Pride demanded she pull away from him, but the pad of his thumb moved in a delicious pattern over her palm. She felt each stroke humming through her bloodstream. Her womb clenched, and she felt the flood of liquid heat begging to welcome him deep inside her where he already seemed to live.
"It's got to be said, Joley, your driver-slash-bodyguard seems a bit useless to me." He flashed Steve, still in the car, a look of contempt and tugged on her hand until she followed him, moving out of the glare of the floodlights, into the deeper shadows where reporters might not notice that Joley Drake had come to Nikitin's party.
"You've got to stay away from the Reverend and his moronic group of badasses, Joley," he added. "They're capable of doing you great harm."
"I know." She did know. And she wanted her hand back, because if he kept it up, she was going to strip and fling herself into his arms and she'd never forgive herself.
"I'd have to kill them. You know I would. Just stay away from them."
"No one ever has to kill anyone." She wanted to cry—or scream in pure frustration. He was so matter-of-fact about it, as if killing could solve the world's problems instead of being the world's problem.
"You're naive to think that, Joley," he said softly and brought her hand to his mouth. His lips were firm and cool. His mouth was hot and moist. He nibbled on the tips of her fingers.
He knew what he was doing to her. He had to know. And he had to know she'd come there to see him. Joley tugged halfheartedly at her hand, but he merely tightened his grip and she let it go. There was no saving her self-respect.
"Why can't you let me have some peace?"
"You know why. You belong to me and I'm not willing to give you up because you're afraid."
She felt the first flush of smoldering anger. "I'm not afraid of you. I don't like what you are or who you work for. There's a difference."
"Is there?" He smiled as he scraped the pads of her fingers with his teeth, sending streaks of fire racing through her bloodstream and sizzling along every nerve ending.
She jerked her hand away and wiped it on her thigh. "You know there is. I'm not going to deny I'm physically attracted, but I have a certain weakness for jerks. Don't ask me why, but I have 'losers apply here' stamped on my forehead. You're just the kind of man I want to avoid."
His palm curled around her throat, a gentle touch, yet it seemed a flame burned against her bare skin. A faint grin touched his mouth, turned his eyes to a deep blue. "Am I really?" The smile was gone, leaving him looking more lethal than ever.
She swallowed the sudden lump of fear before she choked on it. His thumb slid along her neck in the smallest of caresses, sending shivers of awareness down her spine. Sexually, she was very susceptible to him. She suspected him of spell casting, but when she touched him, she couldn't find evidence of it. He often whispered to her at night, urging her to come to him. And she wanted him day and night. Even her songs were beginning to reflect her need of him.
She had come here intending to sleep with him—just getting it over with—but now that she was with him, she knew it would be a terrible mistake. He would own her, she'd never be free of him. Her only hope was to hold out and hope her obsession with him passed.
"You're a hit man. It isn't glamorous or cool. It's disgusting. You kill people for a living."
"Do I?"
He never raised his voice or seemed to take offense, even when she was being deliberately rude.
"Don't you?" She was desperate. Desperate. Someone had to save her from herself, because this man had her so tied up in knots she couldn't think straight. She wanted to claw at his face, rake his body with her fingernails, fight for freedom, and yet at the same time, she craved him, needed him, wanted to wrap her body around his and feel him deep inside her, possessing her, claiming her. She nearly groaned in despair.
"Kiss me, Joley."
Her stomach somersaulted. Her gaze jumped to his mouth. He had great lips. Very defined, very masculine. Kissing would get her into more trouble and she was already in way too deep. Ilya Prakenskii seemed so cool on the outside, ice water in his veins, but inside he smoldered like a living volcano, all molten heat and roiling lava.
He leaned close, his lips inches from hers. His warm breath was against her face and he smelled of spice and mint. "Kiss me." The command was low, his voice soft, almost tender. Her toes were beginning to curl.
