Chapter 3

To any chef’s satisfaction, every bite of fresh pasta with homemade red sauce disappeared down grateful gullets. The cheap red wine offset the rich tomato and liberal sprinkling of cheese.

“That was excellent,” Pyotr complimented as he patted a drop of sauce from the corner of his mouth. He grinned widely and proclaimed, “You shall cook for me always, moy sladkiy.” He loudly kissed the tips of his thumb and forefinger in a comic imitation of a French gesture.

Cecily giggled and blushed, pleased by the praise and a little in awe of the flamboyant Russian.

“Let’s get these dishes washed,” Latasha said as she rose from the table.

“Lunch was fabulous, Cecily,” Gia complimented and carried her plate to the counter where Latasha was already running water into the sink. She looked at her friend and said, “You wash and I’ll dry.”

Latasha gave her a sad little smile. “This is probably the last time we’ll do this.”

“Of course not,” Gia soothed. “Vitaly says he won’t isolate me from my friends and family. We’ll visit often and I’ll definitely see you on campus.”

Latasha bumped her with her bony hip. “Don’t be stupid, Gia. We don’t see each other now on campus. I’m in the school of nursing and you’re playing in the lake with your classmates and test tubes.”

“Okay, so we won’t see each other on campus. But we will visit. Often.”

Latasha held up a soapy dripping hand, pinky extended. “Pinky swear?”

Gia linked her pinky with hers and said, “Pinky swear.”

Vitaly and Pyotr watched quietly as the young women softly spoke their good-byes with promises to stay in touch. Gia sent him a quick, pleading glance. He nodded, reminding her of his promise to her. She gave him a soft, grateful smile that, for some weird reason, depressed him. He did want her gratitude; he wanted more.

“We’ll need to find a man for the third one,” Pyotr commented, speaking quietly in Russian to keep their conversation private. “Iosif might like her. He prefers the exotic types.”

“He also likes them submissive, very submissive. This one’s fearless.”

“What about Gennady?”

“Gennady’s a brute. He’d break her.”

Pyotr cocked his head to the side and pondered the matter. Then he grinned widely. “I have it, Vitaly. Timur.”

“Who’s that?”

“He’s newly arrived from Russia just last week. He’s the new cleaner replacing Yakov.”

Vitaly nodded. “I’d like to meet this Timur.”

“It’s not like you to adopt strays, Vitaly.”

“These are my bride’s dearest friends. It is my duty to look after them.”

“You carry duty a little far, old friend. But trust that I’ll see that they remain safe and unmolested.” Pyotr’s expression turned fierce. “Sesiliya will be mine and I’ll kill any man who disrespects her.”

“Let her graduate before you marry her,” Vitaly advised.

“Oh, like you are?” the other man pointed out his colleague’s hypocrisy.

“We marry quickly to keep her safe from the Culebras. I’d still want to make her mine, but I would have preferred to wait until she graduated.”

“Does your girl cook?”

“I have no idea. She’s a marine biologist,” he said proudly.

“Smart girl,” Pyotr commented neutrally. “It’s the smart ones you have to beware of.”

“I’ll earn her loyalty.”

Pyotr laughed, knowing just how Vitaly intended to affix Gia’s loyalty to him. The Bratva’s notorious inquisitor had legendary skills both with his tools and between the sheets. However, the other man knew that, regardless of Vitaly’s reputation, the man did not engage in indiscriminate sex like many of their brothers. Vitaly also had a reputation for discernment and selective tastes.

“It’s been a long time since you flaunted a woman by your side, old friend.”

“A long time doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten anything.”

“If nothing else, nature will remind your cock what it’s made to do.”

Vitaly cast an assessing glance at Cecily, who had joined her friends at the sink to dry dishes and put them away. “That one needs passion, not just an appreciation for her cooking.”

Pyotr grinned at him and ran a big hand over his closely shorn, blond hair. “She’ll get it. I will dislike waiting to sink into such delicious softness.”

Their conversation ended as the women finished tidying up the kitchen.

“Cecily, I hope you don’t mind, but Latasha and I packed for you,” Gia said as she shut the cabinet door after putting the last plate away.

