn’t lessen.

  “I … understand.” She tried to make her voice sound normal. “So have we finished here?”

  But Alex’s focus shifted again and then narrowed. On her. “No,” he murmured. “We are extremely fucking far from finished.”

  A shiver whispered through her, heat prickling her skin. She tried to swallow, her throat dry. “Please. Let me up.”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t think you want that.”

  The unease she’d felt earlier returned in full force, twisting and knotting with the sensual heat generated by his touch, until she couldn’t work out which was which or even what she felt.

  Fear. You’re scared.

  No. Of course she wasn’t. She just had to get up.

  “Please. I …
need you to let me go.”

  He frowned. The savagery had faded from his expression, but the edge in his gaze was sharp as a blade. “Don’t be afraid, Katya. I won’t hurt you; you know that.”

  “I’m not afraid.” But her voice was faint, thready.

  “Yes, you are. What’s scaring you?”

  How could she explain the feeling when she barely understood it herself? “Sir, please.”

  Alex moved again, a subtle shift of his hips, and another shiver chased through her as the pressure of his erection brushed the sensitive point between her legs. And he saw it, his fingers on her wrists tightening. “Is it this?” He shifted again, deliberately, sending yet more electric shocks of sensation racing up her spine.

  Her brain felt cloudy, her limbs heavy. “No. No, it’s not.” It felt like she had to keep saying it in order to make it true.

  “You’re a liar, sweetheart.” He leaned down, his mouth inches away from hers, his gaze infinite. “You’re still fighting me. You were supposed to surrender.”

  She struggled for breath. Struggled against the bizarre temptation to close the gap and kiss him. He smelled of sweat and musk, and that subtle expensive aftershave she liked.

  Delicious …

  “I have,” she said insistently.

  “No, you haven’t.” His body moved and again that lightning strike of pleasure flashed through her. “You’re so tense you’re almost rigid.”

  “Sir—”

  “Stop fighting, Katya.” His mouth was so achingly close. “There’s nothing to fight against.”

  Her breathing had become ragged. “You don’t understand. I can’t … I can’t give in.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s a weakness.” Red in the water. Blood on the tiles. Her mouth felt like a desert. “And I … I can’t be vulnerable. I can’t be exposed. I have to be strong. I have to fight.”

  The darkness of his gaze held something she didn’t understand and yet couldn’t look away from. “Did you think you were weak the night you let me touch you?”

  “I…” She stopped, her heart pounding in her chest. “I was afraid.”

  “You were, but you let me touch you anyway. You let me give you pleasure. You trusted me to keep you safe and I did. And you will never know how strong you were in that moment. How powerful. Just like you’re strong now.”

  She swallowed, her body aching with tension and hunger. With desperation. “Alex…”

  “Let me prove it to you.” He straightened, letting go of her wrists, his blue eyes never leaving hers. Then he laid one palm on her stomach. “Let me show you how strong you are.”

  Now her hands were free she could leave. She could twist and move, get rid of him. Get up and walk away. All her instincts were screaming at her to do just that, but … some lost part of her wanted to know what he meant. Wanted him to show her. And she was so tired of fighting. Sometimes she just wanted not to have to.

  Alex didn’t move and she knew he was waiting for her permission. So she gave it. “Yes,” the word soft, almost a whisper. And then she lay still, her breath escaping in a long rush, her muscles relaxing.

  Surrendering.

  Finally he put one hand down beside her head, leaning over her. Looking down at her, his other hand motionless on her stomach. “Don’t close your eyes this time,” he said. “Keep them on me. And that’s an order.”

  Wordlessly she nodded, trying not to tense up again as the palm resting on her abdomen slid down, pushing beneath the waistband of her yoga pants to the bare skin beneath. His fingers stroked over her skin, little caresses that made her tremble inside.

  She wanted to look away, close her eyes like she had the time before, but he’d ordered her not to, so she didn’t, making herself hold his gaze as his hand moved lower. Beneath the cotton of her panties, sliding through the curls between her thighs.

  A sharp blade of pleasure cut through her, making her gasp aloud, the sound echoing in the room. Again her instinct was to fight against it, inexplicable fear wrapping cold fingers around her throat. But his fingers moved again, lightly brushing, then circling her clit, gentle and undemanding.

  Yet that sword of pleasure wasn’t gentle or undemanding. It was bright and vicious, making her groan, making her want to move her hips, relieve the desperate ache. She wanted to spread her legs, but he was still straddling her, preventing her, and the constriction made the pleasure somehow even more intense.

  “You’re wet, Katya,” he said, stroking her, teasing her. “And hot. I know you like this. Do you have any idea what knowing that does to me? What giving me your surrender means?”

