Kostya

by Roxie Rivera

  “It looks very good,” I agreed, trying to be as unbiased as possible. “What set off the client?”

  “She said it wasn’t the same color as the girl in her Instagram photo. I tried to explain that the girl in photo had a different starting hair color, and also, the girl in the photo had, like, seven filters layered together. Who the hell knows what the real color of those highlights were.”

  “Do you want to handle this?” I tossed her phone back at her. “Normally, I would, but you were on the floor when it happened.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “Nicely,” I urged, knowing how Savannah could get sometimes.

  “Yes, mother,” she replied sarcastically. “So—how did your little errand go?”

  “Strangely,” I admitted. “Vivian’s husband was oddly welcoming, and he agreed to help me find my father.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a good thing,” she said uneasily.

  “I think so.”

  “You’re a big girl. I trust you to know if you need to pump the brakes,” she said, rising from the sofa and shrugging. “You have any plans for tonight?”

  “I’ve got to run a few errands and then I’m headed home to do laundry and catch up on housework. You?”

  “I’ve got a meeting for the gala to discuss the budget.” She made a face. “And then, after that, a handful of Advil, a bottle of Moscato and whatever I can find on Netflix that I haven’t seen yet.” Smiling, she gestured to the door. “I’m heading out. The girls have all left, and the front of the shop is shut down.”

  “I’ll be gone in a few minutes,” I said, shutting down my computer.

  “Okay. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  After closing my office and doing a final check of the salon, I set the alarm and left the building. Once I was in my car, I opened the Waze app on my phone and looked at the address I had found earlier. I debated a few seconds before tapping the screen and leaving the parking lot.

  The app’s voice guided me through my car speakers, telling me when and where to turn. I slowed down as I reached my destination and parked across from the darkened building in one of the few parallel spots available. I thought about getting out and investigating the building, maybe try the front door, but my better instincts warned me to stay put.

  Sunrise Sunset was scrawled on the door’s window in yellow. The logo of a rising sun reflected as a setting sun sat underneath it. There was no phone number. No website. The place had no social media presence whatsoever.

  It was definitely a front, but for what? Something simple like laundering money or something worse? Did I even want to know?

  What would Kostya say if he found out I’d come here tonight? That I’d spied on his phone call?

  Startled by the sound of my phone, I damn near jumped through the windshield. Glancing down at the screen, I saw my mother’s face and answered quickly. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Holly, where are you? I came by the salon, but it’s already closed.”

  “Oh, I’m just out running some errands,” I lied, putting my car in drive and merging back onto the road. “Why did you come by the salon? Do you need a trim?”

  “No, no, no,” she answered. “I thought I’d stop by and keep you company while you were closing up.”

  “Sorry! I would have stayed later if I’d known you were coming by to see me.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m headed back to the house. If you need anything or if you want to come over, I’ll be up for a while.”

  “Not tonight,” I said, navigating through an intersection. “I have to catch up on laundry and some cleaning I’ve been putting off. My house is a mess.”

  “Well, if you change your mind…”

  “I know where to go.”

  “All right. Let me know when you get home.”

  “I will. Goodnight, Mom.”

  “I love you, Holly.”

  “I love you, too.”

  After I hung up, I couldn’t shake the thought that my mother wasn’t telling me the truth about her health. Why else would she be acting so oddly? Worried that she was sick, I decided that I would spend the night with her tomorrow and try to get the truth out of her.

  When I turned onto my street, I spotted Kostya’s car in my driveway. My stomach erupted with a swarm of butterflies at the sight of him leaning against his car, waiting for me. There was something in his stance that worried me. He seemed stiff, almost aggressive in the way he held his arms. He looked like a predator ready to pounce.

  As I pulled into the garage, he got back into his car and drove into the empty space on the right side. When I got out of my car, he was waiting for me as the garage door slid closed behind us. The expression on his face concerned me. He looked so tired and broken, his eyes sad and his face lined with stress.

  Touching his cheek, I asked, “Are you okay?”

