by Maisey Yates
“Victoria.” His voice was rough, reflecting the look on his face.
“Impatient?” She was the one who felt impatient, hollow, aching.
He growled, rolling his hips beneath her, his hardness sliding against the slickness between her thighs. She was reasonably certain that if he wanted to he could break the restraints, or at the very least he could move his arms so that they were around her, so that the power balance was shifted. But he did not. He steadfastly obeyed the order she had given him. Honored the unspoken agreement that had passed between them.
“Are you impatient, Dmitri?” She repeated the question. And he remained silent. “Answer me, or I will leave.”
He had to say it, he had to tell her that he wanted this as badly as she did. He had to let her know that he was a slave to it as much as she was. That he wasn’t just captive in body, but in spirit. That this man, this fighter, was surrendering himself to her.
He had told her, over and over, that the power was his. It was something he prized, and he had made that clear. Yet here he was, handing her the power. Handing her the control.
And at every step, she would make him choose to give it. A conscious surrender.
“I am impatient,” he said, clenching his teeth.
“What do you want?”
“I want to be inside you. More than I want my next breath.”
She shifted their position, flexing her hips, bringing the blunt, thick head of him to the entrance of her body. She teased them both, lowering herself slowly onto his hardened length, relishing the slow satisfaction of being filled by him, inch by excruciating inch. And she watched his face, watched the tendons in his neck standing out, his jaw tight, a muscle twitching there from the restraint it took for him to remain as he was.
“Victoria, I can—” What followed was a long string of Russian, the words a mystery to her, but the tone clear.
So she gave him what he wanted, what they both wanted. She moved over him, slowly at first, establishing a rhythm that built the tension between them. She braced her hands on either side of him, keeping her eyes on the black fabric over his wrists, watching as he tightened his hands into fists.
She shifted, straightening, riding him harder, planting her hand at the center of his chest, feeling his heart raging against her palm. His skin was slick with sweat, his skin was hot. She moved against him, rocking her clitoris against him, bringing herself closer to the peak. And she could feel him drawing closer, too. She felt responsible for it in this position, more responsible for his needs than ever before.
She leaned down, pressing her body flush against his, pressing her breasts against his chest, kissing him deeply, as she flexed her hips one last time, pushing them both over the edge. She could feel him pulsing inside of her, her internal muscles squeezing him tight as they both rode out the storm. When it was over she lay there, her head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Listening as it slowed, as his breathing became even again.
And for a moment, she simply stayed there and held tightly to him, terrified by the sudden realization that she couldn’t keep him here. Not if she bound his hands, not if she clung to him.
Tonight he had surrendered to her, tonight he had chosen her. But tomorrow would be different.
At the end of all this, he would walk away. And there were no restraints in her possession that would keep him with her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DMITRI FOUGHT HARD to catch his breath, but he found he could not. Feelings were prowling through his chest like beasts, tearing everything they could wrap their jaws around. And still, this silk was tied around his wrists. And he wasn’t hurrying to break the bonds. There was something intoxicating about it. About allowing her to hold him captive. About being possessed by her.
It touched something deep inside of him, the boy that he had been then, the boy who had been thrown out of his home in Moscow after sacrificing his entire soul to free his mother from a monster. After having his sacrifice rejected.
It wasn’t a sacrifice, there was no choice.
But Victoria had given him a choice. And Victoria had made her choices.
Victoria had done something entirely different. Victoria had made it clear that she wanted him here, that she wanted him with her. The ties around his wrists spoke louder than any words, and her arms around his waist, her head resting on his chest, spoke louder still.
She shifted, kissing his chest, the light pressure hitting him with the force of an opponent’s blow. This had felt like a fight, and in the end he wanted to surrender.
To her, to being hers.
He had never thought about it before in quite those terms, but the fact remained that most people in life belonged to someone else. Either to their parents, to their spouse, or to a friend. Dmitri could not remember the last time he had ever belonged to anyone. Certainly his mentor had been a driving force in his life, but their relationship had not extended outside the ring. His father had gone crazy, and in the end Dmitri had been the one to remove him from this world. And his mother had detached from him so easily it was clear he had never truly belonged to her.
But Victoria... She was different. This was different.
And it was terrifying. It made him feel as if he was at a crossroads yet again, wrenched open and exposed.
It was the hidden cost of giving her his control. It gave her a way in. Past his defenses. And he had sworn to himself he would never do that again.
He tugged against his restraints, against her, suddenly unable to breathe. “Untie me,” he said, his tone hard.
Victoria scrambled to free him, shaking fingers fumbling as she removed the tie from around his wrists. He probably could’ve done it himself. But he needed her to do it. It had to be her choice.
He sat up and rubbed his wrists, even though they didn’t hurt. The bonds had been gentle, but the impression of them lingered. And he wanted them gone.
