Yuri had been assigned to drive me to my house and Mikhail had insisted on coming along too. He didn’t dare touch me or degrade me in front of Yuri, but I’d had to suffer his thigh pressed against mine for the whole journey. And what Angelo had told me made it worse. I’d had to sit there knowing the evil that lay inside him, that the man touching me was the sort of monster who’d rape a woman and beat her half to death. Thinking of Angelo was the only thing that kept me from screaming. Just a little longer, I’d promised myself, and then we can be together.
It had worked. Yuri and Mikhail were now downstairs and I was in my bedroom. My bag was packed, my passport was in my hand. I was ready.
So why was I still sitting there, at three minutes to noon? I had to go, now, to meet Angelo.
This is everything you ever wanted, I told myself. Angelo was going to give up being a gangster. I would finally be free of my family. We could live out our lives somewhere where the sun could warm my skin. It could be paradise….
Two minutes to noon.
I kept thinking about what Yuri had said. As his surrogate daughter, I’d moderated Vasiliy, kept him warm—kept him human. When I’d pushed him away, Mikhail had stepped in to fill the void. He was gradually turning Vasiliy into a monster, no better than him. When Vasiliy had discovered my betrayal, it had pushed him even closer to Mikhail. If I walked away, soon there’d be nothing left of the man who’d raised me.
One minute to noon.
I opened the doors to the balcony and picked up my bag. I took a long look at myself in the mirror….
And then I slowly put the bag down in the middle of the floor and climbed down off the balcony without it.
* * *
Angelo let out a long sigh of relief when I ran up. He pushed the cab’s door open for me, then slammed it as soon as I was inside. “Go!” he told the cabbie. “Airport!”
Before I could speak, he gathered me into his arms and his lips found mine. Those big, warm hands slid up to tangle in my hair and he kissed me as if to make up for every second we’d been apart. I melted against his chest, his pecs like slabs of rock. God, he felt so good!
“But where’s your bag?” he asked when he finally broke the kiss. Then he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We can buy you new stuff.”
He looked so different. It was the first time I’d seen him in anything other than a suit. He looked younger, as if a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. How could I possibly suggest that he take it back?
The cab sped on towards the airport. It was bliss, sitting there beside him, soaking up the warmth from his body, our whole lives before us...but inside, my soul was screaming at me. Every minute that ticked by was making it worse. Tell him, tell him, tell him!
“We can’t leave,” I said at last, my face buried in his chest.
I felt him look down at me. “The hell we can’t.”
I swallowed. “I don’t have my passport.”
He pushed me back from him. “What?!”
I bit my lip. “I knew if I brought it, you’d talk me round. We can’t leave.” I glanced out of the window. We were on the highway, now, and the airport was close enough that we could hear the jets in the distance. “We have to talk.” I looked meaningfully at the cabbie—what I had to say, I didn’t want to say in front of him.
Angelo was still staring at me, aghast. “Pull over,” he told the cabbie at last.
The cabbie craned around. “Here?”
“Do it.”
The cabbie cursed and pulled over by the side of the highway. Angelo tossed him some bills and we got out. It wasn’t snowing, but a thick layer coated everything, giving even the crash barriers beside the highway a soft edge. The traffic was too loud for us to talk so I started walking up the grassy rise that lay alongside the highway. Angelo followed. “What is this bullshit?” he asked.
I shook my head. “We can’t leave.”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face him. “Yes we can. We can go anywhere we want. Paris. Rome. Fucking Kuala Lumpur!”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to just go with him and, if I looked into those brown and amber eyes one more time, I’d give in. “You always told me how important this was. How people need you in Little Italy. How it was your dad’s legacy.” I pulled free and started walking up the rise again.
“Fuck all that!” he snapped. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’s all just bullshit. You were right. Russians aren’t any different to Italians. We shouldn’t be killing each other.”
My heart was breaking. He’d changed so much, he’d come around to everything I’d tried to convince him of, and now I had to undo it all. Because the truth was, we were both right. I reached the top of the rise: ahead, it sloped steeply down to an empty field covered in crisp, unbroken snow.
