by Cole, Jagger
“Stop, jeez,” I blush.
“So you—you, Belle Bardot—literally jumped on the back of a hot stranger’s motorcycle—”
“River, I never said he was hot.”
There’s a pause.
“Well, is he?”
I squeeze my eyes shut as my face burns hotly. “Yes.”
She laughs. “Well, good for you!”
“It really isn’t like that.”
“Alright, alright, so you keep saying.” River pauses. “Hey, jokes aside. Do you feel safe with him?”
“Yes.”
I blink at my own response, a little taken aback at how easily and quickly I said yes. But it’s true. I think of the two guys with the cameras, and the savage, protective look on Trouble—Nikolai’s—face.
“Good.”
She goes quiet again, and I frown. “Why do I feel like you’re not saying something?”
River groans. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“River…”
“Look, I wasn’t going to say anything, because it’s probably just me reading things weirdly. And it was probably just one of those bodyguard types agencies always have hanging around.”
“Huh?”
She sighs. “Someone came looking for you, at my shoot.”
I frown. “One of Jim’s people?”
“No. This big guy with a bunch of tattoos and a Russian accent.”
The Volkov Bratva. The Russian fucking mafia.
Nikolai’s words from the parking lot sear through my mind. I tremble and hug my knees up to my chest.
“Oh?” I blurt.
“Yeah. Look, it was fine. I mean there were a million security guys on set, I wasn’t scared. It was just… I don’t know; off. It felt weird that he was asking about you, and then I heard you were missing, and now you’ve run off with hottie on a motorcycle…”
I roll my eyes. But I’m still focusing on the big Russian guy looking for me. Focusing, and worrying.
“Hey, more jokes aside…”
“Yeah?”
River sighs. “Do you need me to come get you? Seriously. I’ll send a car or come get you myself, right now.”
I shake my head. Not because I don’t want my best friend here. But because I’m not really sure what I might be involved in. Or what Nikolai might be involved in. And I don’t want her mixed into that.
“Thanks, but I’m fine. I think I’m coming back to Chicago tomorrow. I just needed to get out and clear my head.” I shrug. “Or maybe I’ll just fly back to LA.”
“Spa day?”
I smile. “Sounds perfect.”
“Well, have fun ‘clearing your head’ tonight,” she giggles.
I blush again. “River—”
“I mean I think you really could do with a deep, hard, pillow-biting—”
“You done?”
She laughs. “For now. Call me if you change your mind. Or if you feel unsafe at all, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You promise?”
I grin. “I promise.”
“Oh, by the way. Do you know there’s a company in LA now that’ll send fresh dog shit to someone’s front door?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Um, okay?”
“I happen to have Penelope Croix’s new address…”
I giggle. “Goodnight, River.”
When I hang up, I drop back on the bed. But then I sit up and scan the room. It’s not exactly the VIP luxury suites I’ve been used to for the last decade. But I like it anyway. It’s homey. It’s simple, and real. It’s the kind of room Aunt Celine and I used to stay in sometimes when she’d take me overnight to an audition. And I like that.
I walk over to the closet and open it. But I startle and step back when all I see behind the door is another door. I realize I’m looking at the connector between my room and… his.
I swallow, backing away and gently closing it again. I lock it. Then I unlock it and blush. I roll my eyes and lock it again.
The actual closet is bare except for a clean if not overly-starched and bleached robe. I pull it off the hanger and turn to the bathroom. It’s not big, and there’s no hot tub, or steam room, or sauna like my room back at The Drake had. But there’s a shower, and I’m willing to bet the water get’s hot. Right now, that’s all I want.
And hot it is. Under the spray, I groan as the steam quickly fills the small bathroom. I draw the curtain closed, and I just stand there, letting the water stream over me.
It takes about one minute before I’m think of Nikolai—specifically, the kiss. I bite my lip as it replays in my head. That wasn’t just a kiss. That was something wild. It was a kiss unlike I’ve ever had before. I felt that in my fucking toes.