  He leaned into my hand. “I am now.”

  “Kostya.” I caressed his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything.” He leaned down and nuzzled me. His mouth sought mine, and I rose up to meet him, pressing my lips to his. His hands fell to the roof of my car, and he boxed me in against the door, his hard, hot body feeling so damn good against mine.

  I clutched at him, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and dragging him even closer. His wild kisses left me breathless as I wondered what in the world had happened to leave him so shaken.

  “May I stay with you tonight?” he asked in between feverish kisses.

  “Yes. Please.”

  His hands slid down to cup my bottom. I shivered wickedly, my body pulsing with desire and need. “Can I use your shower?”

  “Only if you let me join you…”

  He followed me into the house, his hand in mine. The body heat radiating from him set my body on fire, igniting all my nerve-endings and making my heart race even faster. By the time we made it to the master bathroom, we had shed our shoes, and he’d tossed his jacket carelessly onto a chair in my room. I watched him take off his shoulder holster and stow his gun in the drawer next to mine. I was only a little surprised by the knives he had hidden away on his body.

  For a moment, he just stood there, staring at me. There was something so vulnerable in his eyes tonight. He seemed wounded. If I asked, he wouldn’t tell me what was bothering him. I knew him well enough to know that. So, I held out my hand and beckoned him to join me.

  His fingers were strong around mine. With a smile, I tugged him into the bathroom. Dropping his hand, I started the shower, adjusting the temp the way I liked it, warm but not too hot. When I turned around, he had already taken off his shirt. I stepped forward and gripped his belt buckle, slowly unfastening it as I held his gaze. He leaned down and pressed his mouth against mine. His kiss was gentle, searching, and I melted into him.

  In between fevered kisses, we undressed each other, laughing and smiling when he tumbled a bit from the jeans wrapped around his ankles. Eventually, we made it into the shower. The hot water and steam felt so good on my skin, but Kostya’s arms wrapping around me and dragging me back against him felt even better. I shivered as he kissed a slow, meandering line down my neck.

  “I missed you today,” he said softly, his breath tickling my ear. “I wanted to see you so many times.”

  “You should have come to the salon or called me. I would have met you anywhere you wanted.”

  He kissed my temple before letting go of me. “I was in Galveston most of the day. That’s a long way for you to drive just to see me.”

  “I would have done it.”

  “I know you would have.” He lathered a bar of soap between his hands. “That’s why I didn’t call.”

  I frowned at him. “That’s silly.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  The way he said it made my stomach clench. Whatever he’d been up to since he left the salon last night had obviously been very dangerous. From his haggard expression, it had its toll on him. Touching his chest, I held his gaze. “I know you
can’t tell me what you were doing, but I need you to know that I would never break your confidence. I hope that someday we can get to a place where you can tell me the truth, where you can unburden yourself, and know that I’ll never tell a living soul.”

  His expression softened. Leaning down, he kissed me tenderly. “Holly, I do trust you. If I thought telling you everything would make it easier for us, I would in a heartbeat.”

  “But?”

  “But, right now, the only thing keeping us both safe is my silence.”

  “I understand,” I whispered against his lips and kissed him again.

  That seemed to be the end of his willingness to talk. His soapy hands started to roam my body, outlining the curves of my breasts and hips. I didn’t want to talk anymore either. Grasping at his shoulders, I closed my eyes and relished the feel of his hands gliding over my skin. Unlike last night, we were taking it slow now. Exploring. Feeling.

  Taking the soap from him, I started to lather up his skin, moving my hands over his tattooed flesh. His lean body was so hard beneath my fingertips, every muscle, every sinew perfectly outlined. I studied the art decorating his skin, wondering if I would ever find out what each one of these pieces meant.

  Sliding my hand down the flat plane of his stomach, I didn’t waste time playing coy. I grasped his hard cock, stroking it from root to tip, and eliciting an animalistic groan from him. He thrust into my hand, and I smiled triumphantly, lifting up to nip at his bottom lip. He groaned again and inhaled a shaky breath as my other hand moved down his thigh and cupped his sac.