“As long as you remembered my favorite blue sweater, we’re good,” she replied cheerfully, still riding the high of having two total strangers enthusiastically compliment her cooking.

“And the apron we gave you for your birthday,” Latasha added with a sly grin.

“Oh, not that!”

“You bet, sister. It’s my goal to get you every obnoxious apron available before we’re thirty.”

Cheeks pink, Cecily shook her head and headed back to her bedroom, which was little bigger than a closet.

“We’re ready,” Latasha stated, settling her hands on her hips.

“Make sure you’ve something to wear to the wedding,” Vitaly said with a nod.

Gia looked uncomfortable, as her wardrobe had nothing suitable to wear to her own wedding. Vitaly caught her discomfort and drew her into his arms. “That is one of the reasons we’re going shopping today.”

She looked up at him, embarrassed to admit the paucity of her finances yet again. “I can’t afford a wedding gown, even if we can find one that fits.”

“I can,” he said.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her through the expedient method used by men for untold ages: he kissed her. Gia gasped, which gained his tongue entry into her mouth. She could taste the lingering flavor of tomato and wine on his tongue as he explored her mouth. A moan rose from her throat even as her body melted against him and her thoughts fizzled.

“Wow, I think my I.Q. just dropped twenty points from watching that,” Latasha whispered to Cecily as they witnessed the couple’s burgeoning passion as they rolled out their bulging suitcases.

“I want passion like that,” Cecily admitted wistfully. She looked down at herself and spread her hands. “But men don’t go for fatties like me.”

“You’re not fat, you’re curvy,” Latasha said loyally. “And, if I don’t miss my guess, you’ll be next to have a hot Russian mobster putting a ring on your finger.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Ain’t nothing silly about it. The Viking over there was smitten first by your food and then by your Teutonic beauty.”

“Teutonic?”

“Hey, I know big words, too. Gia’s not the only smart one.”

Cecily laughed and made a mental note to look up the word “Teutonic.”

“Gia, get your stuff,” Latasha reminded her friend.

Vitaly reluctantly released his fiancée who clung to him with a dazed expression he wanted to keep on her face. “Go on, moy sladkiy.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means ‘my sweet.’”

A fatuous smile spread across Gia’s face. Latasha and Cecily giggled.

“Oooh, she’s got it bad,” the skinny woman taunted softly, although her eyes were kind.

Gia giggled and retrieved her luggage.

Vitaly and Pyotr took command of their suitcases and hauled them to the large black car occupied by a driver whose dead-eyed expression sent chills up Gia’s spine.

“Zdravstvuyte, Gennady,” Vitaly greeted their driver as he and Pyotr loaded luggage into the spacious trunk of the car.

The slender, dark haired man nodded, eyes noticing everything. “That everything?”

“Almost.”

Pyotr was already bringing the last two bags.

“You know where to take the girls, the blonde and the black one?”

“Pyotr sent me a text. He says they’re staying with him.”

Vitaly’s left eyebrow rose in surprise. Pyotr was indeed serious about Cecily if he was going so far as to extend his hospitality and protection to Latasha, too.

“Pyotr’s a good man.”

Gennady’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing in response.

“Cecily, Latasha, you ride with Pyotr,” Vitaly said. “Pyotr, if you don’t mind, load Giancarla’s bags into my car. We’ve some errands to run yet.”

Pyotr, whose demeanor had turned from jocular to alert and dangerous, nodded and complied while Vitaly guarded the three young women. As he passed his colleague on his way back to the other car, he said, “We are even, you owe me nothing.”

Vitaly merely raised his eyebrow. Pyotr elaborated: “You gave me Cecily. I owe you a favor.”

He nodded his understanding and hoped he’d never have to call in that favor. Pyotr’s jolly demeanor could be especially frightening to his victims. While capable of great affection and gentleness, the man enjoyed his work as an enforcer.

“What was that about?” Gia asked quietly, tugging on Vitaly’s sleeve.

“What do you mean?” he asked with every appearance of innocence. It sat ill upon him.

“Don’t be obtuse. You and Pyotr made an exchange. I want to know what it was.”

He raised an eyebrow in query. She glared at him and just managed not to stomp her foot in pique.

“I’m not stupid, Vitaly. What’s going on?”