I blush: my toes, and other places.
I close my eyes. My heart races, and I imagine what might have happened if his phone didn’t ring—if his hand hadn’t stopped moving to where it was clearly going. I suck on my lip. My own hand slips down my stomach, over my bellybutton like his hand did. I push lower, and I gasp quietly when my fingers find me wet and slick—and not from the shower.
I move out from under the water and lean back against the tiled wall. My eyes are closed, and my fingers stroke my clit. I moan quietly and imagine it’s him. I imagine we’re still on the side of the road, against his bike. I imagine him yanking my shorts down and covering my pussy entirely with his hand. Or his mouth.
I moan and sink a finger between my lips. I grind my clit against the palm of my hand as I play out the fantasy—his mouth on me. His hands all over me. Bending me over that bike and pushing his cock…
I gasp, moaning louder as I feel my body tense and tremble. The idea of giving myself to the rough, dangerous stranger in the motel room next to me is so hot that I’m close already. I rub faster, feeling my legs quiver. My core tightens, and my toes curl against the bottom of the shower.
My body clenches, the pleasure begins to explode. And suddenly, I’m coming.
And then, I’m also falling. Literally.
I scream as my feet slip on the floor of the shower. I lurch for the shower curtain, but when I grab it, the whole freaking curtain rod rips off the wall. I go tumbling onto the floor in a wet, shrieking heap—half covered with the ruined shower curtain.
There’s a thundering crash outside the bathroom. Before I can even react, suddenly the bathroom door crashes in. I scream as Nikolai barrels in, looking tense and furious like he did in that gas station parking lot. Only this time, he’s holding a gun.
The bathroom is stone silent. My pulse thuds as I stare at the gun. Then up at Nikolai. Heat simmers in my core. He’s shirtless, with every single grooved, rippled muscle on his hulking frame bulging and clenched. Every mouth-watering ab. That thick, chiseled chest. The sculpted shoulders and biceps. Not to mention the tattoos covering him.
“Belle,” he growls. I blink, dragging my eyes off of his abs up to his concerned face.
“I’m—I…”
He moves towards me. His eyes slide over me, and I blush. I’m naked. But I don’t move to cover myself. He puts the gun on the sink and kneels down. Before I can say a thing, his big, strong hands gently pull the shower curtain and rod off of me.
His eyes slide shamelessly over me. I whimper when his hands slip under me. He stands, effortlessly lifting me in his arms.
The world seems to go still. I stare into his eyes, feeling his hands on my bare skin. My pulse thuds in my ears like a drum. My mouth feels dry. My head spins.
“I…”
Suddenly, his mouth crushes to mine. I moan eagerly, willingly open my lips for him when he pushes me back against the wall. I whimper, and my hand slides around his neck to the back of his head. His fingers dig into my skin, and then he groans as his tongue finds mine.
My body surges. My need for him is consuming, and desire ignites deep in my core.
Nikolai growls thickly. His muscles coil against me as he turns and carries me out of the bathroom. His lips don’t leave mine, and I cling to h
im, moaning as he lays me back across the bed.
He moves onto it over me, pushing between my trembling thighs. His mouth devours mine hungrily, passionately. I wrap my legs around his waist, aching for him; wanting him. Wanting everything.
My nipples drag over his chest. My whimpers of pleasure mix with his deep groans as our mouths hungrily sear together.
And then suddenly, he pulls away. His face darkens, and his lips curl into a snarl. He lurches away from me and off the bed, gritting his teeth.
I sit bolt upright, suddenly shamefully aware that I’m naked. I yank the bed covers over me. I blush deeply, feeling my very soul cringe at my sudden situation.
“What was that…” I mumble, looking down.
“No,” Nikolai growls, shaking his head when I look up at him. His face looks lined and shadowed.
“No what?”
