Ruthless Doms Boxset

by Jane Henry

  "I've known you for years and never knew you were in the military," I tell him.

  He smiles. "There are many things you don't know about me." He isn't accusatory, though, but a little sad.

  It's hard to get to know someone who's tight-lipped and nearly silent most of the time. But now that he's opening up to me... if we survive this, I will do everything in my power to be sure to learn everything I can about him.

  We drive for hours and hours, until the sun sets and my stomach rumbles with hunger again. We talk easily, as if this is normal and right. He asks me about the books I read, the music I listen to, what I want to study at college. I don't feel like I need to censor myself at all. He listens eagerly, about college and books and friends and plans, about where I want to travel and what I want to see.

  "And I want that for you, too," he says at one point, squeezing my hand. I squeeze him gently back.

  "We'll get out of this," I tell him. "Then maybe we can travel together."

  "Let's do that," he agrees softly. "Though I don't much care about traveling."

  "No? Don't you want to see things? Visit the wonders of the world? Taste the food of the tropics, or dip your toes in another ocean?"

  He shakes his head. "I've already traveled more than I ever wanted to." He doesn't offer much more than that, and I wonder what it is he's seen and experienced. "The comforts of home are what I want, more than the adventure of other countries. But I understand. When you're young, the appeal of foreign lands holds an appeal like nothing else."

  I snort out loud. "You say I'm young, as if you're an old man."

  He smiles sadly but doesn't reply at first, and then he shakes his head. "Let's focus on what we need to do right now before we plan where we travel to."

  I sober. It's a quiet reminder of the danger we're in, one that I don't miss. But soon, he flicks on his turn signal to get off the highway and follows signs for a swanky hotel.

  "Well this is a step up from last night." I tell him. "We get to stay here?"

  "Just for tonight. Tomorrow, we go to Boston. A place like this offers better security, and privacy can be bought."

  He's thought this through.

  Walking in here without bags is a little different than the last place we stayed, but before we even check in at the desk, he leads me to a gift shop and purchase a pretty little sundress and sandals for me, and a t-shirt and shorts for himself. The dress he picked out for me is a pretty pale pink, one of my favorite colors.

  "It's gorgeous," I breathe. "Thank you."

  He kisses my forehead in response. Aw, hell, I love that. Taking both bags in one hand, he leads me to the main desk, and commands me to be quiet with one stern look. I nod. This afternoon's car chase wasn't something I'll forget anytime soon. I believe him when he says we're in danger, and I trust him enough to follow his lead.

  This is the most danger I've ever been in, and yet my heart feels lighter than I ever remember it feeling before. My heart sings with hope and promise. Nicolai doesn't hate me. He's taken me here to keep me safe. He doesn't hate me.

  And I'm legal now.

  He has a hushed, brief conversation with the man at the front desk, who nods soberly. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Nicolai reaches for my hand and leads me down a private hall to a large elevator. After pushing the button, he waits in silence beside me. Brooding. Alert. Ever watchful. Will he ever truly rest?

  We arrive on our floor and my heartbeat accelerates. We've flirted with what me being legal means, now, and I know what happened last night. How he punished me. And how that made me feel, to be dominated by him. I'm so in my head, I'm not even looking around us when we arrive. Of course, he's doing his usual scan of the place.

  Unlike the place where we stayed the night before, this hotel room is simple but fancy and impeccably clean. I flop down on my back on the enormous, luxurious bed. After hours and hours in the car, this feels amazing. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. It smells so good in here, so clean and fresh, and I want to stay here for days and days.

  But it's only one night. Just one night to really relax and sleep well before we arrive at our new destination tomorrow.

  "Hungry, Marissa?"

  I open my eyes to see Nicolai stripping out of his shirt and walking toward the bathroom. I sit upright, and pull a room service menu over to me.

  "Starving," I tell him. "And honest to God, you should warn a girl," I mutter under my breath.

  "Excuse me?" he says, halfway to the bathroom.

  "Oh, nothing," I say, opening the menu.

