by Kresley Cole
"So you know about his crush?"
She nodded. "He thinks it'll be weird."
"Weirder than a congressman acting like his wife died in a fiery car crash so he can get a piece of ass?" When I downshifted for a stop sign, the engine purred. Giving up this car would've been impossible for anything or anyone outside of my pack.
"Benji also thinks I'm still in love with you-know-who."
"Are you?" I asked, though I knew the answer. Karin was lost for Walker.
She gazed away. "That would be idiotic, wouldn't it? He made his feelings clear."
The man had a ready-made family but was too stupid to see it. And if Karin and Benji ever did get together, it'd be too late for the asshole. "Are you holding back with Benji because of his history?"
He'd been sexually abused out on the streets. When I was young and didn't know better, I had asked him distressing questions like, "Why are you scared to go outside at night?" and "Why do you cry when it's bath time?" I often wished I could go back and spare him that extra pain.
"He's worked through a lot of it," Karin said. "But, yeah, getting with his adoptive sister might spin some things off axis."
He'd always called me sis, but never Karin. I don't think he'd ever bonded with her that way.
She frowned at me. "Enough about that. There's more you're not telling me."
I could never fool her. "Say I do have a . . . fetish." Which I would be looking up online as soon as I was by myself. "It was Dmitri who got me so worked up. Maybe having other peoples' eyes on me was the seasoning, but the main course was all him. He's really dominant. I did those things because he told me to."
"He sounds like a thrall."
I slapped the gear shift. "Bingo. Everything about him--his voice, face, body, scent, intensity--makes me lose my ever-loving mind. In the same situation with another guy, I wouldn't have reacted as I did. I felt completely out of control."
"I understand why that would be so scary. Especially for your first time."
I exhaled. "I trusted him to take care of me when I was drunk, and instead he pushed me to do things I wouldn't ordinarily do."
"Maybe he sensed your fetish. What if he was trying to please you?"
He'd told me, I need to give you pleasure so much I ache. I cleared my throat. "Then I would say I might have possibly overreacted and blamed him unfairly." The look in his eyes . . . I'd hurt him. That damn sense of protectiveness rose up yet again.
"What if you ended up with him outside of a con?"
Of all the women he could have, Sevastyan was pursuing me. At least for now. "He lives on a different continent. And we have nothing in common." I refused to believe I could fall for Sevastyan, with his sinful voice and talented fingers. With his lifeline glances, the ones that both lured me closer and scared the hell out of me. "Plus, I could never trust him. I don't think another man will ever convince me I'd be enough for him. It's like in the movies, when the lead guy makes a grand gesture, sacrificing everything to prove his love. Stupid, huh?"
"Not stupid at all," Karin said.
"Catching Brett made me doubt myself in a way I never did before." Wasn't I desirable enough for him? Wasn't I enough woman? "Besides, if I were ever going to settle down, it'd be with another grifter. Which means a tech billionaire is out of the running."
"You must've considered a Peggy Sue by this point." A wedding con. "I'm sure we all did after that call."
The thought had tickled at the back of my mind, but I'd mentally scratched it away. "Dmitri's way too clever. He'd lawyer up with a prenup so ironclad it'd clang when it hit a desk. Plus he's got those two bodyguards."
"Hate bodyguards. Still, it's Vegas, baby. Make him crazy for an hour, and you could seal the deal."
"Crazy, huh?" He's got that covered all on his own.
"I could run a badger on him." That multi-purpose con could be used for more than just blackmail. "I'd mick him, and you'd find us 'together.' You'd scream and cry, telling him there's only one way you could ever trust him again: the bonds of holy matrimony. Give him the ultimatum, and he'd be toast."
I could cry on cue, but the idea of Karin even "fake" getting together with him made my fingers clench the steering wheel. "I'll stick with the milk-cow."
"Then wear the man-eater."
I'd cut that sleeveless gown from scarlet body-hugging silk. The overall look was simple yet sultry. Illusion straps and a plunging neckline bared plenty of skin in the front, while the back cutout dipped almost to my ass. The hourglass silhouette gave way to a thigh-high slit.