“No, I don’t kiss girls with fucking boyfriends.”
I frown. “I don’t have a boy—”
“Sorta hard to lie your way out of something that’s on the cover of every gossip rag in the world, princess.”
My mouth thins angrily. “Excuse me?”
He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, my bad. I guess it’s ‘acting,’ not lying, when you’re being paid for it. Maybe you’re just confused.”
I glare at him. I slink off the bed, pulling the comforter with me. I storm back to the bathroom, slip behind the door, and pull the robe on. Then I storm back out.
“Get the fuck out of here.”
His gorgeous eyes burn into mine. “Fine.”
He turns, but my anger bubbles over.
“Did it ever occur to you that those magazines are full of shit?!”
He whirls back to me. “It has, actually,” he snaps. “Same as it’s occurred to me once or twice that professional actresses are pretty good liars.”
My eyes narrow. “I’m pretty sure I just told you to get the fuck out of my room.”
“Oh, at once your highness. Is there anything else I can—”
I hiss angrily as I shove him back through the connecting doors between our rooms. I slam my side shut as I whirl away from him. “Asshole,” I mutter, fuming.
“Yeah, right back at you, sweet cheeks.”
I gasp. I whirl back to the door and frown. It hasn’t shut because the whole knob and latch on my side is ripped off the doorframe.
“Did you break my fucking door?”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you scream like you’re being murdered and your door is locked.”
“Well excuse me for locking it! It’s just that there’s this arrogant, gun-toting stranger in the room next to me!”
He eyes me. I glare right back.
“Lock your side.”
“Can’t.”
“Why the hell not?!”
He shrugs. “Smashed through my side too.”
I roll my eyes. “Neanderthal.”
“Locksmiths love me.”
I laugh. But I quickly snap my lips shut and glare at him again.
“Well, stay in your room.”
“Yes, dear.”
I groan and turn away from him. I stomp over to my bed and sit back against the headboard. I turn my TV on and start mindlessly flipping channels. I’m trying to pretend we didn’t just kiss again. I’m trying to not think about the fact that he just saw me naked and held me in his arms against the bathroom wall.
I’m trying not to think about how fucking hot that was.
A few minutes later though, I’ve gone through all five channels on the TV without finding anything. I turn the volume down on the infomercial on my screen and tune my ears towards the half-open door to his room. It’s silent.
“So who do you kiss?”
My face burns hotly the second I blurt it out. It’s kind of one of those things you want to grab and shove back down your throat. But, too late. It’s out there. I said it.
My pulse quickens. This is a dangerous game I’ve just started.
“Excuse me?”
I gasp and turn my head. Nikolai is standing in the doorway, eying me. I swallow the lump in my throat and suck my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Hmm?”
“You heard me,” he growls.
I swallow again and shrug. “You just seem like the kind of guy that doesn’t actually care if the girls he kisses has a boyfriend or not is all.”
His eyes narrow. “Careful,” he growls.
My core tightens.
“And you don’t know anything about me.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, I might be young—”
“Are you actually eighteen?”
I smile thinly. “Maybe? I mean, who knows? I’m such a professional liar and all.”
“Belle…”
I sigh. “Yes, I’m eighteen. As if the tabloids could ever get over that. Anyway, I was saying, I might be young, but I’ve lived in Hollywood for years.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve been hit on by guys exactly like you for almost half my entire life.”
He frowns. “I sincerely doubt they were like me.”
“Arrogant? Cocky? Trying to fuck the starlets of the hour?”
He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “Like I said, princess, you don’t know shit about me.”
“So you weren’t about to do more than kiss me back there?”
What am I doing? What game am I playing? Why am I screwing around with fire right now?
Nikolai’s eyes harden. But then he shrugs casually. “Eh, it was an alright kiss.”
My lips purse. “Really,” I say tersely.
“I’ve had better.”
I roll my eyes. “Please. You’d jump at the chance to screw me.”