I took Angelo’s hand and led him down the slope with me, the traffic noise dying away behind us. It felt ridiculous, leading him along: he was so big and his whole body was tense and straining with anger. He could have so easily pulled away or towed me along with him, but he followed. When I looked across at him, the need I saw in his expression almost made me crumble before I got a word out. All he wanted in the entire world was for me to run away with him. Why can’t I just go?
Because I’d finally figured out what my destiny was. Vasiliy had been trying to tell me all along and I’d refused to listen: I was a Malakov and I had a role to play.
“We have to stay,” I said, “because we’re the only ones who can stop this thing. I’m the only one who can come between Mikhail and Vasiliy and get Vasiliy to talk peace. You’re the only one who can control your guys and stop this getting worse and worse.”
“Vasiliy hates me,” Angelo said. “He’ll never talk peace with me. If I leave and someone new comes in, maybe they’ll do better.”
We reached the bottom of the slope and stood looking out across the field. It was surprisingly quiet here, the hill doing a good job of blocking the traffic noise. “Who’ll pick your replacement, if you leave?” I asked gently.
“My bosses. The Saints.”
“And will they pick someone who’ll talk peace? Or will they pick someone who’ll keep the war going?”
I could see him struggling with it. He wanted to deny it, but he knew I was right. “They hate the Russians. Shit. They’ll keep it going until we’re all dead.”
I nodded. “And hundreds of Russians will die, too.”
Angelo stood and turned from me, his massive shoulders hunched in rage. He suddenly turned and kicked the snow, a huge fantail of it flying through the air. “I don’t want this fucking job!” he bellowed. “Not anymore! I just want you!”
“I never wanted to be a Malakov,” I said, lifting my chin. “But I’ve finally realized that the only thing worse than being involved in this stuff is running from it. We can’t run because we’re part of it, Angelo. We’re holding up the freakin’ building. If we run, like I tried to when I came to New York, it all comes down.”
He took a long breath in. “What about us?” he said at last.
“We wait. We go home and we do what we have to do. I talk Vasiliy into stopping the attacks. If you can hold your guys back from retaliating, maybe we can get a ceasefire. Then maybe, maybe, I can get Vasiliy to talk peace. And when it’s all done...maybe we can be together. But this is more important than us.”
He took my face between his hands. “Nothing is more important! Nothing is more important than you!” He looked away. Looked back at me. “I love you.”
I wasn’t ready for how hard that hit me. It struck me square in the chest and lit me up, the warmth radiating out to every cell of my body. And instead of dissipating and fading, it glowed, a deep, fiery heat that made me ache and pulse every time I looked at him. Despite everything, I couldn’t stop myself grinning. “I love you, too,” I managed, my voice breaking. And I saw his whole face soften, those brown and amber eyes suddenly vulnerable for a second.
I swallowed. “There are lives at stake. A lot of lives. We started this; we have to finish it.” I lifted my chin and looked at him defiantly. “Because what’s the alternative? Are you really going to get on a plane knowing that everything you said you’d protect is burning? Because that’s not the Angelo I know. That’s not the guy I fell for.”
He ducked his head and pressed his cheek to mine, the heat of him warming me as the freezing wind whipped my hair against the other cheek. “Irina,” he said simply. But my name contained all the anger, all the pain, all the lust that I’d brought to him.
“Do you wish you’d never met me?” I asked. My eyes were suddenly wet, burning saltiness threatening to overspill.
His big hands squeezed my shoulders hard and he crushed me against his chest. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” He kissed the soft skin below my ear, then followed the line of my jaw to my lips and kissed me, long and deep. “Alright, we’ll wait. We’ll sort this mess out. But you’ve got to promise me: when all this is done, we’re going to be together.”
I pressed my face to his chest and snuggled my cheek into the deep, hard line between his pecs. “I promise.”