When a woman wore a dress like that, it told men: I'm getting laid tonight. And when I do, some lucky bastard's balls will scream for mercy. "You don't think it's too soon?"
"No, but he's going to be all over you."
At the idea, my body purred like the Porsche's engine.
Whatever she saw in my expression made her lips thin. "You cannot sleep with him, Vice."
"Listen to me." I met her gaze as we made the Strip. "There's no way in hell I'm going to sleep with the Russian."
CHAPTER 14
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Okay, I might sleep with the Russian.
When I opened the door for him, lyrics from the incomparable Madonna sprang into my thoughts:
I'm in trouble deep.
He was just so . . . so unimaginably beautiful. His tailored dark gray suit emphasized his height, the wide set of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips. His understated tie had a thread of amber through it, highlighting his eyes. My fingers itched to touch his clean-shaven jaw and chin.
He stared at me as if he'd forgotten how to blink. I guessed he liked the man-eater.
Pete had already called to tell me when Dmitri left the casino and what my date was wearing (my cuz had warned me Dmitri looked "excruciatingly hot"). Thanks to intel from Giovanni, the concierge, I also knew our destination: Murano's, a romantic--and extravagant--Italian restaurant.
"Am I dressed appropriately?" I asked as I turned in a circle. "You didn't say where you were taking me."
Dmitri's gaze drifted down, then slowly ascended, as if he were committing every inch of me to memory. His answer was a curt nod.
Not a word about my appearance? I'd painstakingly braided my hair into three plaits, then pinned them into a crown atop my head. My makeup was expertly applied--kohled eyes, curled lashes, glossy lips, vamp nails. My only jewelry was a pair of onyx earrings. I carried a matching clutch for my keys, phone, and gloss.
When I'd donned the man-eater and the clinging material had glided over me, my nipples had stiffened; the dress had done nothing to disguise them. Now his inspection was making them peak again. By the time his gaze reached my face, my cheeks were on fire. I waved in his direction. "Uh, you look great."
Another nod.
Wow, cocky much?
"Come." He placed his big palm on the bared small of my back. His nostrils flared and his fingertips dug in a little as he led me toward his limo.
I got a hit of Dmitri's aftershave and caught my customary buzz, my lids growing heavy.
When we passed my new car, I said, "Thank you for the gift." Al already had a buyer interested.
Dmitri scarcely acknowledged it. "I have another one for you."
Oh, do you?
One of his bodyguards, the brown-haired one, opened the door for us. A blond was behind the wheel. I dubbed them Starsky and Hutch (not quite eighties, but close enough). Starsky shut the door behind us and got in with Hutch up front. With a low hum, the privacy divider closed.
Dmitri didn't sit close to me. Weird. As we started off, he didn't reach for me and drag me into his lap.
I'd thought my bared thigh would merit a glance, but he seemed determined not to look down. Puzzled, I fidgeted with my clutch and stared out the window. . . .
I frowned when we passed a white Yukon like the one Brett drove. I only got a glimpse of the driver but suspect
ed it was my ex. No matter how many times I'd told him our relationship was over, he continued to cruise my neighborhood. How could I get him to stop with the e-mails and drive-bys and move on?
I didn't need to be thinking about Brett; I needed to be working. I sank back in the seat, watching Sevastyan out of the corner of my eye.
His shoulders were rigid. When he subtly blew out a breath, as if trying to get a handle on himself, I relaxed a fraction. Had I thrown him for a loop?
With more confidence, I asked, "So what do your bodyguards do when you're on dates?"
"Dates? I have no idea what they do when I'm not around."
"Any particular reason you travel with a pair of them?"
He shrugged. "They buffer me from irritations."
"With their holstered weapons?" I'd spied a flash of one.
No denial. "Better safe than sorry."
"An enigmatic answer from an enigmatic guy." I turned to face him more fully. "Before we get to the restaurant, I want to talk about last night. I had a chat with my sister, and it helped me realize some things."