She didn't know if she moved to cover that scant inch or if he did. She only knew that his hand shifted to shape the nape of her neck and that her body went soft and pliant, molding against his incredibly hard frame. And that his mouth was on hers. His lips were firm and cool. His teeth scraped and tugged at her lower lip and then it wasn't cool anymore. Fire ignited.
He took control before she could think or breathe, the flames sweeping up and through her, consuming her, taking her over completely. She gave herself to him, wrapping her arms around him, sliding one leg around his to bring her body some relief from the terrible tension that built and built along with the firestorm his mouth created.
His hand caught her hair and held her with a tight, ruthless grip, the bite of pain only increasing her need to be closer, to wrap herself up in him. Her hips moved, sliding her body intimately against his thigh. She needed—needed—release, a respite from the continual sexual pressure that never seemed to let up. Night and day her body was on fire for this man.
The heat from his mouth spread like flames licking over her skin. She heard herself moan, and he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth, taking everything she offered and demanding more.
The world spun away for Joley until there was only his strength and his hard body and the racing fire storming out of control. Her breasts ached, felt swollen and tender, the tips sensitive as they rubbed against his chest. The junction between her legs was hot and damp, demanding release. She slid along his thigh, applying pressure, seeking the relief only his body could provide.
"No." Ilya lifted his mouth from hers, his fingers reluctantly releasing her. "Not like this. When you give yourself to me, it's all the way and forever. This is too easy."
Joley flung her head back, glaring at him. "You're saying no to me?"
"We're not doing this, not like this. You want to get off, you can come home with me and get into my bed where you belong."
She studied his implacable expression, wanting to belong to him, knowing he would take her over, knowing she couldn't live with what and who he was. She would end up loathing herself more than she already did.
He was rejecting her. She'd flung herself at him after months of enduring his constant assault on her senses, she'd given in, driven by an obsession, a craving he'd planted, and he was rejecting her. Humiliation fed fury. She took a deep breath and flung back her head, chin up. "Fine. I don't need you. I can walk into that house and go home with any man I want."
Ilya heard the complete confidence in her voice and knew she was stating the absolute truth. She looked passionate, untamed, so sexy his heart nearly stopped. Her eyes were fairly shooting sparks. Her hair was wild and disheveled, as if he had already made love to her. She looked wild and unpredictable and so beautiful he ached.
Ilya caught her wrist again, turned over her palm. "Do you see this, Joley?" His hand slid over her upturned palm, sending shivers along already sensitized nerve endings. "I don't care what happened before I put my mark on you, but make no mistake, Joley, ever since I put this on you, you belong to me. I don't share well with others. Do whatever you feel you have to do, but be willing to live with the consequences. Just know you're going to make things unnecessarily hard on yourself."
"Why are you doing this to me?" Her palm, the one marked by his brand, itched to slap the tough angles and planes of his face. He led her on and then rejected her. "You can't tell me no and then say I can't be with anyone else. Damn you to hell for this."
"You need a man, and I don't mean some spineless wimp who is going to give in to your every whim. You need someone who can rein you in and
control your tendency to act before you think."
"That's so sexist. As if I can't take care of myself." She gave a little sniff of disdain, furious with him. "I'm a famous, highly successful woman who's been all over the world, Prakenskii, and I do a darned good job of taking care of myself."
He shook his head. "You don't and you know you don't. Everyone thinks you're tough, Joley, because that's what you want them to believe, but you're not. And you're way too impetuous. You rush in to act without thinking. The Reverend and his pathetic excuse for bodyguards are a perfect example. What did you think would happen when you exposed him for his sleazy crimes on national television? He intends to pay you back. A man like that doesn't forgive and forget. He gets even."
"And you think I need a man to protect me?"
"Yes. Call me sexist all you want, but in the end, it won't change the truth. You're running because you know you need me and you don't want to need anyone."
"Joley!" Brian called her name and she spun around. Denny, her drummer, was walking with him toward her, looking guilty.