He pushed me back from him and his lips met mine, hard against my softness. The raw heat of him made me melt, my body wilting against his and my mouth flowering open. He took possession of me, hands stroking across my cheeks and into my hair, fingers sinking deep into it as if it was the best thing he’d ever felt. His tongue sought out mine and I came alive, flexing and writhing against him as we twisted and danced, my breasts soft against his chest. The kiss changed. The mood changed. I could feel the outline of his cock against his thigh, already hot and hard and still swelling.
It felt like weeks since we’d seen each other. We didn’t know when we’d see each other again.
Suddenly, his hands were on the buttons of my coat, popping them one by one with quick efficiency. By the time I broke the kiss, it was already open to my waist. “We can’t,” I panted, looking around. We were two black-clad figures at the edge of a vast white space. We must have been visible for miles. “Not here!”
“Fuck ‘em,” panted Angelo. “If anyone’s watching, let’s give them a good show.” And he unbuttoned my coat the rest of the way, flinging the sides open. Underneath, I was in a rust-colored sweater and black skirt with black leggings. He shoved the coat down my arms and then tossed it down on the snow.
He started kissing me again, this time open-mouthed and hungry, and I groaned as I felt his hands slide down over my ass and squeeze. Then they were rising, slipping beneath the hem of my sweater to stroke the bare skin beneath. God, his warmth felt so good, his palms sliding over my back as if sculpting it, then his thumbs circling on my stomach. “We can’t,” I gasped again, having to twist my head to the side to escape his furious kissing. “It’s freezing!” I left a cloud of white in the air when I said it, proving my point.
“I thought you didn’t mind the cold?” he growled. “Besides, I’ll warm you up.” And his hands rose higher, up over my back, stroking over the elastic of my bra, then around to my front, cupping my breasts, squeezing them lightly, thumbs finding the nipples through the bra and rubbing, Oh God….
His hands slid behind me again. Suddenly the clasp was free and my bra went loose across my breasts. His hands were on me in an instant, palming my breasts, the nipples stiffening automatically at his touch. My breath quickened, hitching faster and faster with each brush of his hands—God, I was aching for him. He never stopped kissing me, first sucking my top lip into his mouth and nibbling gently on it, then drawing my lower lip oh-so-slowly down, leaving me quivering. My nipples were between his thumbs and forefingers now, the nubs tight and hard as he rolled and stroked, the heat pumping straight down between my legs….
Angelo growled as if he couldn’t wait any longer. He grabbed the hem of my sweater and drew it slowly upwards, taking my bra with it. I lifted my arms over my head to help him but he didn’t speed up: he drew the fabric up over me as slowly as if he was unveiling a statue. I could feel his eyes on each inch of my bare skin as it was revealed: my stomach, my chest...when the sweater’s hem reached my breasts, he slowed down almost to a stop, the fabric rising millimeter by slow millimeter.
The top of it was already over my head, trapping me in a cocoon of warmth, thin enough that it was translucent but thick enough that it mostly blindfolded me. I could see the brightness of the snow around us and the huge, dark shape of him in front of me, but not details. I didn’t need to see him to know where he was looking, though. I could feel his eyes eating me up, devouring my breasts as they gradually appeared. The icy air blew across my naked back and over my breasts, my nipples throbbing and ultra-sensitive, every little gust of wind magnified a thousand fold.
The dark shape in front of me leaned forward and I squealed as a hot mouth enveloped one breast. The heat of his tongue after the freezing air was shocking, oven-hot and slickly wet. I had to press my thighs hard together, my ass describing an “S” in the air as I swayed and ground, the heat rising and building inside me.
Then the sweater was tugged up and off me, falling to the ground with my bra tangled within it. My hair fell around my shoulders, strands tickling against my bare skin. I let out a long breath, forming a soft cloud of vapor in the air between us.
He put his hands on my waist and ran them up and down my sides, the heels of his hands just brushing the sides of my breasts—it was as if he was teasing himself, drawing out the moment before he’d take them in his hands again. Those brown and amber eyes were burning, now, his gaze a scalding trail across my skin. He let a long, shuddering gasp of lust, the white cloud it left mixing with mine. Finally, when he couldn’t bear it any longer, he filled his hands with my breasts and pulled me close, squeezing rhythmically, his thumbs brushing across my nipples as he kissed me hard and deep.
