Chapter Twenty
Chiara
I wake up feeling more thirsty than I’ve ever been in my life. I open my eyes, and expect to be alone again. Instead, I find that I am curled up against Misha’s big, hard body.
I remember having wine at my parents’ house. I remember my mom calling me a cab. After that, it’s kind of a jumble of images that I’m not sure are real. I left my back door open because Misha didn’t answer his phone? That can’t be right. I wouldn’t do that, would I?
But here he is, in my bed. He’s fully dressed, and I’m completely naked and wrapped up in his strong arms. It’s the first time we’ve woke up together. This feels amazing. He has a bit of blonde scruff on his pretty face. He looks so young and carefree. He’s almost smiling.
I wish he was nude, so I could go exploring. I’d love to kiss every inch of him. I don’t want to wake him, but I have to touch him. I reach out and lightly stroke the stubble on his chin. Then, I touch his soft, full bottom lip.
“Mmmmmmm,” he purrs, and pulls me closer.
My fingers stray down his neck, and he sighs loudly. I lean forward, and kiss his throat.
“Chi,” he whispers.
Yes! Even in his sleep he wants me. I kiss over his exposed skin, to right under his ear. His hands travel down my back. And my hands, well they travel down his front. I stop at his jeans, but his fingertips continue back up to my shoulders. I shiver at his gentle touch, the contrast between what I know about him, and how he is with me. Can this man, so young and innocent looking, really be a killer? What if he isn’t who he says he is? What if he’s trying to somehow impress me with the Bloody Ivanovich reputation?
I’m distracted from those thoughts when I notice his shirt is hiked up, and his flat stomach is exposed, I see a gap between his skin and the waistband of his pants. My hand slides down, into his jeans, and find his penis is wet and hard, and it extends way past his underwear.
I smile when I hear his sharp intake of breath. “Chi,” he mutters. He tries to move away, but I grab hold tight.
“You’re not getting away from me, Misha. You’re mine,” I whisper against his ear. “This is mine.”
“Yes, Chi, all of me is yours,” he relents, and rolls over onto his back. He places his hands behind his head, and leaves his eyes closed, but his grin looks pretty self-satisfied.
“I can’t believe you’re still in my bed,” I say, as I pull up on his shirt. He sits forward a little, and helps me remove it. “Why’d you sleep with your clothes on, anyway?”
He gives me a little sigh, but falls back onto the pillows. “You were drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”
That might be the sweetest thing a man has ever said. Ever. I thought men liked it when their partner’s inhibitions were down. Apparently not my man. And this man is a supposed to be a stone cold killer?
“I wasn’t drunk. I had some wine,” I argue. I hitch one leg up, and straddle his hips. My hands go out to his beautifully sculpted and inked torso, tracing the Bratva stars first. He inhales deep, but doesn’t resist. He’s obviously Bratva, because no sane man would have the tattoo inked on their skin if they weren’t.
“You were drunk enough to leave your back door wide open. I should put you over my knee for that stunt.” He opens one bright blue eye as he says it, but he doesn’t move except to snuggle deeper into the mattress and pillows.
“I might like that,” I tease, as I tip my head to kiss his chest.
“Oh girl, it’s hard to tell what I might do to you for that little comment,” he threatens, but he smiles as he says it.
I place my hands on his ribcage, and sit back a little to glance up at him. “I like this, Misha. I like having you to wake up with.”
“I was hoping you would,” he replies with a grin. “I’m hoping you might like to do it for a long time.”
I wiggle my center against him, and shiver at the sensation of thick denim against sensitive skin. I hear my own gasp. He smiles, and rests his tongue against his top teeth. “I want to watch you get yourself off. If my body is yours, take it however you want it.”
Our eyes meet, and I see his challenge. He looks so playful, so sweet, but the glint in his blue orbs is wicked as sin. His words make me hotter than maybe I’ve ever been, even when he seduces me. A jolt of desire crashes into me, as my gaze sweeps over his beautiful face. My hips buck, and he thrusts up against me. I cry out, and he grabs my hips and pulls me harder into his body. The sensations are shocking. But I want more.
I take a deep breath, and force the words out. “Then your jeans need to go.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” His fingers stray down and I feel them against my bare pussy as he slowly unbuttons and unzips his pants. “Damn, you’re wet treasure.” He flips his hand, and rubs his fingertips over my slit, and finds my clit easily.
“Ah!” I exclaim. The entire time he’s watching me, gauging my reactions. It’s sexy as hell, and a little more than I can take. “Take off your damn pants.”
He grins at me again, and shoves his hips off the bed as he does what I want. When his cock is free it thumps against me. My entire body shakes when I feel it. Then his lips shake, and it breaks something deep inside me. I want him, this, us, for the rest of my life. I want his love, and his sweetness, and his devotion. I want all of him.
I reach down between my legs, and hold him at the right angle as I slowly take him inside me. I hear him say no, but I don’t stop. The feel of him is too much, too hard, too wet, too silky. I smile, before I move forward to take his mouth. I have no idea why he’s saying no again and again. My tongue pushes its way between his lips, as I move my hips up and down on him.
This is heaven. Being with him, having him inside me, is everything I ever wanted. Finally he moves with me, driving us both toward our goal. I only have one thought, that there’s something I must do.
I pull away, while we make love, and find his eyes again. “I want you, Misha,” I murmur, as my orgasm crashes through me. “I’m yours.”