"Like what?"
Two tears in a bucket . . . "Apparently, I have a . . . fetish. This is going to be hard to believe, but I didn't know I'm not, um, vanilla. I got spooked by the intensity and the situation, and I overreacted, blaming everything on you."
"I do believe you. You were shocked afterward. I should have taken things more slowly." He rubbed his palm along his pant leg. "I am learning my way. With you. I see now I should not have pushed when you'd been drinking."
"Well, yeah, maybe. I wasn't just shocked, I was also nervous. A woman could get hurt doing things like that."
He tensed even more. "I would never let anyone hurt you. You think I couldn't have defended you against a mere two men?"
"How do I know that, Dmitri? I don't even know you. This is our first real date."
He exhaled. "Point taken. Thank you for explaining these things to me. Please continue to do so in the future."
"I feel better with that off my chest."
"After speaking to your sister, did you investigate your newfound fetish?"
"I did a little digging online." I'd discovered a porn subgenre called CMNF--clothed male, nude female--and watched a video of a naked girl on her knees sucking off a fully dressed guy.
My greedy gaze roamed over Dmitri's impeccable suit. "It was . . . enlightening."
Two nights ago, Dmitri had stripped me while remaining dressed, had even remarked I might like that. Already sensing my leanings?
Thinking of that first night reminded me--had he really jerked off on this very seat?
I would run a con just to see that.
"I suggest we establish a safe word," Dmitri said.
"Isn't that for whips and chains?" Though I might like to recreate what I'd watched today, I wasn't down with bondage.
"If we'd had a safe word, you could have alerted me I was pushing you too far."
Would I have forfeited that explosive orgasm at the time? For now, I'd humor him. Searching for a word, I scanned the luxe limo interior. My attention settled on the fancy bar. "I'll say cognac."
"Very good. I will stop immediately."
I was accustomed to code words. Blue skies for cops. As in, "Nothing but blue skies around here." Juke for change location. Cougar for currently on a grift. Rep for lookout.
Teotwawki--the end of the world as we know it--was my family's code for an emergency meeting. Three months ago, my dad had texted that to our group line. Karin, Benji, and I had been at a photography exhibit, our phones chiming all at once. Without a word, Benji had sprinted ahead to get the car as Karin and I ditched our heels to run. We'd hauled ass to Mom and Dad's.
The cartel had just lowered the boom on us.
"What are you thinking about?" Dmitri asked.
What I am. What's at stake. I met his gaze. Time to flirt. "Last night. I haven't been able to think of much else."
"Nor I."
"Those things you did with your fingers were mind blowing. How'd you learn stuff like that?"
"Videos and books," he said. "I studied the subject of sex as if it were my field. I made it my job."
"Why?" I asked, imagining him watching porn and masturbating. Five minutes into this date and my thong was damp.
"So I could impress a woman such as yourself." His words could've been teasing, but he was serious. "And make her addicted to me."
"Consider me impressed." Understatement of the year. "When did you figure out you like to show off your dates that way?"
"You think I . . ." His eyes narrowed. "I do not like to show you off." In an accusing tone, he snapped, "I want to take you back to my room right now! I want no one else to see you like this. I both love and hate that dress." He didn't seem to realize he'd gripped the hem, was letting the scarlet silk flow through his fingers.
My lips curled. Crazy man. "Is that your way of telling me I look nice?"
"Nice?? You took my breath away. I haven't regained it yet." He muttered something in Russian, but I recognized the tone: Fuck me. He blinked down at his hand and released the dress. "Last night, your appearance strained the bounds of my control. But this . . ."
My breaths shallowed, my boobs rising and falling under his brows-drawn gaze.
"I told you I am a jealous man. I'd prefer no one to see you but me."
"Then why'd you show me off at the club?"
He met my eyes. "My fetish is making you wanton and mindless."
Then last night had been for me. "How did you know about my fetish before I did?"
Voice gone husky, he said, "Your reactions the first night."