  But he's already making his way back toward me.

  "Not nothing. You said something."

  "The cheeseburger with fries looks excellent." I hand him the menu but my distraction plan doesn't work.

  "Out with it."

  He's so damn stubborn.

  "I just said you should warn a girl when you're going to strip like that!" I blurt out. My cheeks immediately heat with embarrassment. "I mean, I—well, you know." I'm stammering like a fool. "Forget it. I didn't mean anything by it."

  He looks down at his bare chest as if he's just realized he took his shirt off. "Warn you," he mutters.

  "Warn me," I croak.

  And when he looks at me, with a rakish grin and one eyebrow perched in curiosity, my heart tumbles in my chest.

  "Marissa," he says. "I'm taking a shower. There, I warned you."

  "Thank you," I barely choke out. "Have a good shower." And then while he showers like a normal person, I sit and berate myself for being such a dumbass. It's a quick shower, and I'm not surprised. He doesn't want to leave me alone.

  "Now your turn," he says, but he's standing there wrapped in a towel, so my feet are tied in knots like pretzels. I stumble, and he reaches for my arm, my skin electrified at his touch.

  "You okay?" he murmurs.

  "Fine," I breathe, mortified.

  "You should warn a guy," he says. I look up at him, and his eyes are twinkling at me.

  "Warn them about what?"

  "That you're going to trip and make them touch you."

  I can't breathe, I can't think, I'm standing here like a dope, not even knowing what to do with myself.

  Twenty-four hours ago, I was a teenaged girl with a crush on her bodyguard, convinced he hated her. I was free, but with restrictions.

  And now? Now, I'm under his protection. And tonight there is no pullout sofa.

  It's shocking how quickly things can change.

  But there's no way anything will happen between us. Not now. Not like this.

  "You're still holding my elbow," I whisper.

  "I am," he agrees, nodding. But he doesn't make a move to let me go. Still holding me, he places one knuckle under my chin and draws my eyes to his. I want to ask him to do something. To kiss me. To let me sit on his lap and make out with him until he lays me on the bed and claims me in the way that I know only Nicolai, only Nicolai, ever could.

  Does he want me that way?

  He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, takes a deep breath and speaks into my ear, his thick accent and deep voice all gravelly and husky-deep and so sexy I'm stifling a moan. God, what he does to me. "Go take your shower. I'll order food." Then he lets me go and takes a step back.

  And that's what we need right then. A step back.

  I blink in surprise, not knowing what to do or how I got here. He looks at me and points toward the bathroom.

  "Shower," he orders.

  "Shower," I breathe.

  I turn and walk toward the bathroom tingling from my head to my toes. I shut the door tentatively, and just like last night, press myself against it and close my eyes. I'm sharing a room with the sexiest man I've ever known, and I come alive at the slightest touch from him. What would it be like if he took it to the next level?

  Or do I need to?

  I'm so much younger than he is. He has a whole lifetime of experiences I don't have...

  But if I'm honest, that only makes me more attracted t
o him than before. I put the shower on, then strip out of my clothes and stand in front of the large, opulent mirror, rimmed with small oval lights. My eyes are bright and wide, my cheeks vivid with color. My hair hangs around me in crazy, unruly waves.

  I trail a hand down to the fullness of my naked breasts, the flat of my stomach, my softly-rounded belly. And lower still. I close my eyes. Imagining Nicolai's hands on my body, touching me like this. I bite my lip and glide my fingers lower still. I stifle a little gasp. I'm slick between my legs, just from being near him, just from the thought of what he could do to me.

  I hold onto the edge of the sink with one hand and work my body harder with the other, my mind playing an endless reel of me with Nicolai. Beneath him, Straddling him. Over his lap.

  The bathroom is filled with billows of steam as I throw my head back and climax, stifling the noise so he doesn't hear. Blissful release washes through me. I'm panting, easing myself back to the present when I hear a sound just on the other side of the door. He’s right there. He heard me.