He could not help the small smile that curved the corners of his mouth. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he said, “Pyotr is enamored of your friend Cecily.”

She looked stricken. She glanced at the big brute and paled.

“He won’t hurt her, will he?”

“Pyotr? He doesn’t hit women or children. He’s no coward.”

Gia pursed her lips and tried again. “Cecily’s a softhearted soul. He won’t be unkind to her, will he?”

Vitaly shook his head and said, “For her cooking alone, he’ll put her on a pedestal. If she gives him sons—”

“Sons! You didn’t say anything about marriage,” she hissed.

“Pyotr’s intentions toward your friend are honorable.”

“But—”

Vitaly pressed a finger to her lips, quieting the words. “Do you trust me, Giancarla?”

She frowned.

“Do you trust me?”

Slowly, possibly reluctantly, she nodded. Her uncertainty annoyed him, even if he could understand her hesitation. What must he do, he wondered, to earn this woman’s trust?

“Pyotr would no more hurt Cecily than I would hurt you,” he whispered.

Her eyes widened.

“Have I not already pledged to keep you safe? Always?”

She nodded slowly.

“Good,” he said. “We understand each other.”

“Ready?” Pyotr called.

“Go with him,” Vitaly ordered Latasha and Cecily.

“Will Gia be okay?” Latasha asked before taking a single step.

“I will protect her with my name and my life,” Vitaly answered solemnly.

She nodded, accepting his word. She hooked her arm through Cecily’s and muttered, “Come on. It looks like we’re not wanted.”

“No, that’s not true,” Gia protested.

“Yes, it is,” Vitaly said. “I told you we have much to do today.”

“But—”

“We’ll see them soon. Come.” He held out his hand and she placed her palm against his. That she did so without hesitation encouraged him. She trusted him, even if she couldn’t quite admit it yet.

From the rundown apartment he drove to the nearest upscale shopping mall. He escorted her to the bridal shop where Gia spent two hours searching through frothy white and ivory gowns and finally settled on one that was deceptively simple in its styling. It made her feel glamorous and look like a princess. She smiled at her reflection in the triple mirror, then looked at the price tag and frowned.

“Do you like it?” Vitaly asked.

“It’s beautiful and it even fits properly,” she answered, “but it’s too expensive.”

He glanced at the store’s clerk and said curtly, “She’ll take it.”

“But—”

“This is the one that makes you smile. This is the one you get.” His tone brooked no argument.

“Thank you, Vitaly.”

He nodded and checked his watch. They were due at the courthouse shortly. With a few short commands, he collected his fiancée, paid for the dress, and arranged for its delivery to his house. He held out his hand and Gia took it. They returned to his car.

“Where are we going, Vitaly?”

“The courthouse. There are legalities that must be satisfied.”

“Oh.”

The city’s bureaucrats actually processed the necessary legal documents with efficiency and pleasant wishes for a happy nuptial celebration. Vitaly found himself surprised, but kept all indication of his disbelieving astonishment off his face. It wouldn’t do to offend the government minions. They’d manage to lose the paperwork or otherwise delay the process.

“Rings,” Vitaly murmured to himself.

“Sorry?” Gia said, thinking she’d missed something.

“Rings,” he repeated clearly. “Come.”

Again, she automatically took his hand at his prompt. It was interesting how quickly she had grown comfortable with her hand enveloped in his. She looked up at his chiseled profile, the strong column of his neck, the broad width of his shoulders. As though aware of her misgivings, he glanced down at her and gave her a reassuring smile even as he tucked her more closely to his body.

“All will be well,” he promised.

She nodded, uncertainty glinting in her eyes.

Vitaly drove them to a small shop near the center of town. Obediently, she waited for him to walk around to the passenger side of the car and hand her out of the vehicle. He kept her tucked close to his side as they walked into the modest building.

“Hello, Vitaly!” the proprietor greeted with a broad smile. “Is Maksim wanting another bauble for his lovely wife?”

“Hello, Istvan,” Vitaly said with a cordial nod in the jeweler’s direction. “I need a wedding ring.”

The man’s bushy eyebrows rose to his receding hairline in surprise. He nodded toward Gia and asked, in Russian, “I trust this is the lucky lady?”

“Da.”