The wind picked up, freezing one side of my body. I pressed myself hard against him, letting the warmth of him soak into me through his clothes. My hands wound around his back and slid up under his jacket and sweater, tracing the hard lines of his muscles. I started to ease his jacket down his arms and off even as he unzipped my skirt. Both of us were frantic, now, needing to feel each other’s bodies. His jacket hit the snow and then, a second later, my skirt fell around my feet.
I lifted his sweater and t-shirt up and over his head, kissing my way up his exposed chest an inch behind the rising hem. The hardness of his abs against the softness of my lips made me crazy, the heat inside me twisting, becoming tight and frantic. I kissed up his centerline, over smooth tan skin and then up to the dark ink of the angel wings tattoo, lips tracing first one broad, curved pec and then the other, my hands sliding around his shoulders.
The heat of him blazed across the space that separated us, searing away the cold. I crushed my body to his, me soft and cold and him iron hard and throbbing with warmth, and it was the best thing I’d felt in my life. He wrapped his arms around my naked back and I knew I’d never want to be cold or numb again.
His hands slid under the waistband of my leggings and panties and palmed my ass, then started rolling the fabric down my thighs. I caught my breath as the wind whipped across my exposed sex, but the cold only made the heat inside pulse faster and hotter. My hands found the belt of his jeans and I tugged the buckle open. His cock strained against the heavy fabric and then tented his jockey shorts as his jeans fell. I ran the tips of my fingers over it and saw it twitch, thick and hard and fiercely hot. I was panting, now. I needed that heat inside me.
I kicked off my shoes, stepping back onto my coat and then stripping my leggings the rest of the way off. I was naked, except for the necklace he’d given me.
“I said I’d fuck you, with you wearing just that,” he murmured, brushing it with his fingers. He pushed down his jockey shorts and his cock sprang free, gorgeous and brutal, the silken head pointing at the sky. He drew it down so that it pointed right at the soft curls of blonde hair between my thigh
s. “Now I’m going to.”
I didn’t so much lie down as sink, my knees buckling at the thought of what we were going to do. He stood there naked, legs braced a little way apart, the cold wind whipping across his tattooed chest, his tan skin beautiful against the snow. I lay on my back, the outspread coat my only protection against the snow. And yet despite the freezing ground and the cold wind, I wasn’t shivering. The heat inside me was now furnace-bright and expanding fast. I lifted my knees and stepped my feet apart, welcoming him in, and saw his cock twitch in response.
He knelt between my thighs, retrieved a condom from his pants and rolled it on, and then his hips were spreading my legs. The thick head of him brushed the sensitive skin of my inner thighs once, twice...and then it kissed up against the lips of my sex. God, I hadn’t realized how wet I was. My breath started to come in quick little pants, the clouds of mist breaking against his chest as he lowered himself atop me, his hard body burning hot against mine.
He kissed me on the lips once, then started to kiss down my neck and across my shoulder, his tongue quick and expert on my collarbone. He kissed me with that perfect blend of care and roughness. I was a princess to be worshipped...but a princess he was going to damn well ravish and make his. I moved beneath him, flexing and twisting, rubbing my body against his like a cat. The hard ridges of his abs stroked along my stomach, the deep diagonal lines of his Adonis belt stroking at the tops of my thighs. With every breath I took, my chest touched his: soft, sinful breast and nipple grazing sculpted pec and heavenly angel feathers. And then I felt the head of his cock stroking, pushing, spreading me wide….
My eyes fluttered open and I stared up into a white sky as he slid into me, my arms coming up to clasp around his shoulders. My ass come up off the coat, my back arching as he stretched me just right...and then my head tilted back, chin pointed at the sky, as he filled me in a hot rush. The heat of him met my own twisting, aching need and we combined and blazed even hotter. I heard him groan in satisfaction. “Jesus,” he whispered, his lips at my ear. “Jesus, Irina, you feel so good.”
Kissing The Enemy Page 19