  “Holly…”

  “Relax,” I urged, wanting to give him some relief from all the tension he carried. My hand stroked up and down his shaft, the slick soap easing the way. I stabbed my tongue against his, urging him to let go, and he did. He pressed my back against the tile and thrust into my hand while he devoured my mouth, leaving me breathless and panting. He gripped my ass in one palm and slapped the other against the tile behind me, bracing himself. Stroking faster and tighter, I urged him on with a whispered, “Come for me.”

  He growled my name before capturing my mouth in a kiss that left me dizzy. He jerked against my hand as I eased him down with gentle caresses. Wrapping his arms around me, he dragged me back under the water. His mouth found mine again as the water ran down our bodies, rinsing away the soap clinging to us.

  We didn’t bother with towels as we stepped out of the shower. In the back of my mind, I cringed at the thought of getting my duvet wet, but in the moment, I didn’t really much care. All I wanted was Kostya. On top of me. In my bed.

  His mouth was on mine as he guided me backwards across the room. When the backs of my thighs hit the edge of the bed, he gave me a little shove, and I ended up flat on my back. Giggling and reaching for him, I wiggled up higher on the bed. He came down on top of me, his lips crashing against mine before his tongue darted between them.

  “Konstantin,” I breathed out his name and arched into his touch. His hands were so strong and sure as they moved over my body, sliding along my curves and caressing me gently. He danced a line of soft, ticklish kisses along my throat and across my breasts. He lingered there, his lips on my nipples until they ached. I gripped his shoulders and dragged my fingers through his hair, scratching my nails over his scalp and making him groan.

  “Open your legs,” he ordered roughly. A shiver of anticipation coursed through my body as I followed his instruction, widening my thighs and planting my heels on the edge of the bed. He kissed a teasing line down the inside of each thigh before nuzzling his mouth against my heated sex. His fingers parted me, baring me to his hungry gaze.

  At the first swipe of his tongue, I dropped my head back to the bed and closed my eyes. He was gentle at first, his tongue exploring and dipping into me. I tried to angle my hips and direct his attention to my clit, but he was having none of that. His strong hands held my legs open and my hips down, forcing to me be patient.

  All the tension and worry I had been carrying for the last few days melted out of me. His mouth worked tenderly over the most sensitive part of me, licking and lapping until I was breathing shakily. When he settled his tongue over my clit, I cried out with relief. He chuckled dark and low against me, the rumbling sound adding a delicious twist to his flicking motions.

  “I’m going to come,” I whispered breathlessly, feeling that coil of pleasure building inside me. He groaned against my pussy, urging me to let go and feel. My climax started slowly, tendrils of ecstasy unfurling and spreading through my body. I rocked against his mouth, my hands in his hair as I cried out his name again and again.

  When my orgasm started to fade, he turned his attention away from my clit. First one finger and then two found their way inside me. He thrust carefully, pushing and rubbing until he found that little spot that made my entire body jolt. I surged off the bed, my hips arching upward as my head fell back. “Kostya!”

  He laughed at my predicament before dropping his mouth to my clit again. He worked his magic in a way no other man had with me. I’d had some damn good orgasms in my life—but holy fuck. The way Kostya thrust his fingers and lapped at me with his strong tongue left me screaming.

  My climax hit me with a wild burst of pleasure that rocketed through me. My whole body tensed and jerked in time with his incessant licks. I clawed at the bed, grabbing handfuls of the covers and hanging on for dear life as he changed the angle of his fingers and the pressure of his mouth. The third orgasm was so quick and hard I saw stars and couldn’t breathe, my mouth hanging open as I pressed into him, desperate to wring every last bit of stimulation I could from him.

  “God! No more!” I tried to pull away from him, but he had grasped my hips in both hands now, his tongue languidly moving between my folds, teasing over my clit. “Please.”