  She didn’t need him to tell her. She could see it all laid bare in his eyes, the blue gone smoky and dark with desire. His voice was rough, his expression tight with hunger. The evidence of her power. She could feel it uncoiling inside her, a deep sensuality she’d subconsciously been trying to repress for a very long time now.

  His hand slid farther between her legs, one finger pushing gently against her entrance. And she gave in to the need to lift her hips, arching as she kept her gaze on his, feeling his finger slide deep inside her, tearing a moan from her.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “That’s it. Let me know how good it feels.” His hand began to move in a gentle, insistent rhythm, the slide of his finger inside her unbelievably intense.

  She panted, unable to look away from the fierce beauty of his face, desire stamped along every line.

  He was right. This wasn’t weakness. This was power. This was strength.

  And Katya gave herself over to it, gasping as he added another finger, stretching her, creating bright sparks of pleasure that ignited along her nerve endings, making her moan. His hand urged her faster, pressing harder. And this time as the climax approached, there was none of that reflexive fear. She kept looking at him, watching the desperate expression on his face flare and change as the orgasm caught her, making her cry out at the intensity of it, flames glittering behind her eyes.

  Afterwards she lay there for what seemed a long time, the beat of her pulse loud in her head, shaking as he withdrew his hand from her body, his touch gentle as he adjusted her clothing. He didn’t look at her.

  “Please,” she said thickly, sitting up, not even realizing she was going to speak until the words were out. “Let me give you something in return.”

  His gaze flickered back to hers. “I don’t need anything.”

  Such a lie when she could see the rigid length of his erection pressing against the zipper of his pants. “You do. I can see that you do.”

  “Katya—”

  “I want to give you something this time. I need to.”

  He began to shift away. “Now is not the time.”

  “So, you’re afraid as well?” She hadn’t meant it to sound so accusing, but she didn’t take it back.

  Alex stilled, half turned away from her. And for a long moment she thought he was going to carry on. Get up and leave.

  But he didn’t.

  He turned back to her, still on his knees, the look on his face enigmatic. “You want to give me something?” His voice sounded rough. “Okay then. Give me your hand.”

  She did so, his fingers curling around her wrist. Then he undid a couple of buttons on his fly and held her palm to the hard plane of his stomach, pushing it down beneath the waistband of his pants and under the soft cotton of his boxers.

  Her breath caught as she felt the heat of him, the rigid length of his shaft against her fingers. She’d never touched a man like this before, had never realized how hard it would feel or how soft and smooth the skin was. The contrast was intoxicating.

  His hand circled hers, closing her fingers around him. “Do exactly what I say, understand?”

  She looked up, her heartbeat hammering in her chest as a sudden feeling of guilt assailed her. Oh God, what if his reluctance was due to what had possibly happened between him and South? What if this was a problem for him? Had she been wrong to insist? Then again,
he clearly didn’t have any problems with sex given what she’d seen of his sex life.

  “You do want this, don’t you?” she asked to be absolutely sure.

  “Of course I fucking want it.” There was an edge in his voice. “Why do you think my dick is hard?”

  Okay, so that had been the wrong thing to ask. And no doubt more questions along those lines would only make him angrier.

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  A shadow moved in the deep blue depths. “Hold me firmly, like this.” He squeezed his fingers around hers. “Then move your hand.” He showed her, guiding the movement.

  The breath hissed out of him as she tightened her grip, as she moved her hand the way he’d shown her. She couldn’t stop looking at him, at the pleasure staining his cheekbones, at the fierce desire glittering in his eyes.

  Now the power was with her. Even though she was doing what he’d ordered. It was fascinating. Addicting. How incredible to have this man literally in the palm of her hand, to be able to undo him in a way that wasn’t about physical strength. Because she was undoing him, she was watching this jaded, cynical playboy come apart in front of her.

  This was trust. Of a different kind than him trusting her with his life. This was him trusting her with his pleasure. Like she’d given him hers.

  It made something gather tight in her chest. Made it ache in a way that didn’t have anything to do with sex. Did it frighten him the way it had frightened her?

  But she couldn’t tell from his face. There was only a taut look there, like a man desperately searching for something and not finding it.

  He whispered her name then, urging her movements even faster, and then she felt him suddenly go rigid, his eyes shutting tight. “Oh fuck,” he murmured, his fingers around hers squeezing tight, his breathing harsh, his body shuddering.

  She felt his cock pulse, her palm becoming slick as he groaned, his movements losing their rhythm. Then he bent his head, his body shaking.

  But his hand remained clamped around hers and she didn’t move.