by Zoe Blake
He leaned back. “Let’s get out of here.”
I blinked, still caught in his sensual haze. “What?”
He licked my bottom lip. “I need you back in my bed, under my roof. Not here.”
I pulled the blankets up to cover my breasts. “I can’t just leave. They’ll wonder where I went.”
“They think you’re up here napping. Come on.”
“What if they notice I’m gone? They’ll ask where I am.”
“And I’ll tell them you’re with me.”
The Leo in me whispered, Do it. Why not?
My head turned to stare at the entrance to the bathroom. My cheeks flamed at the memory of my attacking him in my grief and him fucking me senseless in the shower less than an hour earlier. “My clothes are all wet.”
“I’ll check the yellow suite,” he offered. “Maybe you left something behind in there.”
He returned a few minutes later. “I could only find this.” He held up a cobalt blue short skirt with a small pink daisy pattern on it. “Wait.” He walked over to one of the large cabinets which doubled as closets and opened it. He pulled out a white V-neck t-shirt. “Here. Arms up.”
I kneeled up on the bed, letting the blanket slip to my hips, and obeyed. He pulled the shirt down my arms and over my head. Placing a hand around the nape of my neck, he untucked my riot of curls and fluffed them over my shoulders and down my back.
He took a step back and tilted his head as his gaze wandered over me.
I blushed at his scrutiny.
I was wearing his t-shirt.
It was such a girlfriend-boyfriendy thing to be doing.
This was precisely the kind of thing I thought of when I allowed myself to dream about being with Mikhail.
“It’s a bit big,” he pointed out.
I laughed. That was an understatement. What was probably a t-shirt on him was a dress that reached practically to my knees.
He pulled the fabric around my waist tight and knotted it. He smiled. “Much better.”
I looked down and gasped. It was now pulled taut over my breasts, making them seem way bigger than they really were, and showing off my pink nipples through the thin white fabric. I covered my chest with my forearms. “I can’t wear this!”
“Just be glad I’m letting you put the skirt on,” he growled with a suggestive look between my legs.
I looked down and immediately dove under the covers and curled up on my side. I'd been so enthralled with watching him knot the fabric around my waist, I'd failed to notice that, with it bunched up, it exposed my pussy and ass.
Mikhail swatted my butt through the covers. “Come on. The house is quiet. Now’s the time to make our escape.”
I reached out and pulled the skirt over the covers and under the blanket with me. I wriggled into it, ignoring Mikhail’s bemused expression.
“You know I’ve practically licked every inch of your body by now?”
“It doesn’t mean I’m used to… to… whatever… this is,” I exclaimed with a wave of my hand between the two of us.
Fully dressed, I finally emerged out from under the blankets. Mikhail grabbed my pink Doc Martens and knelt at my feet.
“I can do that,” I objected.
He winked. “I know, but I want to do it.”
He grasped one leg just beneath my knee and ran his hand down my calf to lift my foot. He pushed on one boot, letting it rest between his legs as he loosely laced it up. He then did the same with my other leg. Running his large warm hands over my skin, giving me goosebumps with every touch. How did this man have the power to turn such a mundane thing like putting on a pair of boots into something wicked? When he was finished lacing the second boot, he caressed the tops of my thighs, pushing his hands beneath the hem of my skirt. I held my breath. The tip of one fingertip caressed my pussy.
He leaned in close. “I love the fact only I will know my naughty girl is not wearing any panties.”
Oh. My. God.
He grasped my hand and pulled me up. “Let’s go home.”
Home?
Did he say home?
Maybe it was just a figure of speech. I had enough on my plate without over-analyzing every little word or phrase that came out of the man’s mouth, I cautioned myself.
He held onto my hand as we walked down the hallway. I tried to pull it back when we reached the stairs in case we encountered anyone on the lower level, but he only tightened his grip. An excited, illicit thrill fluttered in my stomach. We were playing with fire. If my brothers saw us, there would be hell to pay. It was like I was a teenager sneaking out with my bad boy boyfriend.
When we got to the entryway, Mikhail gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’ll go bring the car around.”
As he left, I swiveled my head from left to right to make sure we weren’t observed. The house seemed pretty quiet. Yelena and Damien had gone back to their place, and Samara was probably in her painting studio in the other wing to take advantage of the bright afternoon sunlight. I looked down the dark hallway to the right. I bit my lower lip in indecision. If Samara was in her studio, that meant Gregor might be alone in his study. It would be easier to talk to my brothers about Mikhail one at a time instead of trying to take them both on at once.
Peeking through the side window next to the front door, I didn’t see Mikhail yet. He must have gotten waylaid going to his car. After taking a deep breath, I headed down the shadowed corridor. On one side were the disapproving, thin-lipped sneers of my ancestors, memorialized in somber browns and blacks surrounded by ornate gilt frames. On the other was one long tapestry in black and gold depicting a traditional stag hunt. Gregor was many things, but subtle was not one of them. Anyone who approached his study, or as I usually thought of it, his lair, knew precisely what they were getting into. The weight of the powerful Ivanov name on one side, a not-so-subtle warning of their hunting prowess on the other.
