Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
God, fucking has never felt as good as this. Being inside her and making her writhe beneath me has fast become an addiction I’m not ready to quit anytime soon. I plan on making my zayka moan and cry my name and come on my cock over and over and over again.
My balls tighten. Fuck, my body has never felt this good. This hard. This fucking drunk on another human being.
What the fuck is happening to me?
What is she doing to me?
I shift my hips to grind slowly into her, and it’s her undoing. Her eyes lose focus, and her mouth parts, and a low, desperate moan falls from between her lips. Her pussy convulses around me, tight flutters that signal her release.
I slide my tongue along her damp neck as she arches it with a cry, then slam my mouth to hers and kiss her through her orgasm. And before I know it, I’m releasing into her body with a roar.
Fuck me.
Mind.
Blown.
I collapse beside her and pull her onto my chest.
She smiles against my skin and relaxes against me, and I feel her racing pulse calm and become even. “Sweet dreams, Lev,” she whispers.
I press a kiss to the crown of her head and let the heady hit of dopamine soften my muscles and ease my own pounding heart.
It’s probably selfish. Damn, I know it is. But I want to be the man for her. I want to love her. Protect her. Be the man she deserves. The man she wants.
Because I want her. I can’t let her go. And any fears of becoming vulnerable because of my feelings for her pale in comparison to the fear of losing her.
I want this.
I want us.
I want forever with her.
10
BROOKE
The following day, I visit Igor in the hospital. Last night, Lev was quiet and clearly affected by seeing his lifelong friend so broken, and now, as I’m staring at the bed where Igor lays silently, I can see why. Igor is swathed in bandages, his eyes closed, and a ventilator is breathing for him.
My stomach aches. He’s bandaged down to his fingers. I place mine on top of his. “I’m sorry, Igor.” My voice sounds so small against the rhythmic sucking of the ventilator. “Please keep fighting.”
I think about the giant man I was afraid of on that first night when Lev took me from my apartment and how, over the course of mere weeks, I somehow formed a bond with him.
I think about how sweet he and Enya looked together as they cuddled and shared a sandwich, and my heart breaks for them both.
I think about the baby growing in my belly and how one day this could be them lying in a hospital bed because their father is the pakhan, and in his world of blood and power, happily ever afters are in short supply.
A shiver rolls through me and I have to push the thought away. No good can come from thinking things like that.
I feel a presence behind me and swing around.
Agent Michaels.
Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I turn my focus back to Igor. “How did you get past the bodyguard posted at the door?”
“It’s called FBI credentials and the threat of prison time for obstructing justice.”
I scoff. He doesn’t want justice. He wants Lev’s head on a platter so he can take it back to his bosses at the bureau and show them how tough and clever he is.
I keep my eyes on Igor as I ask, “Are you stalking me now?”
“Is that what Lev told you, that I stalk him?”
“He calls you his shadow,” I say, then immediately regret opening my mouth.
I need to be careful around this guy. He’s going to try and lure information out of me.
“I’ll take that as a compliment—it means I’m doing my job right,” he says, sounding pleased with himself. “Are you ready to talk to me?”
“Like I told you the other night when you blindsided me in my hospital room, I don’t want to talk to you.”
“It would be in your best interests, Brooke. Lev Zarkov is a dangerous man.”
“What part of I don’t want to talk to you do you not understand?” I say.
“I’m offering you a lifeline, Brooke.”
I turn to look at him. “It’s Miss Masters to you.”
He smirks. He sees me as a challenge, and I think he likes it.
I turn away, disgusted. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me?”
“I’m not following you. I’m following up on our conversation the other night. Thought you might have had time to reconsider turning me down.”
“Do you really think you and I are going to become allies? That I will help you send Lev away for whatever fictional crimes you think he’s committed?”
“He’s the pakhan of the Zarkov Bratva.”