“Fuck everything,” he snaps, and flips me over onto my back. “Fuck all of it.”
I’ve said the wrong thing. He’s going to stop. He’s done with me.
His hands find my hair, his mouth takes mine, and his hips shove even deeper into me. I moan into his mouth. He’s way too damn good.
He breaks the kiss to whisper, “You’re mine, Chi. I’m going to make you mine. There’s no turning back for us.” Our eyes lock again. His are so full of emotion, and such a pure sparkling blue, I can see his love there. I feel his body shake as he thrusts one more time, so deep I feel all of him inside me, when he says, “I love you, Chi. I own you.” He finds his orgasm as he says it.
That’s when I realize he’s not wearing a condom. That’s why he was saying no. That’s why he tried to stop me. And that’s why he said he owns me.
Fuck! He looks so damn happy. He looks so pleased with what I’ve done, as if I meant to have sex without the condom and it wasn’t a huge mistake. Should I tell him it was an accident? Should I tell him it didn’t mean what he thinks it means?
“You really do want me, Chiara?” he whispers, before he kisses my cheek. “Is it true? Can someone like you want to be with someone as worthless as me?” He gently touches my face, and our eyes meet again.
I nod. It’s stupid, and it’s wrong, and it might get us both killed. But I can’t deny my feelings when he’s looking at me like that, like I am his only treasure and he would do anything to protect me.
“We’ll run away. We’ll get married, then your father can’t come between us. We’ll run somewhere they’ll never find us, a cottage on a lake somewhere in the south, where we can just live and be happy.” He sounds so excited, as if he’s already got it all planned out.
“I only have a few thousand dollars in the bank. I’d have to work,” I tell him.
“You could sell your ring and we could live for a year or two. By then they’ll forget about us. I have some money squirreled away. I can sell my apartment. We won’t starve.”
The sound of his voice, his excitement, I can almost believe him. I open my mouth to answer him, just as I hear a knock on my door.
“Were you expecting someone?” he asks me.
“No one stops by without calling first,” I reply. Suddenly I’m scared. What if my dad heard I was looking for him, and decided to stop by? What if it’s Frankie? “I need to go down and get rid of whoever it is.”
I hurry out of the bed when I hear another knock, this time a little louder. I shimmy into my jeans from yesterday, and throw a t-shirt over my head. He reaches out and grabs my shoulders when I’m dressed, then kisses the top of my head. I nod, and run toward the steps.
“Coming,” I call out. When I open the door, there’s a man I’ve never seen before standing there. He’s an incredibly handsome, very well dressed man, with dark hair and eyes almost as blue as Misha’s. Suddenly, I’m afraid.
And when he murmurs, “Is Misha here?” in a deep voice with an obviously Russian accent, I’m even more scared.
I immediately lie. “Misha? I don’t know anyone named…”
“What are you doing here, Dimitri?” he asks from behind me. I didn’t even hear him coming down the steps, probably because my heart is beating so loudly. He’s quickly thrown on his clothes from last night too.
“I wanted to meet the girl you’re willing to go to war for,” he says, as he looks me over. “She’s sweet, but not my type. May I come in?”
My eyes go wide, as I turn toward Misha. “It’s okay,” he says. I have a hard time believing that having two Russians in my house at the same time will ever be okay. But I step aside, and let him in.
I glare at Misha as I shake my head. “Please, this way,” I mutter as I wave my hand toward the sitting room. My hands are shaking as I close the door behind him.
“Thank you,” the stranger replies, and Misha leads him toward my overstuffed gray couch with the light blue and gray pillows. He’s a few inches shorter than Misha, but his shoulders and chest are much wider. He’s incredibly attractive, and if I’d met him before Misha, I might have just… Stop thinking that way, I scold myself, as I glance up at my lover. He’s just as gorgeous as I remember, and I’ve always preferred blondes anyway. I smile at him nervously.
He takes a seat, sitting on the edge of the pillows with his back as straight as a steel beam. “Hello, Chiara. I am Dimitri Federov. My father heads the Federov Bratva in New Jersey.” His voice is smooth, and exudes confidence. He’s definitely a gangster, and a very attractive one at that. I take a seat in a chair across from him.
I’ve heard of the Federov family of course, who hasn’t? I’ve also seen pictures of the hot oldest son, on the news, but I had no idea he’d ever be sitting in my living room. This must mean Misha is telling the truth about who he is. Why else would the crown prince of the Federov family risk coming to the house of his enemy’s fiancée, if Misha wasn’t special?
“My oldest brother Ivan is married to his sister, Petra.” My attention returns to Misha when he speaks. He’s standing beside my chair, with his arms folded over his chest. He looks extremely protective, almost like a bodyguard. I like it a lot. “I went to him for help.”
“He asked me to kidnap your sister. Is she as pretty as you are?”
I answer, “Even more beautiful, but she’s a little touched, if you know what I mean.”
He rolls his eyes, and says, “That’s too bad.”
Then I realize what he just said. “Wait, no one is kidnapping my sister!” This is a little too surreal for me. I shake my head, trying to clear it.
“You have a problem, though. You must marry Moretti, or lose your sister,” Dimitri says, as he looks at me.
“We’re past that now. My father was going to betray me either way.”
“Then, I guess it is war,” Dimitri says calmly, before asking, “Could I have a cup of tea?”