  I turn to the door and place my palm on the smooth wood, then my forehead. I close my eyes. Now that momentary ecstasy has abated, a sort of emptiness fills me. I don't want to chase my pleasure alone. And I want more. I want him.

  I love you, Nicolai, I think in silent adulation.

  I'd give him anything he wanted.

  I step into the shower. It feels so good to stand under the hot water. I let it run over my head, my face, down my back and body, but it isn't hot enough. I want it scalding, to burn the memory of the man I cannot have from my mind and heart.

  Chapter 7

  Nicolai

  The pounding of the shower can't drown out the sound of her crying. I stand on the other side. I want to break this door down and go to her, join her in the shower and hold her to me. Kiss away her tears and promise her I'll keep her safe, that she doesn't have to cry. Tell her she's been so brave.

  But I don't. I stand on the other side, absorbing the sounds of her tears. It hurts worse than any beating I've ever taken, any fight I've ever lost, any injury I've sustained.

  It fucking kills.

  I'm in the bathroom before I even realize what I'm doing. It's such a big room, she doesn't even realize I'm in here at first. The shower is filled with steam but I can make out her body, leaning up against the tile with her head on her arm.

  Hearing her crying is one thing. Seeing her cry is another.

  And how can I blame her? She's been through so much. So fucking much, the poor girl.

  I should get out of here before she realizes I'm in here. My hand's on the doorknob to leave, when she looks up at me. I freeze, holding her gaze through the fog.

  "Nicolai," she says brokenly.

  Going to her isn't a conscious choice. I can't control this anymore. I walk to her across the tiles and she glides the shower door open. I step into the shower still wearing the towel slung about my waist like that will stop a damn thing. She's stark naked, of course.

  Khristos.

  She's more beautiful than I ever imagined.

  My breath catches in my lungs as I let my gaze wander uninhibited over her body, taking in every fucking majestic curve and slope of her perfect skin. The fullness of her breasts, dotted with dusky pink nipples I long to taste. The slopes of her hips and gently rounded belly, and full, creamy thighs. The towel is useless. I'm so hard, my erection pushes the damn sodden fabric aside, making her bring her hand to her mouth.

  "You shouldn't be in here," she whispers.

  "I heard you crying," I reply, as if that explains everything.

  And then she's in my arms and her head is on my shoulder, blazing hot water pelting us as I hold her to me.

  "Ne plach'," I tell her. Don't cry. "It will be okay."

  But now that I'm holding her, now that she feels safe, she comes undone and sobs against my chest. I let her, absorbing her pain, her fears, her troubles. She needs this release. After a while, she calms.

  "Did you wash, yet?" I ask her.

  She looks up at me and smiles. "What? Why?"

  I give her hair a gentle tug. "Answer me."

  She shakes her head. I nod, take a washcloth from the shelf beside the shower, and lather it up. "Let me," I tell her. I need to keep my hands occupied, so I don't do what I long to. I run the washcloth over her shoulders, her back, over the curve of her gorgeous ass, and between her legs. I swallow hard, aware of the way her breathing is slow and labored. After I've soaped every inch of her, I take the small bottle of shampoo, tip some in my hand, and massage it into her thick, gorgeous hair, then gently tip her head back and rinse it. Her eyes are closed, her face dotted with drops of water, when she whispers, "There's only one thing I want for my birthday."

  "What's that?" I ask, and I realize right then I'd give her fucking anything.

  "Just a kiss."

  Just a kiss, like it’s an innocent request, when we both know it’s fucking dynamite.

  I lean down and gently brush my lips against hers. She moans into my mouth, her arms encircling my neck. I hold her to me, losing myself in that kiss.

  She is no girl but a woman, and the moment my lips meet hers, I know.

  She's mine.

  No man will ever touch her again. This woman belongs to me.

  I hold her to me while we kiss, her tears and the water mingling between us, so sweet, so sexy, so perfect. This kiss is one of exploration, of hope, and longing. Sun rising on a new day filled with promise, a vow that neither of us has had the courage to speak out loud. No matter what happens, no matter what danger lurks around us, Marissa is mine.