“This game is done,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and moving into a standing position.
He didn’t know what he had expected her to do, but he had not expected her expression to morph into one of pure steel. Her lips flattened into a straight line, her eyes glittering with determination. “Why? Because it scares you? Because you’re afraid of me?”
“I’m not afraid of you, princess. If I were afraid of you I wouldn’t have let you tie my hands.” But he was afraid. Because he was on the verge of something he’d avoided for years. A turning point he either had to accept, or run from.
“Oh, that? Am I supposed to be impressed by the fact that you allowed me to tie you up when we both know you could’ve fought me off if you truly wanted to?”
Rage poured through him, and he couldn’t fathom quite why what she’d said made him so angry. “Do not minimize it. You have no idea what that cost me. I surrendered my control to you. And the last time I allowed someone else to force my hand I pulled the trigger of a gun and ended a man’s life, so do not minimize what I have given,” he repeated.
“Dmitri...”
“Do you know where I got the leather cuff?” he asked.
“What...the one you gave me? You said it was nothing.”
“I am a liar, Victoria. You should not be surprised to learn that.”
“Where, then?” she asked, her voice muted.
“Off my father’s dead body,” he said, his words falling flat in the stillness of the room. Victoria stared at him, her eyes wide. “Yes, that’s right. After I shot him, after I killed him, I took the cuff from his wrist and put it on my own. As a reminder that I’d had no choice. As a reminder of what I’d become.”
He took a deep breath and continued. “In that moment I became a product of violence. My entire life from the moment after that has been driven by violence. But when your choices are
taken from you all you can do is embrace them. That day created me. It created the man that I am now. And it is not who I wanted to be.”
“Then be someone different,” she said. As if it were so simple.
“Because it is easy? To leave the past behind? You were completely bound up in a thwarted love affair from more than a decade ago. And you dare suggest to me that I should not be affected by killing a man?”
“We have choices, Dmitri. We always have a choice.”
“I had no choice. It was either his life or mine. His life for my mother’s. There was no other option.”
“Maybe not. But I don’t think that’s what really bothers you. I don’t think that’s what scares you now. It’s what happened after.”
Her words hit too close to the bone. Too close to the wound that had never really healed.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? As you pointed out I’m very adept at clinging to pain from my past.”
“Poor Victoria. Did a man reject you and damage your self-esteem? You made daddy upset? My daddy bled out on the floor of my home, because of me. I think I have the monopoly on issues.”
“You did have a choice to make then. You made the hard one.”
“It is not hard to decide to save yourself.”
“You didn’t save yourself. All you did was allow yourself more years to keep breathing. I think you damned yourself all those years ago. Not with your actions, but with your own condemnation.”
He chuckled, the sound flat and hollow in the hotel suite. “Oh, it was not my condemnation, princess. I received it from plenty of other places. My own mother, for one.”
“But she isn’t here. She has no power over you. Stop holding yourself prisoner,” she said. “I tied you up tonight, but your hands have been tied by that leather cuff from the moment you took it off your father’s body.”
Rage poured through him, at the idea that he had somehow been the one to put himself in this position. “So, you blame me, too?”
“Not for your father’s death. I blame you for everything that happened since. You are not a prisoner of that day. It does not define you. You are more than that. Colvin knew it—that’s why he took you out of that bar in Moscow and made you the man you are today. I know it. It’s why I... It’s why I love you.”
“Don’t say that, Victoria.”
“Why not?” she asked. “It’s the truth. And one of us should tell the truth.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice rough. “Why would you love me?”
He shouldn’t care. He should not push her for an answer, because he did not deserve the sentiment. Because he couldn’t accept it. Because he couldn’t return it. And yet, he felt desperate to know. Because he was certain that she was the only person ever to love him since the moment he had taken a life. And he needed to know why. It seemed more important than his next breath.
“I thought I just wanted to sleep with you, because I was attracted to you. Because you proved to me that something inside of myself that I had thought wasn’t even there, not only existed, but burned bright and hot. That night when you touched me on the balcony in New Orleans...you changed something in me. But then you made me come after you. You made me choose. And after that I knew I wanted more. And every night since then I’ve known it, deeper and more profoundly. Because it’s like this fog that’s been weighing me down has been lifted. I see myself, clearly, for the first time in years. I know what I want, and I trust what I want. I want you, Dmitri. Not just for the next couple of weeks, not just for sex. I want you. You are a fighter. A champion. You are the best man I have ever known, the only one who has ever wanted me, and not simply what I could offer. That’s why I love you.”
Her words were everything he had ever hoped to hear, and for one blinding second he thought about taking them. About holding them close to his chest, about holding her close to his chest. About allowing her to keep him.
On the heels of that thought, on the heels of that dream, he realized he never could.
