Evangeline

 

“Here’s the broom.”

I moved through the living room, my gaze pinned to Gian’s back. He held the brick in one hand and a hammer in the other.

Gian whirled around, anger and hostility vibrating from him. Truthfully, his intensity scared me a little bit. Not wanting to move any closer to him, I paused, my heart beating frantically.

He lifted his chin. “Do you know anything about the Russian mafia?”

I leaned the broom against the wall, and it slid to the floor with a loud clunk, making me flinch. “No. Why?”

“Just wondering.” He flipped the front of the brick toward me, his amber eyes rife with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

“Vor’s Property” was written across the brick in black letters with a five-point star bookending either side.

“What does it mean?”

“It’s not important.” He dropped the hammer on the entry table, the metal thumping against the white lacquered surface. “I think we’re good. We can clean up the glass tomorrow.”

I glanced at the plywood covering the glass panel on the top half of the door and then the glass littering the floor. “Are you sure? It will only take me a minute.”

“Yes. I don’t want to think about this any more tonight. I had a shitty night, and that was before I got home.”

I scoured his face, searching for clues, only I didn’t see any. I saw hunger mixed with a whole lot of uncertainty. “What’s wrong?”

Gian pressed his fingers to my lips. “Not now.”

His fingers slotted through mine, and he guided me wordlessly up the stairs. I followed, more than a little anxious from the volatile energy zipping around us like a storm on the horizon. With every thump of our footsteps on the stairs, my anxiety soared higher and higher. He bypassed the second floor, leading me straight to his bedroom. Images of last night freeze-framed inside my brain.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea for me to sleep—?”

His mouth crashed against mine, kissing me single-mindedly and with enough passion to set me ablaze. His hands snaked around my hips, hauling me tightly against him. He guided me backward until my thighs bumped into the side of the mattress.

I broke our kiss. His throat bobbed heavily, and he looked at me through hooded lids, his eyes generating enough power to light up the Brooklyn Bridge.

“What are you doing to me?” I whispered, more to myself than him because I was powerless to deny him anything from the moment I met him.

His fingers curled around the hem of my camisole, and he yanked it over my head.

“Cute.” He tugged on the baby pink bow at the heart of my black lace bralette, his thumbs brushing across my nipples, soft and gentle. His barely-there touches elicited sparks of pleasure in my core. I glanced up, and my belly somersaulted when I saw the look on his face.

Lust. Desire. Passion.

I gasped for breath. It was official. I was a mistake magnet. Put a bad choice in my path, and I gravitated toward it like I’d discovered a unicorn standing next to a pot of gold under a friggin’ rainbow.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and like a dummy on strings, I met his stare again. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight streaming in from the overhead skylight. He buried his hands in my hair, and a faint twinge of pain nipped at my scalp. “I don’t want your mind anywhere else except on me.”

He lowered me to the bed. “Take off your pants,” he ordered, loosening his tie and pulling it over his head.

I shimmied my tight yoga pants and panties down my legs, stopping only to gape at him when he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the floor. Next went his shirt. With every button he flicked open, he revealed another inch of his golden skin. My heart drummed faster and faster, and the air seemed to thicken, cocooning us in our own world.

“You look fucking beautiful sprawled out on my bed with pink cheeks, parted lips, and your heavy eyes.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

His pants pooled on the floor, and his belt buckle jingled. I barely blinked twice, and his body had already covered mine. He pulled my nipple into his mouth, sucking, licking, and grazing the sensitive bud.

His tongue leisurely flicked over my nipple, and I arched my back. The chilly breeze from the fan wafted over my skin. Less than a second later, his hot mouth pressed against the top of my breast, sucking hard. Lifting his head, he grinned at the little red mark dotting my pale skin.

“Nice,” he mumbled.

I didn’t object, because a little part of me liked the idea of him branding me as his if only temporarily.

His hand snaked between our bodies, his fingers moving with confidence over my already slick flesh. He found my opening, sank one finger deep inside of me, and I shuddered, my inner walls tightening in an entreaty for more.

Gian swore under his breath, and I could smell a hint of wine on his breath. He withdrew his finger and guided the broad head of his penis into place.

His lambent gaze collided with mine. “Can’t wait,” he said, his voice a wicked growl.

With one violent flex of his hips, he surged into me. I stiffened, my breath quickening. My fists knotted in the duvet cover beneath me.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” The rumbling timbre of his voice ignited a full body shiver that sunk deep into my bones.

He pulled back and then slid in again a fraction, rocking against me, moving deeper little by little with every micro-thrust until he was exactly where I needed him to be. My hands curled into the rope-like muscles lining his spine. The headboard banged against the wall. Sweat glistened on his brow. His hair stuck up, and his teeth were clamped together. Our moans morphed into one heady sound.

Every stray thought evaporated, and I could only think about him and the way he felt inside of me. My entire body sang with a pleasure so devastatingly perfect I feared I’d spontaneously combust.

I panted, desperate for the release building with every second. His name tumbled from my lips along with a hundred other disjointed thoughts, each one more lurid in my mind than in expression.

I slid my hands up his back to his neck, pulling his lips against mine, needing to taste him, needing to be connected in every way possible. I gasped when our lips separated, and he nipped my bottom lip. I bucked beneath him, my nails digging into his scalp. I was close. So close. I felt him everywhere.

My legs shuddered. My hands tingled. My skin prickled. My toes curled. Before I could break down every spine-tingling sensation, I shattered into a million pieces. My eyes pinching closed, I rode the waves of pleasure speeding through me until my muscles unwound bit-by-bit.

Seconds later, Gian collapsed on me, the course smatterings of hair on his chest rubbing against my nipples and his hips surging into me with enough force that I slid up the bed with every thrust. He grunted out my full name as he came, the four syllables echoing off the vaulted ceiling like a benediction.

My senses came back to me piecemeal, as if I were awakening from a long, drug-induced sleep.

I felt him inside of me. I felt the heavy weight of his body over mine, the pounding of his heart against my chest, the sheen of sweat coating our bodies. And I felt content. Better than content. I was happy.

The second the thought took root, regret reared its ugly head, creeping into the fissures of my already wounded heart. As fast as the emotion materialized, I mentally beat it back with a stick. I was living in the moment tonight and for the foreseeable future because all my plotting and planning hadn’t got me anywhere noteworthy.

I ruffled my fingers through his hair, and he groaned, rolling off me. When he opened his mouth to say something, I pressed my fingers to his lips and shook my head. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to hear his thoughts. I didn’t want to think. I curled my body around his, sliding my leg up over his, and pretended fate was on my side and everything would work out the way it was meant to.