  We pull away minutes or hours later, and still it's too soon.

  "Our food will be coming soon," I tell her. She doesn't know I ordered a slice of cake to celebrate her birthday.

  "Good," she says. "I'm starving."

  I smile. She's always starving. I turn the shower off, step out and reach for two towels. After I sling one about my waist, I take her hand and lead her out, then towel dry her off. She holds onto my shoulders while I dry her, then tuck the towel around her.

  My longing for her is near-combustible. I want to lead her to that bed and make love to her, to truly claim her and say to her with my body what I can't say out loud. But I've already taken this too far. I can't let anything threaten her safety. This isn't some lover's getaway, but a mission, and one I will not fail.

  They almost got us once. It cannot happen again.

  We dress, neither of us saying anything. We shared something sacred in that shower. We've broken down a wall that’s kept us apart for years. We've claimed something that lay hidden between us, and now that we've shed dazzling daylight on truth, there is no turning back.

  A knock sounds at the door. I hold up a silent finger to her and walk to the door. Peering through the peep hole, I notice a uniformed member of staff holding a large silver tray.

  "Room service," I tell her, putting the gun back into my waistband.

  I open the door.

  "You ordered food, sir?"

  I nod and gesture for him to come in. But when he does, I feel that something is off. My hand is on my gun before I realize it, my instincts telling me to prepare. I look curiously as he sets the silver tray beside us, but he won't meet my eye. He's wearing a suit jacket, and reaching into the pocket. I'm already prepared to shoot when he removes a bill from his pocket. Fuck, I need to get a grip. "Just sign on the dotted line, and we'll bill your room," he says. I exhale, release my hold on my gun, and start to sign when Marissa screams.

  "Nicolai!"

  He's reached for a knife on the tray. I pull away just in time as he slashes at me. She's screaming, but I've got him on the ground, pinned beneath me.

  "Who the fuck are you?" I ask, my gun at his temple, but Marissa screams again and again and I realize we aren't alone. I look up to see three men dressed in black with their arms on her, and I lose my fucking mind.

  I shoot the man on the ground straight through his forehead,
and don't bother to watch his body contort and writhe before I'm shooting the men that have her. One falls dead, but someone grabs me from behind.

  "Nicolai!" she screams with wide-eyed terror as they drag her from the room. I'm shooting at them, but there are too many, easily a dozen men in black now swarming the entire room. I can't get to her.

  "Nicolai!" Her high-pitched scream of terror knifes my heart as I try to wrestle out of the grip of those that hold me. Something black and thick covers my head. I elbow someone and they howl in pain, but my seconds of freedom quickly end when they pull the hood tight. I can't breathe. I can't get away from them. My limbs are pinned, my vision blackened. There's something on my throat cutting off my air supply. I fall to my knees, contorting and fighting as hard as I can, but I'm only one man against a veritable army.

  Her screams fade. They’re taking her away. I fight harder still, as my world fades to blackness.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 8

  Nicolai

  Three months later

  The key to not rousing suspicion when you have a cover you have to keep is to walk in like you own the place. Like you belong there. And not betray the fact that if your cover is blown you’d be brutally tortured as punishment for being a traitor and murdered before the sun sets.

  It would be worth it.

  It would be fucking worth it.

  And I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  But there are no trials in Bratva life. Guilty until proven innocent. And rarely, fucking rarely, proven innocent.

  I would do it all over again.

  Kidnapped by the men hired by Myron, I was beaten and thrown into the James River. Left for dead.

  But they underestimated what I would do for Marissa. They woefully, woefully underestimated. They have yet to see how far I’ll go. The risks I’ll take. The vengeance I’ll seek.

  My bonds came loose on impact. The fucking pussies didn’t even know how to tie a fucking rope. Though submerged in the depths, and thrown from the bridge above the river, I fought my way back to the surface, removed the sodden black hood that covered my face, and crawled in darkness to a secluded area off the river’s edge.