She faced him, her gaze sharpening. “My car. You’re the reason it got fixed so quickly.”
Ever his reporter, piecing together details even when they were best left untouched. He’d be wise to be mindful of that as they moved forward together. Particularly where details of his business were concerned. “I paid them a visit and inquired as to the problem, yes.”
“How’d you know where I took it to get fixed?”
“There was a receipt by your sofa when I visited. I noted the business name and followed a hunch.”
Her mouth parted, the surprise on her face unmistakable.
“You aren’t the only person capable of investigations, Miss McClintock. I’ve been known to track down a clue or two on my own.”
She sat back in her chair and stared out the windshield, her hands clasped around her purse. “And the cost...did you fix that, too?”
A tricky answer. In Russia, a woman would expect such an action. Men demonstrated their ability to provide and care for them by any means necessary. But in America? Not so straightforward.
He opted for the blunt approach. “I did. A timing chain is very expensive, and you’ve just incurred the cost of moving. To have you field repair costs as well when I’m more than capable of covering them was unnecessary.”
She twisted her head his direction. “The guy told me it was something to do with a belt.”
“There was a problem there, too. I only paid for the timing chain.” He paused a beat and forced some levity into his voice. “You see? I didn’t totally absorb the expense.”
Whether she decided to accept the response, or was merely holding further arguments until they were inside her home, she kept her silence while he parked and helped her from the car.
At her doorstep, he held out his hand. “Give me your key, Cassie.”
For a moment, he thought she’d balk, the tight pinch of her lips and death grip on her purse indicating a hesitancy that made him bristle. She opened the tiny clutch instead. “We definitely need to talk.”
“I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it.” He took the keys she offered, opened the door and motioned her through. “Let me get the lights.”
He closed the door and locked it, flipped on the single lamp for the living room, then located an under-cabinet light in the kitchen and turned it on as well.
Still watching him from the far side of her tiny living room, Cassie dove right in. “You were right. About your family, I mean. They’re not at all what I expected them to be.”
Kir rounded the kitchen counter, but did so slowly to give her time to say what she needed to say.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “Sergei’s a pretty scary-looking guy when he’s not smiling, but tonight went much different than I thought it would.”
“I’m glad you see them as I do.”
“I do. I get it now.” She stepped a little closer and laid her purse on the coffee table, the gesture tentative. “But you still can’t tell me that Sergei and those of you who work for him play by the rules.”
There it was. The truth of the matter laid bare, yet with care and deliberation. Which was fine by him. “We play by the rules—our own.”
“Kir, your rules don’t count were the law is concerned.”
He inched closer, more aware than he’d ever been in his life of the importance in how he traversed the next few moments. “You report on reality every day. How often does the law get it right?”
Her gaze shifted to the side and grew distant, that agile mind of hers clearly evaluating the question he’d posed. Given the frown that deepened with each subsequent second, he’d struck a powerful point.
Kir closed what was left of the distance between them and cupped the sides of her arms. Beneath his palms, her skin was pebbled with goose bumps. He smoothed his hands between her elbow and shoulders and lowered his voice. “My family helps those who need help. Yes, we also further our business interests whenever and wherever we can, but we do not do it on the backs of those who want no part in our work. We do not hurt innocents or force people to our will—not unless their actions threaten those under our protection.”
“And what happens to the people who threaten those under your protection?” The way she whispered her question it seemed as though she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted the answer.
“It depends on the transgression.”
“Your own brand of justice. Judge, jury and executioner.”
He anchored his hands at her shoulders, held her stare and gave her the truth. “You met Sergei tonight. You met his wife. The child he’s accepted as his own. The kind of people he surrounds himself with. I followed him to this country because of who he is. Because of his vision—not just for personal success, but for bringing back old traditions that once served communities in a positive way.
“Yes, we are bratva. Mafiya, if you want to call it that. But, in the right hands, who’s to say that our brand of justice is wrong?”
She held her silence and studied him. A bit of shock at his boldness definitely painted her expression, but there was consideration, too. A woman reevaluating decisions made and future possibilities.
He slid his hands inward, teasing the line of her collarbone with his thumbs. She had amazing skin. So soft. Like the softest powder and silk combined. Never had he enjoyed touching a woman so much as when he’d lain with her. The feel of her beneath his hands and her uninhibited response.
“I understand your fear,” he said. “All you’ve known are the movies you’ve seen and reports in the news. But my family is not like any other.” A few more inches inward and his thumb grazed the fluttering pulse at her throat. His was just as ragged. Unsteady and quivering at the mere thought of the words still poised on his tongue.
He forged ahead anyway. Honored the instinct pushing him to take and claim what was his. What something in him had always recognized on the most primal level. “You are a part of it now.”
She trembled, and her breath hitched, eyes widening like that of a startled doe even though hunger and need burned behind them. “That’s the part we need to talk about. We were just supposed to be partners. I was going to help you and look for stories along the way.”