“Welcome! Welcome!” the old man enthused in English as he smiled broadly toward the nervous young woman. “We will find something magnificent for you, no?”

Gentle pressure at her lower back propelled Gia forward. She glanced uncertainly at Vitaly, who merely said, “Choose what best suits your taste. You’ll be wearing it for the rest of your life.”

Istvan chortled and said, “See! This is a man who understands the value of jewelry. It’s meant to be worn. If the lady doesn’t love it, then she won’t wear it and that, my girl, is a waste.”

Then, as though recalling his manners as their host, he called out, “Kornelia! Bring coffee and those little butter cookies that Vitaly likes!”

A moment later, a plump woman of an age with the portly jeweler backed through a door carrying a silver tray loaded with a coffee pot, delicate china cups, and a small china plate heaped with an assortment of Danish butter cookies.

“Vitaly likes these, eh?” the jeweler remarked with another teasing grin. In a loud whisper meant to be overheard, he added, “You give Vitaly these and he can refuse you nothing, nothing!”

As he picked up a cookie in silent admission of a culinary weakness, Vitaly rather thought that there was something else Giancarla could offer him that would melt any objection or protest to any request she might make. He popped a cookie into his mouth and nodded encouragingly at her. Unbidden, he sighed with pleasure as the crisp butter cookie melted on his tongue. Kornelia indeed had a light and expert hand with pastries.

“Were you not already married, I would keep you for myself,” he complimented the older woman who blushed a rosy red with pleasure.

Gia smiled to herself, thinking how nice it was for big, fearsome Vitaly to offer such a sweet compliment to the jeweler’s wife. She looked over the rings for several minutes until one seemed to beckon to her.

“I like that one,” she said.

“The big solitaire?” Istvan inquired.

“No, the one behind it and a little to my right.”

“Hah! Your girl, eh, Vitaly, she has a good eye!” the jeweler commented as he lifted the bridal set from the brightly lit case. He directed a piercing look at the young woman: “It calls to you?”

She nodded, relieved the old man seemed to understand.

“Try it on, my dear.”

Her hands trembled. Vitaly stepped forward and gently took the ring.

“Allow me.”

He slid the entwined circles of yellow and white gold, with one of the three circles alternately studded with diamonds and rubies, over her finger. He held her trembling hand steady and inhaled with surprise at the deep feeling of satisfaction he felt upon seeing what he immediately thought of as his ring upon his woman’s hand. It fit perfectly.

“We’ll take it,” he decided.

“Khorosho!” Istvan approved.

“Won’t you need a ring, too?” Gia asked her fiancé.

“Da,” Istvan agreed. “The girl is right. You need a ring, too. I have a matching one here. Try it on.”

Looking a bit pained and browbeaten, Vitaly took the masculine version of the wedding ring from the jeweler. His hands trembled.

With the corner of her mouth curled upward at the irony, Gia took the ring and his hand and said, “Allow me.”

She sighed as she slid the entwined gold circles over his thick finger and sighed again upon realizing that it fit him perfectly.

“Ya prodayu sootvetstviya petukh kol'tso,” the jeweler offered with a sly smile. He waggled his bushy eyebrows. “Wear that and you’ll not fear disappointing your new bride, eh?”

“I won’t need it,” Vitaly politely declined the offer of a matching cock ring. “At least, not yet.”

“Keep it in mind, young man. The women enjoy them.”

Vitaly nodded, grateful that Kornelia had already returned to the back part of the house where she and Istvan lived. The mental image of Istvan’s wrinkly old cock adorned with such jewelry as he made love to his plump wife was not what he wanted burned onto his retinas.

“What are you whispering about?” Gia asked.

“Istvan was offering some coordinating jewelry, but I said that the wedding bands were sufficient.”

“Oh, of course,” she hastily agreed in all innocence of a dirty old man’s suggestion. “I’m not greedy.”

“No, you’re not. And you’ve little need for jewelry to enhance your beauty.”

She blushed at the fulsome compliment.

“But what about you, Vitaly? She might like something shiny so she need not look at your ugly face,” Istvan cracked and cackled merrily.

“I don’t think he’s ugly at all,” Gia said with quiet conviction.