Nikolai laughs, deeply. “Princess, I can almost bet money that after that kiss, one of us has soaked little panties.”
My jaw drops. My face burns, and my body trembles as he steps into the room, growling lowly.
“And I’m not wearing any panties, sweetheart.”
I tremble, sucking in a breath of air as my face throbs with heat. My face and other places.
“Neither am I,” I throw back at him. “So, checkmate.”
Nikolai chuckles and shakes his head. “I don’t know if those little theatrics you pulled back there work on Hollywood guys, but they don’t on me.”
I glare at him. “What theatrics?”
“Please. The ‘oops I slipped in the shower’ routine?”
My nose wrinkles. “I slipped, asshole!”
“Doing what?”
My tongue ties. My face pulses with deep, red heat. Nikolai smirks, almost triumphantly.
“Aww, were you thinking about me, princess?”
“You’re delusional,” I mumble. “And disgusting.”
“So disgusting that your fingers just had to make sure you were extra clean in certain places?”
My entire body throbs with heat. My core clenches, and my legs squeeze together, hopelessly trying to stave off the flood of sticky wet heat that pools between them.
“You can try to be as gross and crude as you want,” I smile thinly. “Twist this around all you want. But we both know you’d be in here in a second if I snapped my fingers.”
He chuckles. “You’ve got that one flipped, princess.”
“You wish.”
“Well,” he smiles and shrugs as he backs towards the broken doors between our rooms. “You know where to find me if you need any help with that squirming you’re doing.”
I blush fiercely and glare at him.
“And I guess you know where to come beg me for another shot when you realize that was the most least memorable kiss of your life.”
Nikolai just smirks at me. “Guess we’ll see who breaks first.”
“Guess so,” I snap.
He shrugs. I pretend to ignore the way his eyes slip up and down my bare legs. I tremble a little as he steps back into his room, leaving both broken doors wide open.
“Hey, you don’
t mind if I’m naked, do you?”
I gasp, whipping my gaze back to the doorway. Nikolai is standing there smirking at me, still without a shirt on, but still clothed from the waist down.
I cringe when I realize how badly I just fell into that, blushing deeply. He smirks. “Fuck, this is going to be too easy.”
“Fuck you,” I snap.
He shrugs, smirking at me. “Hey, if you insist, princess. You know where to find me.”
He steps back into his own room, leaving me stewing and smoldering with heat. I’m in over my head. I’m playing with fire.
I really, really don’t want to stop.
8
Nikolai
Nine Years Ago:
“Hey, Niko!”
Samantha, the head nurse in the oncology ward at St. Mary’s, smiles at me. She always does, since I’ve been an almost daily visitor here over the last month.
“Hey, Samantha,” I mumble. This is the last time I’m going to see her. At least for a long, long time.
She frowns. “Hey, you’re headed off to join the Navy or somethin’ soon, aren’t you?”
“Marines.”
This was never the plan. Lofty or not, “The Plan” was to keep hitting the New York circuit until I had a solid record. Then I’d start pitching title fights, punching above my class for as long and as hard as it took to get to the top.
Like I said, it was a lofty plan. But it didn’t exactly include joining the fucking Marines.
But that was before aggressive breast cancer took my mom last year. That was before my size and strength started to get noticed by the wrong crowd, and I started to get mixed up with dumb shit. That was before I almost got caught up in a liquor store robbery that would’ve put me in prison for five years minimum and ended my title run.
That’s about when Mr. Palmer sat me down for a hardcore “come to Jesus” talk. It’s not like he pressed me, or even wanted me to join the service. But hearing about how rough shit was when he was coming up, and how joining up saved his ass from certain prison? That’s all I needed to hear.
Plus, Mr. P. was a Marine, too. Who the fuck else would I join?
“Ahh, that was it.” She smiles. “Well, you’ll have to let me know when you’re heading to basic!”
I clear my throat. “Uh, tomorrow, actually.”