My heart was beating in my chest so loud I had to strain to hear if there were any noises coming from the study. Stopping just out of view, I tilted my head and listened. Nothing. This was so silly. Gregor was my brother. I loved him and he loved me. There was no reason to be nervous. Sure, he and Damien had actively discouraged any hope of a relationship between me and Mikhail for years, but there wasn’t any reason to believe they would still be against it now that I was twenty-one and capable of making my own decisions.
My heart was beating so fast it was making me dizzy. I shook my hands in an effort to release the stiff tension in my fingers. I turned and stepped over the threshold. It took a moment for my gaze to focus on the space behind his desk and realize the room was empty. I released the breath I was holding in a huff.
On second thought, this was for the best. I should wait till I had a better idea what was happening between Mikhail and me before I talked with my brothers. It wasn’t like we were in some rush to the altar or anything. It had barely been twelve hours since he kissed me for the first time in three years, for heaven's sake. I could stir up a bunch of shit, and it could all be for nothing. Mikhail could change his mind about us… or I could. This was all still crazy new and crazy insane. This could have just been shock from my near-death experience last night. Or stirred up emotions after seeing Samara and Gregor get married. That kind of thing happened at weddings all the time. People got all emotional and sentimental at seeing a couple in love and wanted that for themselves. It felt deeper, but what did I really know about boyfriends and love?
Mikhail and I needed time to just slow things down — way down. Maybe have a little fun dating in secret for a while, before we made any major decisions. It would give me time to get to know the real him, not this image of him I'd built up in my mind over the years.
I returned to the entryway to see Mikhail exiting the driver’s side of the car. I walked out to greet him and smiled when I realized he had only gotten out so he could open the passenger door for me. He returned behind the wheel, and eased the car down the long, tree-lined driveway. I re
ached for the seat belt but then stopped and folded my hands in my lap, hoping maybe he would do the move again. A minute later, before we pulled out onto the busy neighborhood street, Mikhail leaned over and grabbed the shoulder strap of my seat belt and buckled me in.
I slipped my lips over my teeth to quell my smile. Eek! Buckling the seat belt for me was such a cute and sexy, girlfriend-boyfriendy thing for him to do. I leaned back into my seat and watched the houses go by as I imagined all the fun dating things we were going to do the next few months. I think I could definitely get used to calling Mikhail my boyfriend.
Chapter 25
Nadia
I blinked several times, certain I hadn't heard him right. “What do you mean we’re getting married?”
It was frightening how quickly things went sideways.
It started when, after parking in his penthouse garage, Mikhail pulled a familiar-looking suitcase and purse out of the trunk.
I snatched up the black leather hobo bag and looked inside. My cellphone with the charger still attached was right on top. Underneath it was my wallet and now useless apartment and shop keys. I pointed to the small black carry-on bag. “Is that my suitcase?”
Mikhail nodded. “I only grabbed a few items from the boxes. We’ll go back in a few days to grab the rest of your stuff.”
Um, what?
When did we discuss me automatically spending the night here? Let alone moving in?
He grabbed my hand and led me onto the elevator. After punching in the security code, the doors closed, and it whisked us to the top floor. I watched the small numbers illuminate and used them as my version of counting to ten.
When we were inside his penthouse, Mikhail picked up my suitcase and walked toward the bedroom.
Tossing my purse on the kitchen counter, I tried to stop him. “You can just leave that in front… for now.”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the entryway near the door where I pointed. Then, without saying a word, he turned and continued into the bedroom.
I paced a few times in the living room till I heard him in the kitchen.
He was slightly bent over pulling items out of the refrigerator. He had changed into a pair of silky-looking black workout pants and a slim fitting t-shirt. Damn, the man had the greatest ass. It was all hard and curved with that hollow divot on the side of each cheek. The t-shirt showed off all the amazingly colorful tattoos on his forearms and up his shoulders.
I swallowed. It was going to be really hard to focus.
He put some eggs, a tomato, and a small container of feta cheese on the counter. “Hungry? I’m not a great cook, but I can make a pretty mean omelette,” he said with a wink.
Dammit. He was being all cute and sexy, boyfriendy right now. Maybe I was just over-analyzing this?
Shifting the crystal salt and pepper shakers across the counters between my hands, I gathered my courage and tried to keep my voice casual. “What did you mean when you said ‘get the rest of my stuff’?”
He glanced over his shoulder at me as he placed a skillet on the stovetop and turned the knob to medium-high heat. “You know, your clothes and stuff. Your things. I’m going to move the furniture out of the spare bedroom and set up a workshop for you in there. I figure that should work till I can find you a new space for your shop.”
I grabbed the saltshaker so hard small red crescents formed on my palms from my nails. “Till you find me a space?”
He continued as if he hadn’t even heard me. “Of course, we may want to wait till we find a house. We don’t want your shop to be too far away from our home.” He cracked several eggs into a bowl and whipped them with a fork.
What is happening?
I cleared my throat. “A house?”
He walked the few steps to where I was standing at the end of the marble-top kitchen island and gave me a quick kiss on my forehead. “Of course, kroshka, we can’t stay here in the penthouse. You don’t want to raise our children in a place without a yard to play in, do you?”