“Must be true love,” Istvan commented with a sigh as he deftly boxed the rings. “Shall I send these to your best man?”

“No, thank you. I’ll hand them to Maksim.”

“Maksim is a romantic,” the jeweler commented slyly with a sidelong glance at Gia. “You’d never know it to look at him, but he absolutely dotes upon that pretty wife of his.”

“Then Vitaly has a good example to follow,” Gia replied with her own answering grin.

“Da.” The old man shook a finger at Vitaly and admonished him. “You treat this one good.”

Vitaly smiled slowly and his eyelids dropped to half-mast. “You can be sure of that.” He looked down at Gia and asked, “Are you ready to go?”

“Sure.”

They had a few more stops to make: a shoe store, a lingerie boutique where Gia flatly refused to model her purchases, and a florist.

“What about you?” she asked. “Don’t you have to get a suit or something?”

“I have a tux,” he replied evenly.

Gia made an effort not to gape. She’d never actually known anyone who owned a tuxedo. Her eyes roamed his muscular physique and she imagined him wearing a dashing tuxedo. He would undoubtedly look impressive. Then she remembered that, beyond the luxury of this shopping trip, she was preparing to bind her life to his for the rest of their lives...and she really did not know the man.

“Tell me about yourself,” she asked. “Please.”

He glanced at her and replied, “You already know more than most of my colleagues.”

“But I don’t know your favorite color, your favorite food, what music you like.”

“Red, steak, and classic rock.”

She frowned at the superficial knowledge he carelessly imparted. It wasn’t sufficient, but she didn’t know how to go about ensuring that he wouldn’t treat her poorly without giving offense.

“I’m nervous, Vitaly,” she admitted.

“I know,” he acknowledged, knowing there was little he could do to alleviate her anxiety. “Maksim will be enchanted by you. Olivia’s a warm-hearted soul. She will take you under her wing and urge you to eat until you want to explode. I will keep you safe and give you pleasure and babies.” He shrugged: what more did she need to know?

Her hands twisted in her lap. He covered them with his and squeezed lightly.

“This is for the best, Giancarla. We’ll be good together, you’ll see.”

Gia recalled the hot, rigid length of him that had pressed against her that morning and wondered if her estimate of his size was correct and, if so, whether that thing would actually fit inside her. She swallowed nervously and knew that he needed to know her utter lack of experience.

Cheeks burning, she stuttered, “V-Vitaly? Th-there’s something you need to know.”

“Yes?” he gently prompted.

“I-I-I’m...er...not exactly e-e-experienced.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, the knuckles showing white, as he interpreted her shy admission. “Giancarla, are you a virgin?”

“Yes.” Her voice was small, almost inaudible, nearly ashamed.

Vitaly wondered how a young woman as pretty as this could have remained virginal at what the ripe old age of twenty-five. He decided not to question that gift horse, but to simply give thanks that this woman whom he had claimed and meant to possess utterly would be his in every way.

“This is a precious gift you offer.”

She turned her face to look out the passenger door window and thought that it wasn’t like she was actually given much of a choice in offering him her virginity. But that choice of the least of evils had the best potential for continued existence and perhaps some comfort. He’d probably regret his offer, she thought, and her acceptance, especially if he ever found a woman he really loved. Did hard, violent men like Vitaly even love?

When they arrived home after a long afternoon of shopping, daylight had already given way to dusk. Again, Gia waited for Vitaly to hand her out of the car before heading to the trunk to assist with carrying in their purchases which were quickly put away for the next day’s use.

“Hungry?” Vitaly asked.

“Surprisingly, yes.”

He wondered why “surprisingly,” but then decided that she was merely nervous about their wedding the next day. He pulled out a package of shrimp from the refrigerator.

“Um, I can make a quick shrimp gumbo if you like,” she offered, thinking that cooking supper would be some small recompense for all that he had already done for her.

“You cook?”

“I do okay,” she said modestly. “I’m nothing like Cecily the kitchen wizard, but I’ve managed not to poison anyone either.”

He gave her a smile her attempt at humor.

“I’ve never had gumbo,” he admitted.

She tilted her head to one side and asked, “Do you like mild or spicy?”

“A little heat is always good.”

“Do you have any tabasco sauce?”