Because she loved him but it wouldn’t last. Because she would realize what manner of man he was, dammit all to hell, his own mother had realized that eventually. And all of the things that had happened since he pulled the trigger and ended his father’s life had only taken him further away from humanity. Further away from being the kind of man that Victoria should love, the kind of man who could love her in return.
What he wanted, what he could understand was possession. To possess her, and beg her to possess him. But it wasn’t the same thing as love.
He had sacrificed that part of himself long ago. And he would never, ever give of himself in that way again. Even if he had the ability. Because he knew how badly it cut when the rejection came. And for a man like him, the rejection would come. Undoubtedly.
But for a moment, it had been a wonderful fantasy to belong to her. To be connected to another person, rather than simply being adrift in a sea alone.
But it had only been a fantasy. That was all. And it was all it would ever be.
And he realized then, it wasn’t being helpless he feared. It was opening himself up again, giving everything, only to have it rejected.
He could not allow it.
He could not give up that much of his control, that much of his protection. That moment of surrender in bed was all he could give. It was all he could ever give.
“No, Victoria. It is not going to happen. It can’t happen.”
“Why not?” she asked, standing up from the bed, naked still, her expression full of pain. Pain he had put there. Would he ever stop harming those he cared about? “It’s stupid. I don’t understand why this can’t happen.”
“Because I don’t love you.”
He spit the words out as if they were something distasteful, and they were. As they left his lips, it felt as though he was being stabbed in the chest. And in his head, the word liar echoed, loud, never-ending.
Her lower lip wobbled and she caught it in her teeth. “Oh. Well...well.”
He knew he had to end this. Quickly. Decisively.
One shot, and as long as he aimed well, it would be over quickly.
This he knew from experience.
“Remember what I said to you? About using your innocence? I think we can safely say that’s effectively gone. I find myself getting bored. I don’t see the need to continue on.”
“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you really feel that way. Not about my innocence, not when you are castigating yourself over the fact that I was a virgin.”
“And you are clearly still as gullible as ever. Is it really possible that you let two men trick you this completely?” The words scraped his throat raw when he spoke them, all the pain in her eyes echoing through him. And he hated himself. But there was no other way. “Look at yourself, Victoria. You’re as silly now as you were when you were sixteen.”
“No!” Her voice broke on the word, and it cracked something inside of him. “I am not gullible. I am not the same. You gave me... You gave me back a part of myself. Do not take it from me. You’re not allowed to take it from me. How dare you? How dare you make me feel so powerful? How dare you make me feel so strong? How do you do all of that and then try to take it?”
“You gave it to yourself, sweetheart. I didn’t have anything to do with it. Because I didn’t give you anything. All I did was take. Your beautiful body was enough for me. And the fact that you are up for a little bit of kink? That only makes it better. But you’re not the first woman I’ve played these kinds of games with, and you won’t be the last.” It was a lie. No woman had ever touched him as she had; no woman had ever bound his wrists.
No woman had ever made him feel as if he wanted to belong to her. To be hers, and nothing else.
No woman had ever got beneath his solidly
built defenses, and that was why he had to send her away now.
She swallowed hard, visibly, then lifted her shaking finger and pointed toward the door. “Get out.”
“This is my hotel room, princess.” He couldn’t bring himself to use her name anymore. He needed distance. “You’re in no position to throw me out.”
“You infuriating, insufferable man.” She set about collecting her clothes, her entire frame shaking. “I am not a fool. Not now, not ever. I will not make myself responsible for your sins. Neither will I ever allow you to think of me as some sort of sacrificial lamb who somehow eased your trauma by giving you my so-called innocence. I gave you nothing less than what I wanted to give you. It was my choice. You took nothing from me. And I don’t need to feel sorry about it. You should be sorry. You should be sorry. Nathan should be sorry. My father should be sorry. But I will not be sorry. I will not be sorry for loving any of you. For caring. For believing the best in people even when it came back to bite me. And I am the one breaking off this engagement.”
“You can’t do that.” His words came out raw. “According to the agreement if you do that then you do not get the company.”
“I don’t want it. Not anymore. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want anything for my father. I’m done paying for my mistakes. I’m done trying to be something I’m not in order to find atonement. It shouldn’t be so hard to make someone love you.” The sob broke the last words she spoke. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”
She slipped the dress back on over her curves, and zipped it up tight. Covering herself. Closing herself off.
And then without another word, Victoria Calder turned away from him, her shoulders stiff, her manner as haughty as it had been the first day she’d walked into his gym. Then she walked out of the bedroom, and he heard her walk out of the suite entirely, the door closing hard behind her.
And once again he was left alone. He wasn’t out on the streets; he was still in his luxury hotel room. But somehow this was worse than when he found himself thrown out of his childhood home. Somehow, he felt more alone than he had upon realizing his father was gone. Upon realizing his mother wanted nothing more to do with him.