I blushed to recall grinding his hand.
He clenched his fists. Recalling that as well?
I noticed jagged cuts across his right knuckles. Before I could ask what happened, he said, "All I can think about is seeing you come again, and you wear this? You must enjoy tormenting me. I asked you for mercy, but you've given me none."
"I wore the dress because I like the way it makes me feel."
He rasped, "Irresistible?"
God, this man got me hot. Maybe I liked playing with fire. "And yet . . . you're resisting."
He lowered his face while gazing up, his spine-tingling expression giving me goosebumps. He looked as if he was barely stopping himself from snatching me close. "You told me on the phone you didn't want to have sex with me."
But . . . but that was before I saw you in a suit. Inner shake. "You're right. If I do, you're going to get the wrong impression of me. I'll feel pressure, and I hate pressure." This was true.
"Then I will make you a promise right now. I vow I will never seduce you to have sex until we have both agreed to take that step."
I shook my head. "Not enough. I'll get too caught up with you, begging in the heat of the moment. When you showed up at my door tonight, my very first thought was that I wanted you to fuck me."
"Victoria . . ." His roughened voice made heat cascade through me. Seeming to steel himself, he said, "I vow I will never sleep with you until we've both agreed to take that step--agreed outside of a sexual situation."
"What does that mean exactly?"
"It means we will sit down and discuss taking this"--he motioned between us--"further. It means you can enjoy time with me without feeling pressure."
He'd just given me all the tools I needed to milk-cow him.
I nibbled my lip, as if I were undecided. Of course I was going to play his games. Because I was working. What I wanted didn't necessarily factor.
Keep telling yourself that, Vice. "Okay. We've got a deal."
"One that will likely be the death of me." With a pained groan, he adjusted his cock in his pants.
I inhaled sharply, wishing he would keep touching himself . . . like he had two nights ago in this limo. I imagined him rubbing his big pierced dick, filling his palm with cum--
The limo glided to a stop in front of the restaurant.
Dmitri said, "Are you
ready, moy angel?"
As if waking from a spell, I nodded dumbly.
Starsky hurried around to open the door. When Dmitri helped me from the car, my nipples were straining against the thin silk.
The valet stared at my tits; the doorman stared. Each time someone noticed my swollen breasts and the lewdly jutting peaks, a forbidden thrill shivered through me.
Dmitri kept his warm hand on my lower back, his stance proprietary. I glanced up at him. His gaze was locked on me, as if he was making an effort to block out the others' attention.
He'd been telling the truth. Dmitri Sevastyan was a jealous man--who was unfortunately fascinated by his date's reaction to exhibitionism.
Later, I would let him know he was the one making me wet. His cock adjustment--and my brief fantasy about him--had primed me just as much as showing off my breasts.
He leaned down to murmur at my ear, "I'm going to feed your body, Vika, then later you're going to be my dessert."
A breath shuddered out of my lungs.
Trouble, Vice. Deep.
CHAPTER 15
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I could get used to this.
A warm breeze blew into our cabana, flickering the table's candle. The flame reflected in Dmitri's eyes, his irises looking like backlit amber.
I dragged my gaze from his heart-stopping face to survey the picturesque scene. The outdoor seating surrounded an elegant pool, and each table had a private cabana.
I'd always wanted to eat here, but the prices were exorbitant. Murano's sourced seafood from all over Italy and flew it in daily.
When the tuxedoed waiter, a ginger-haired fortysomething, had taken our orders a few minutes ago, I'd marveled at the menu, choosing the Mediterranean blue rock lobster. Dmitri had selected Venetian crab ravioli with artichokes.
I turned back to him. "You're staring."
"You're stunning."
Each time I caught him checking me out, my cheeks heated. To relax, I'd been drinking again, sip after sip of the delectable wine he'd picked out. Plus I was nervous about his promise to make me his dessert. Did he plan to go down on me?
When he lifted his own wineglass for a sparing taste, my gaze fell on his banged-up knuckles. "What happened there?"