“I might. What else do you need?”

She ticked each ingredient off on her fingers: “Bell peppers, celery, thyme, garlic, chicken broth, rice, onions, flour, butter, lemon, cayenne pepper, salt, black pepper, and mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms?”

“I like to add a few ingredients that you don’t find in a traditional Cajun recipe. Mushrooms add texture and a heartier flavor.”

“Perhaps you are as much of a kitchen wizard as your friend Cecily.”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, I just like to ad lib a bit in the kitchen. I’m not truly as creative and skilled as she is.” Tilting her head again, she added perceptively, “Your friend Pyotr will gain a hundred pounds in a year if he gives Cecily the run of his kitchen.”

Vitaly laughed. “Then I predict that Pytor’s kitchen will be the envy of us all and his invitations to dinner will be most coveted.”

Her expression turned worried. “You’re sure that Latasha and Cecily will be safe? I’d hate if they were hurt because of me.”

He disliked her distrust of his earlier reassurance, but realized that such worry did not reflect upon him, not truly. She simply did not know him sufficiently to understand that a man’s word was his bond. If he and Pyotr said the women were safe, then safe they would be.

“Pyotr will give his life for them if circumstances so dictate.”

Her eyes widened at his serious tone. “I wouldn’t want it to come to that!”

“It probably won’t,” he soothed. He concentrated for a moment and then recited the list of ingredients she listed a moment earlier. “Is that correct?”

“Yes. You’ve got an amazing memory.”

He nodded and said, “Stay inside. Do not answer the phone or open the door. I will go to the market to pick up those ingredients I do not already have.”

She nodded, already knowing better than to defy him. After all, he couldn’t protect her if she acted stupidly.

“I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Okay.”

And then he was gone. Gia rummaged through the cupboards, refrigerator, and pantry, finding most of the ingredients she needed. She filled a pot with water for the rice and then set to chopping vegetables. When he returned, she was ready to begin cooking in earnest. Like they’d been married for years, she thanked him for those last ingredients and shooed him from the kitchen. He kissed her on the cheek and allowed himself to be waved away, but not without glancing back at her sexy backside and fantasizing about hoisting her to the countertop and stepping between her legs.

The kitchen was likely to become his second favorite room in the house, right after the bedroom.

The gumbo was fabulous. Vitaly made a mental note to sing its praises to Maksim, who practically lived on a diet of roasted meat, potatoes, and cabbage. He hoped that Olivia had planned the reception with tastes other than her husband’s in mind.

He helped her clear the table, clean the dishes, and put them away. Gia sent him some curious glances as though his domesticity puzzled her. He shoved the observation aside; it wasn’t important. A man did what was necessary and keeping his own home clean and tidy was necessary if he didn’t want to run through a procession of increasingly nervous housekeepers.

It just wouldn’t do for the maid to run across a stash of weapons. Or the specialized tools of his bloody trade.

“Come, relax with me,” he urged, taking her by the hand and drawing her into the living room. She accompanied him, but her eyes showed wary caution. He seated himself on the sofa and pulled her down beside him, making sure that she snuggled warmly beneath the bulky arm draped around her shoulders. With his other hand, he picked up the remote control and began flipping through television channels.

After a long moment of irritation, Gia snatched the remote from his hand and said, “Quit that. Pick a channel and stick with it.”

He smiled to himself as she settled upon a channel playing a rerun of Big Bang Theory. It wasn’t something he usually watched, but he enjoyed her chuckles and the way she relaxed against him. He enjoyed it so much that he needed to shift his seat for comfort.

With the warm, feminine scent of her filling his nose and the soft weight of her pressed against his side, he found his hand lightly stroking her shoulder and upper arm. Glancing down, he noticed the press of her nipples against the fabric of her shirt, the occasional shift and press of her thighs, the slightly elevated pace of her breathing.

He wasn’t the only one suffering from arousal.

Vitaly wanted to carry her off to bed, but a man who was any kind of man at all did not haul his virgin bride to his bed for pre-wedding defilement. So he endured another hour of primetime television and the torture of a warmly aroused woman snuggled safely beneath his arm.

Gia blinked with surprise when Vitaly took back the remote control and set it aside after turning off the television.