  With a final soft kiss between my legs, he stopped. He caressed my lower belly and thighs while I tried to catch my breath. My arms and legs tingled, and I could feel the slick wet mess he had made of me on my inner thighs. I reached down to touch him, my fingers finding his damp hair. With a little tug, I urged him up on top of me.

  “We don’t have to—”

  “Shut up and fuck me,” I interrupted roughly, my voice hoarse from all that yelling. Locking my legs around his waist, I all but dared him to try to escape me. He grinned down at me before grabbing my ass in one hand and hitching my body up a little higher. He was rock-hard again, his cock nudging between my legs and making me pant with excitement.

  “Oh,” I drew out the word on a low moan as he slid deep on a smooth thrust. With a hand on my hip and another planted next to my head, Kostya dipped down to kiss me. The muscles in his neck were taut as he rocked into me, his pace slow and unhurried. Every stroke was like heaven, our bodies working perfectly together.

  Unlike our rushed sex at the salon, this was different. Tender. Gentle. And oh so good. I clutched at his shoulders, burying my face in his neck. He smelled of my soap, floral and light, but also a hint of me still lingered on him. I kissed his throat and jaw before finally resting my lips against his ear. My hard breaths made him shiver, and he started driving into me harder and faster. I sensed he was trying to hold back long enough for me to come again, but my body was wrung out from the wicked things he’d done with his mouth.

  I slid a hand down his back and over his hip before grabbing his ass. I pulled him hard into me, taking him deeper with his thrust and angling my hips to meet him. He looked down at me, his eyes questioning, and I nodded, silently communicating that I wanted him to let go. He dropped his forehead to mine, his hips snapping rapidly as he chased his climax.

  “Holly,” he groaned my name, his accent dragging out the first syllable in a way I had come to love. I embraced him tightly, not wanting to let him go. Here, in my bedroom, we were safe from all the mafia shit he was mired in for life. We were secure here, cocooned from everything and everyone who wanted to tear us apart.

  When he slid off of me and fell onto his side, he draped
his arm across my waist and dragged me against him. His arms encircled me, and I could tell he had the same thoughts I did. He didn’t want to leave this bedroom. He didn’t want to face the truth of our situation. He didn’t want to acknowledge what neither of us were brave enough to say.

  This won’t last.

  I blinked hard, refusing to cry or give into that feeling of sadness that had engulfed me at the ugly thought. More than anything, I wanted to make this work. He wanted the same thing. I could feel it in the way he touched me and the way he looked at me. We wanted the same thing—a life together.

  But it wasn’t up to us. His secrets and his ties to the mob threatened this new, blossoming relationship. Were we strong enough to break those ties?

  The thought rattled around in my head as I drifted off to sleep in his arms. When I woke a few hours later, my mouth dry and stomach growling, I gently shifted away from him. He was dead to the world. The dark circles under his eyes and the stress lines in his forehead saddened me. Wanting him to rest, I carefully moved away from him and off the bed.

  Not bothering with clothes, I used the bathroom, wiped up the water droplets pooled on the tile and turned off the light. It was a bit muggy in the bedroom so I switched on the ceiling fan and killed the overhead lights we had left on after making love. Wanting it to be cozier for him so he would rest, I turned down the thermostat. As I made my way down the hall, I picked up the clothing that we had dropped earlier.

  There was enough moonlight coming in from my kitchen windows that I didn’t bother with the lights. Standing naked in front of the open refrigerator, I stared at the shelves for something to eat. Nothing looked particularly tasty so I closed the door and padded over to the cabinet by the sink for a glass. The sound of the clinking ice cubes smacking against the glass was so loud in the quiet house. I hoped it wouldn’t wake Kostya since he seemed to sleep so light.

  The cold water felt so good as I thirstily gulped it down. As I lowered the glass, I felt a strange shiver along my neck and back. It was odd feeling, almost as if someone were watching me. Turning around toward the arched doorway of the kitchen, I expected to see Kostya looming there in that quiet, serious way of his.