“I changed my mind. You will not help me on this matter any longer. We will not be partners.” He couldn’t help himself anymore. Didn’t want to. Had kept himself in check and lied to himself and her long enough. He slid one hand upward and cupped the back of her head, the other coasting down her spine and pulling her flush against him. “You will be mine.”
He kissed her. Swallowed her startled gasp and reveled in her taste. In the sweet give of her lips beneath his as she slowly surrendered, and the soft press of her body.
This was why her denial had cut so deeply. No matter how his mind had spun it to cushion his ego after the fact, their connection was electric. Powerful as only something this natural could be. There was no awkwardness. No feigned response or tepid reactions, but an intrinsic connectedness that both rattled and awakened him.
He fisted his hand in her hair, the barbarous need to feel her bare skin against his and her arms and legs coiled around him as he took her more incentivizing than a gun pressed against the back of his head.
But he couldn’t go there with her. Not yet. Not until he knew she was with him. That she understood what she was stepping into and who and what he really was.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead on hers, praying for control. For the right words and actions.
“Kir.” His name on her lips was a plea, her breath just as ragged as his own. She pulled her head away from his and met his gaze. “We need to talk about this. What you’re suggesting...it’s too fast. We barely even know—”
“Did you feel that?” His lips hovered close to hers. “How it felt to have your mouth against mine? How your body’s still shaking from a simple kiss?�
�
She licked her lower lip, a hesitant yet deliciously tempting act that stoked his barely contained control. If the subtle move hadn’t given away her thoughts, the wide dilation of her pupils and how heavily her eyelids hung would have answered for her.
“I know that I have never felt that response with any other woman,” he said, rather than give her what they both wanted. “I know that we see eye to eye on many issues, and that you are as driven as I am to succeed at whatever you do. I know that we both have pasts that fuel our desire to prove ourselves. That I find your mind as intoxicating as your body, and that I could listen to you talk about anything for hours. Time will fill in the details for me, but right now, you are clarity enough.”
A shaky breath whispered past her parted lips. “You can’t mean that.”
“I never say anything I don’t mean.” He pulled back enough to make sure she saw every bit of his expression. The truth of his words echoed behind his eyes. “I made a mistake letting you walk away from me the first time. I will not make that mistake again and I will not stop until you agree. You and I will be. The only unknown is how long it will take for you to accept and surrender to what is inevitable.”
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, the barrier of his jacket doing little to disguise the uncertainty and fear behind her grip. Her gaze shifted from one side to the other, distant and yet frantic. As though her mind desperately sought steady purchase. A foothold to keep her from plummeting into the unknown.
He gentled his arms around her. Skimmed his thumb along her nape and teased his lips against hers. “It’s all right, Cassie. You have nothing to fear. Not from me. Not from my family. Not from anyone.” He pressed his mouth to hers, the fit as perfect and intimate as their bodies once had been. As they would be again.
“I’m not afraid of your family,” she whispered. “Or you.”
“Then what?”
Her eyelids lifted slowly, such honesty and vulnerability shining from behind her blue-gray eyes. “I don’t know how to be a part of something like you have. My family is nothing like yours. I don’t know how to be anything but single Cassie figuring out how to do things on her own.”
He cupped her face. “You don’t need to know, vozlyublennaya. All you need to do is let go.”
He should have waited. Should have given her time to voice whatever concerns lingered.
But the tentative hope and need written on her face was too great. His own fears and impatience too powerful to risk logic taking the upper hand. He claimed her mouth. Kissed her with all the determination in him. Willed her to understand all the unspoken fears and faith now laid at her feet with each sweep of his tongue.
Bit by bit, she relaxed within the circle of his arms. Sighed into his kiss and slipped her hands inside his jacket, her palms eagerly stroking his chest.
It was all the acquiescence he needed. At least for now. If he could touch her—stoke the embers that had burned between them from the very start—it would give him all the time he needed to teach her. To court her the way she deserved.
He covered one of her hands with his and forced himself to relinquish her mouth. “No more talking.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “Not unless the words coming from your mouth are to ask me for more, or say my name when you come.”
Gaze rooted on the spot where he’d kissed on her hand, a tremor moved through her. “For a man who speaks English as a second language, you’re way too good with words.”
“Am I?” He tried to fight what he was sure was a devious smile, but it was pointless. His beast had had enough of waiting and wanting. He stepped backward, using his grip on her hand to pull her forward. “I seem to recall you were quite fond of my verbal skills in the bedroom.”
Another step.
Then another. Down the short hallway toward her room, all the while maintaining his hold on her hand.
“My oral skills, too.”
While she didn’t fight following where he led, her steps slowed, and the sway of her hips grew slightly more pronounced. Her lips curved in a sly grin, and her eyes sparked with fun and mischief. “I never said anything about your bedroom skills.”
“No? I could have sworn you commented on them.” Clear of the doorway and within a foot of her bed, he tugged her off balance and spun her so the back of her knees met the mattress. He stopped her momentum with a steady hand at her back. Only the glow from the lights in the living room and kitchen broke the darkness. “I guess I’ll have to a do a better job of making an impression tonight then, won’t I?”