Joley loathed herself in that moment. She wasn't any better than Denny. She'd come here for sex with a man she was certain was the worst kind of criminal. And he had rejected her advances, humiliated her, threatened her, and she still was on fire for him. What did that say about her? She pushed away from Ilya and ran to meet Brian and Denny, choosing to escape before she did something she couldn't take back.
Chapter 2
"I'VE done something so stupid, Hannah." Joley paced back and forth, skirting the furniture in her hotel room as she held the phone to her ear. "Really, really stupid."
"I'm not going to mention that it's three in the morning and you're scaring the hell out of me," Hannah said amid a great deal of covers rustling and her husband Jonas whispering in the background. Hannah shushed him. "I know you're not hurt because all of us would know."
"I am hurt." Joley kicked at the bed. She'd already thrown the pillows and every other thing she could find in the room that couldn't be destroyed. "I can't sleep. I can't eat. All I do is think about him."
Hannah might be completely across the country, but she didn't have to ask who him was. "What happened?" She tried to send her sister waves of reassurance, but the distance separating them was too great.
"I couldn't sleep. I ached, Hannah, inside and out. I swear I feel like I'm in heat or something. Nothing satisfies me. I don't know what to do anymore. When I do sleep, which is rare, I dream about him. And they're not just any dreams, either. Total erotica. I loathe him. I despise him. How can I want him like this? What's wrong with me? I desperately want to be normal, Hannah. Make me normal."
"You sound scared. Tell me what happened." Hannah used her most calming voice and breathed slowly, in and out, in the hopes that her sister would follow suit.
"He's like a drug addiction," Joley said, "I can't get over him no matter how hard I try. I need to come home. I need to be with you. I'm drowning here."
"Do you think your obsession for him will be better if you come home?" Hannah asked, her voice cautious. Joley was volatile when it came to Ilya Prakenskii. The connection between the two of them was strong, and seemed to be growing stronger.
Joley put her hand over her face, shaking her head, even though Hannah couldn't see her. "No. No, it won't. I went to a party tonight. I told myself I went because I couldn't sleep and I was bored, but I really went to see him."
"Did you go home with him?"
"No! I didn't, but I would have had sex with him." Joley squeezed her eyes shut tight. "He said no. He rejected me, Hannah, and that made me want him even more. He knows he has power over me. I feel like I'm caught in his trap and I can't get away."
"Is it possible he used a spell on you?"
"All of you examined me. You didn't find one. There's nothing but the zap on my palm and his voice in my head. He talks to me. His voice is so sexy, it turns me inside out. Except now he isn't talking and that feels so much worse. I'm really in trouble, Hannah." Joley knew she was talking too fast, but she couldn't stop herself. "I have to hear his voice, or I go crazy in my head. But if I reach out to him, he's won." She sank onto the bed. "Hannah. Tell me what to do."
"I'll come out."
Joley shook her head, forcing herself to do the right thing. Hannah had been brutally attacked and nearly died just a few short months earlier. The last thing she needed to do was to fly anywhere in public when she was still trying to heal. "No, no, we're leaving for Chicago in the morning. I can do this. I can get him out of my head."
She rubbed her palm frantically up and down her thigh. Ilya Prakenskii was already deep inside her and he wasn't going to let go of her without a fight. "Why do I go after men who bring out the absolute worst in me? I don't understand why I'm so different from all of you. Look at Libby. She wouldn't be attracted to a man like Ilya. Only me. Just me."
Joley sounded so filled with despair, Hannah was alarmed. "Look, hon, I'm catching the next plane. Hang on and I'll be there. I'll meet you in Chicago."
Joley wanted her sister to come. She felt safer when Hannah was around, when any of her sisters were with her, but she was an adult and this was her problem. She had to learn to manage her cravings for the Russian bodyguard because she knew the need wasn't going to just disappear. Hannah would ease the symptoms, but she couldn't stay forever and then the desire would be back at full strength and Joley would be right back where she started. She took a breath in an effort to calm down.