Children?
I rubbed my temples. “Am I missing something here? We’ve been together for twelve hours and have fought for half that time, and somehow you already have us with a house and two point five kids.”
Mikhail stopped chopping the tomato and looked up at me. His blue eyes turned to hard cobalt. Still holding the knife, he stepped toward me. I instinctively backed up, staring at the bright silver blade. It was covered in small pieces of red that my brain knew was just tomato, but my heart leaped as if it were blood. His eyes narrowed at my movement.
Without saying a word, he reached over to turn off the stovetop. My chest tightened. That probably wasn’t a good sign. He then slowly put down the knife. Cupping his right fist in his left palm, he cracked his knuckles and studied me a moment, inhaling deeply as if to calm himself down. Finally, he said, “You do realize that until you marry, you’ll continue to be vulnerable to these types of attacks? That seizing you would essentially be a dangerous, opportunistic power grab against your brothers?”
Incredulous, I asked, “So I’m just supposed to marry the first guy who walks through the door because my brothers’ business demands it?”
He slammed his fist down on the island. The jarring gesture made my heart leap into my throat. “No, not the first man. Me. We’re getting married and that is all there is to it.”
“What do you mean we’re getting married? I haven’t even told my brothers about us yet.”
“I have.” His gaze bore into mine, daring me to object.
My mouth dropped open. “You what?”
I was having a hard time keeping up with the steamroll job he was doing to my life. First, he was taking over my business operations, then talking about marriage, a house, and kids. It was like he and my brothers had planned out the rest of my life, and were just expecting me to be a good girl and follow along. Regardless of how I may have felt about Mikhail — and I hadn’t really been given an opportunity to even figure that out — this was not okay. If I allowed this to happen, I could forget about any independence whatsoever. They would settle my life before I had had a chance to ever really live it, before I had a chance to make my own mistakes and my own decisions.
“Your brothers and I have already discussed it. This is for your own protection. It’s all settled.”
“Eto bylo dlya vashey zhe zashchity! Always for my own protection.”
Mikhail started for me, but I pivoted out of his reach, keeping the island between us. He took a few more steps, and I did the same. A low feral growl emitted from deep within his chest. I was playing with fire and I knew it, but dammit, he couldn’t just storm into my personal life and start ordering me around.
“You will obey me in this, kroshka.”
“You can’t just order someone to marry you.”
“The hell I can’t!” He lunged, but I was too quick. I circled around the island again, always keeping the large block of marble between us.
“Did it even occur to you or my brothers to ask me how I felt about this plan of yours?”
Judging by his closed off, hooded expression, the answer was no.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I won’t do it.”
“Da, vy budete,” he fired back.
“No, I won’t,” I insisted, “and you can’t make me.”
Mikhail’s eyebrow raised. His lips twisted into a mirthless smirk. “Watch me.”
“You know what, Mikhail—”
He lifted his arm and pointed a finger at me. “I’m warning you, babygirl, don’t you fucking dare say it.”
I paused but didn’t think better of it. “Poshel na khuy!”
Placing his palm flat on the island surface, Mikhail swung his legs high and leapt over it.
I tried to run, but he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me back till I was flush against his chest. I could feel the threat of his hard cock press against my ass. His hand wrapped around my throat, forcing my head back onto his shoulder as the tops of his f
ingers pressed under my jaw.
He took my earlobe between his teeth and bit before breathing into my ear, “Are you doing this on purpose, babygirl?” His hand reached down between my legs and cupped my pussy through the thin fabric of my skirt. “You think because I know this pussy is sore, I won’t rough fuck punish you till you can’t walk for a week?”
Oh. My. God.
There was something seriously wrong with me that such a freaking fucked up thing like that threat would actually make my nipples hard and my thighs clench. There was no denying I was deliberately provoking him. Poking the beast. I couldn’t seem to help myself. There was this dizzying adrenaline rush the moment his brow lowered and his mouth tightened. His body would tense right before he sprang into motion.
This must be what people call the thrill of the chase.
I was still pissed about him colluding with my brothers about my future, but there were better ways to handle the situation than screaming ‘fuck you’ and practically daring him to hate fuck me into oblivion.
Mikhail spun me around and bent me over the kitchen island. The cold marble made my nipples even harder. His hand around my throat tightened, not enough to cut off my air, but just enough to be a darkly erotic threat. His other hand moved up the back of my thigh, under the hem of my skirt. He flipped up the fabric, exposing my bare hip and ass.
He rubbed his palm in circles over one cheek. “I haven’t just watched over you these last few years. I’ve watched you, too. I know the feel of your eyes on me. I recognize the want and need in their depths because it has mirrored my own.”
He smacked my ass. My mouth opened on a shocked gasp as my body tensed. The movement of my jaw tightened his grip on my throat. I shamefully rose on my toes and rubbed my ass against his cock.
He smacked my ass again. He leaned down to rasp in my ear, “I know how badly you hunger for this. I know you crave my touch — crave each brutal embrace. You can deny it all you want, babygirl, but you like being dominated by me. You fight me just so I will break you.”