Whether it was her gasp he stifled crushing his mouth to hers, or a clever retort, he couldn’t tell. He also wasn’t about to stop and find out. Her taste was too potent. Her passion and the greedy way her hands roamed his chest, belly and back too enticing to do anything but forge ahead.
He sampled the skin along her neck and peeled the delicate straps of her romper over her shoulders.
She shoved his jacket past his shoulders and threw it aside.
Her shoes.
His shirt.
Her romper, and his belt.
Every item that stood in their way went the way of the floor in a flurry of quick, impatient movements until all that was left were his pants and his briefs beneath.
He teased the line of her collarbone with his tongue and skimmed his hands from the tops of her thighs, over her hips to her waist. “Lie back for me. I want to see what’s mine.”
“You’ve already seen me.” Head dropped back and eyes closed, her voice was breathless, but the husky confidence was utterly delicious. She lifted her head and slowly opened her eyes. “And whether or not I’m yours is still open for debate.”
Bozhe, she was sexy. A sensual goddess that appealed to him on every level. “A challenge is it?” He toppled her backward, but caught her head before it hit the mattress, his knees braced on either side of her and one hand anchored beside her head. “I do love a challenge. Especially when the prize is as exquisite as you.”
She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his slacks and worked the fasteners. “Kir, stop talking. Start doing.”
“Oh, no.” He stilled her hands and backed off the bed. “Getting you naked quickly was one thing, but rushing the rest of it? That will not happen.”
A tiny sliver of moonlight cut between the drapes closed over the windows and highlighted a small lamp on her nightstand. Kir clicked it on.
Soft white light further dimmed from the lamp’s dark shade cast the room in a comfortable glow. Like the rest of the house, the room was a riot of color—pillows the color of a mango, drapes to match Caribbean waters and walls painted a comforting shade of green.
But the real focus was Cassie. With the bold red silk comforter beneath her, her silvery-blonde hair, blue-gray eyes and smooth, porcelain skin were even more pronounced. Like an ethereal goddess sent straight from heaven to save him from his past.
She rolled to her side, cocked her elbow and rested her head on her hand. While her figure was more that of a runway model than pinup girl, the sexy way she drew one of her knees inward accented the curve of her hip. “One of us has too many clothes on. If you’re going to stare, the least you can do is balance the equation.”
Balance? There would never be real balance between them. Not so long as the impulse to see to her needs and keep her for his own burned as bright as it did in this moment. As it had since the day he’d laid eyes on her.
And that had been the biggest fear he’d had to face. His father had shown no limits with his mother and paid the ultimate price.
You are worth another’s love and trust as well, brother. Don’t let your parents’ past rob you of it.
Cassie wasn’t his mother. Wasn’t greedy. Wasn’t a liar and didn’t use people. She’d proven her character the day she’d shown up at Bacchanal, offered her humble apology and the truth behind her actions.
So much warmth and concern behind her voice. He wanted to hear it every day. To have those inquisitive and caring eyes aimed at him as he crawled into bed at the end of the day. To have the same unwavering support and partnership Sergei had earned with Evette.
“Nyet.” He pushed his pants and briefs past his hips and kicked them aside. “Everything is exactly as it should be.”
Her gaze locked onto his straining sex, and her lips parted. “Well, it’s definitely better now.” She lifted her attention to his face. “Though, I could appreciate the moment a whole lot more if my hands could get involved.”
“Only your hands?” He planted one knee in the bed, guided her to her back, then stretched out on his side beside her. The warmth of her body and light, sexy perfume enveloped him. Tempted him to close the scant inches between them and add the sweet press of her silky skin into the mix.
He teased the sensitive stretch just beneath her belly button with the backs of his knuckles, but stopped just short of the pale trimmed curls atop her sex. “The way you were staring at my cock, I thought perhaps you were planning something more treacherous.”
She whimpered and flexed her hips into his touch. Her eyes slipped closed and her voice dropped to a husky rasp. “If you keep teasing me and taking forever, I might find a way or two to torture you, and it won’t be the pleasurable kind.”
He chuckled at that and continued his unhurried exploration. Up the line of her sternum. Along the lower swell of each breast. Circling each nipple until both drew to a taut peak. “There is no reason for you to be impatient, milaya. I have every intention of seeing to your needs.” More than she probably yet comprehended.
But he’d get her there.
One day—one touch at a time.
She rolled to her side, facing him. “What if my need is to feel you?” She coasted her fingers from his forearm to his shoulder, a featherlight touch that sent shockwaves out in all directions. “To feel your skin against mine and your weight pressing me into the bed.” Her hand dipped inward, her palm smoothing against his pecs then between them to his abdomen. “What if I don’t want you to go slow?” Lower so her thumb drew a path just parallel to his sex and made it jerk with anticipation. “What if I want you to take me hard and fast now so we can take our time later?”
Hers to Tame Page 13