"I don't want you to come, Hannah. I just needed to hear your voice. Tomorrow I'll be onstage and the energy carries me a long way. I'll be all right. I just need to find a good, decent man. Maybe if I'm with someone who respects me and sees the good side of me, I'll get over my weakness for really bad men."
She'd tried being alone, refusing to date anyone, because she was attracted to the wrong sort of men, but once Ilya had come into her life, she couldn't think about anyone else, let alone the idea of someone else touching her. But she would get over that. People could change—she could change.
"Are you sure, Joley, because I don't mind?"
"I do. I don't want you to have to fly across the country to hold my hand." Besides, she was already losing her mind and knew she was already lost. Joley glanced around at the amazing mess she'd made of the hotel room, throwing a fit because Ilya Prakenskii wouldn't have sex with her. He'd made her feel cheap—no—she'd made herself feel that way, throwing herself at him because she needed sex—not just any sex—sex with him. And he was responsible for that, talking to her day and night in that incredibly seductive black velvet voice and zapping her palm so she itched and burned. Damn him.
She lifted her chin and took another calming breath. "I'm going to be fine."
"Joley, you're really upset. Don't pretend you aren't," Hannah cautioned. "That's when you always get into trouble. Think before you do anything."
"Why do people always say that to me?" Joley said. "He said I don't think. He said I needed a man to tell me what to do because I couldn't take care of myself. As if. He's stuck in the Stone Age."
Hannah knew she'd struck a nerve and tried to recover. "He is very dominating. I noticed that whenever he's around you and he doesn't like you to cross him."
"Well, he can go to hell. I don't know what game he's playing, but I'm not playing it with him. I'll be glad to get out of this city." Joley flung herself on the bed, trying not to notice that her body ached and she felt hollow and empty.
"Europe was good?" Hannah asked.
"Very good. We sold out every concert and we actually scheduled a few extra because the sales were so high and we hated turning away fans. I'm exhausted, but it was great."
"You had fantastic write-ups in the newspapers, and even the tabloids treated you fairly well. There were only a couple of scandals."
Joley laughed, and for the first time it was genuine. "I told the reporters to go easy on me because my parents believe all the lies they tell."
Hanna
h laughed with her. "I read that quote and knew you'd really said it. Mom's going to have few things to say to you."
"That's not unusual," Joley said. "Go back to sleep, Hannah. And tell my brother-in-law I love him, even though he's semi-friends with Prakenskii when he should be arresting him."
"I've got news."
There was a small silence while Joley sat up, the note in Hannah's voice tipping her off. "What?"
"Abbey is getting married next month, as soon as you get home. They're having the ceremony on the Drake beach and the reception here at our house. They only want immediate family at the ceremony. You know how Abbey is. And I'm pregnant."
"Oh my God! Oh my God! For real? You're going to have a baby for real?" Joley stopped, the smile fading from her face. "Wait a minute, Hannah. What does the doctor say? Are you sure you'll be all right? You're still not completely healed."
"Libby doesn't know if I'll be able to nurse. There's a lot of scar tissue, but we'll see. I'm so happy, Joley, and I can't wait for you to come home to share this with us."
"Libby's the best doctor in the world," Joley said of her sister. Libby had special healing gifts, and thanks to her, Hannah's scars were barely visible. "Jonas must be walking around with a big balloon head. What have you gone and done, Hannah? He's going to be impossible to live with."
"I heard that," Jonas called.
"Well, it's made him bossier," Hannah said, laughing.
Joley could hear the joy in her sister's voice, and deep inside, where no one could see, she wept for her own loneliness. She wanted someone to share life with, to laugh and cry and hold at night. Her life was spent moving from city to city in an endless tour of shows, living out of hotels and buses. She loved it, but she wanted someone with her. She was so happy for her beloved sister, Hannah, but Hannah's happiness only intensified her own lonely existence.
Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea Page 3