“We’re both tired. It’s time for bed.”

She opened her mouth to protest that she wasn’t sleepy, but the words disappeared into a yawn. She allowed him to haul her to her feet and then meekly allowed herself to be towed along behind him to his bedroom.

“Vitaly,” she began, but didn’t quite know what to say.

“Your virtue will remain intact tonight,” he promised as he drew her close.

Heat radiated off his big body, which seemed to stimulate an answering heat in her own body. She trembled as he hugged her, the rigid length of his erection pressing through layers of cloth against her belly. Her body answered the feel of that with a gush of moisture between her thighs. Vitaly’s nostrils flared as he caught the scent of her heightened arousal.

“I should sleep in a separate bed,” she muttered even as she inhaled the masculine scent of man and fought not to burrow more deeply into his embrace. What was that urge to rub herself against him like a cat in heat?

“Nyet. Your place is with me.”

She wanted to argue or, rather, she thought it was her obligation to argue. But, damn it, she liked when he held her. He made her feel safe, secure, and desired. So she nodded her acquiescence, cheek rubbing against the soft material of his shirt and feeling the bulge of hard muscle beneath the fabric.

“Clean up for bed,” he ordered and gave her a little push toward the bathroom as though she were a child. “We have an early day tomorrow.”

Gia obeyed, performed her nighttime ablutions, and emerged still fully clothed. Vitaly sat on the bed, clad only in his undershorts which did nothing to hide the thick length of his erection. Gia’s gaze locked on to the evidence of his desire for her, unconsciously licking her suddenly dry lips at the sight of the bulbous tip of him protruding above the elastic waistband all the way up to his navel.

Vitaly wanted to groan. He wanted to yank her to the bed and crawl over her, to plunge inside her wet heat. With fine control, he held out a tee shirt.

“Sleep in this tonight.”

She looked as though she might object. After all, her clothing had been transferred to his house and she could wear her own nightgown.

Before she could say anything, he rose and said, “Wear this. I like seeing you in my shirt.”

Gia opened her mouth to protest, but again the words died before she could utter them. Instead, she nodded and took the shirt from his hand. He disappeared into the bathroom and she hurriedly exchanged her clothes for his shirt. Because she didn’t know whether lingering outside the bed so minimally clad or waiting for him to join her beneath the covers was worse, she decided that she might as well get a lead on making herself comfortable beneath the covers. She feigned sleep when the bathroom door opened and he climbed in beside her.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmured in her ear as the mattress dipped beneath his weight and caused her roll into him. His arm wrapped around her, drawing her into the shelter of his big body. He wriggled his hips a little so that his penis, long and hard, nestled neatly between her buttocks. She stifled a choke when it jumped and pulsed against her.

“It has a mind of its own,” he said.

His warm breath wafted over her ear, only to be followed by the light touch of his lips against the tender skin of her neck. Gia could not stifle the sigh that escaped her mouth as he kissed and nibbled her from earlobe to shoulder. Nor could she quell her moan when his big hand cupped her swollen, heavy breast and began to knead the pliant flesh. No man had ever touched her like that and she could hardly help but yield to the pleasure his slow, sensuous touch gave her.

She squeaked when his hand traveled downward and slipped beneath the nylon waistband of her panties. His long fingers tangled in the wiry hair covering her mound. Her breath caught again when those fingers delved lower and one hairy, muscled leg slide between hers to open her thighs enough for unimpeded access to the wet, heated core of her.

She panted and her breath hitched when he dipped a finger between the swollen labia. She could not help the rocking of her hips as he slowly, gently, mercilessly drove her passion higher until she keened and begged for release. Vitaly rocked against her, giving himself the pleasure of friction as he touched his virgin bride. She moaned, biting her lower lip in mortification when he flicked his fingertip over the tiny bud of her clitoris and she shattered in his hand. With a groan, he pressed his hips against her as he erupted in his shorts, something he hadn’t done since adolescence.

He withdrew his hand from between her legs and brought his fingers to his mouth. He took a second to inhale the musky fragrance of her arousal, then enjoyed sucking her cream off his fingers.

“Vitaly?”

“Hush, Giancarla. Go to sleep.”

Surprisingly, he fell asleep quickly, too.