His hands were on her hips, guiding her, easing her up and down in the rhythm he preferred. She could feel her orgasm building again, could feel it taking her over again, but Mishca wasn’t ready to give it to her just yet.
And they continued this dance, him getting her just to the brink before snatching her back, chuckling softly when she punched his shoulder.
“Izvolit’—Please,” she begged.
That one word and he finally put her out of her pleasurable misery. The moment she tipped over the edge, so did he; his thrusts slowed as he swelled inside of her, moments before he came, growling her name.
Lauren collapsed against his chest, feeling the sweat sticking to the both of them.
“I don’t want to move from this spot,” she murmured, tracing one of the stars on his chest. “I like it here.”
“I like you here.”
“Is this your idea of sucking up? ’Cause if it is, I’m all over it.”
“We could always stay on this boat,” Mishca suggested wryly, his satisfied grin growing. “I can think of a few more things we can do before we need to leave.”
“As tempting as that sounds”—and it really was tempting—“I still want to swim.”
She could tell that he would rather stay in bed with her, but he did honor her wishes, grabbing his own clothes before passing hers to her.
When she eventually followed him back up the deck, she saw they were a good distance away from where they had come from but were closer to the cliffs that she had spied riding into the town. Mishca hadn’t noticed since he’d been the one driving, but on their way in, Lauren had caught sight of a few people around these parts climbing up only to jump back down. Back when she lived in Michigan, Lauren had only once had the guts to jump off a cliff into the lake, but only under the watchful eye of Ross. Now, she was more than excited to try it again.
Once Mishca dropped the anchor, she wasted no time in diving in, smiling at the feel of the water enveloping her. When she came back up, she saw Mishca smiling at her from his position on the boat. She smiled back, but only for a moment before she began swimming for the rocks.
“What are you doing?” he called after her.
She had a choice, obviously. Either keep going or pretend like she hadn’t heard him and keep going, knowing that if she did either, he would get upset. Of course, she picked the latter.
Mishca dived in after her, but it was too late. She was already climbing up to the top, a smile on her face as she went. Once she was finally in a relatively safe spot—after she waited for the waves to recede so she could see better—she gradually got to her feet, clapping at her success.
“I’ll be fine, Mish,” she called back, not bothering to look back at him. Knowing that if she did that, the look he was wearing would force her to climb back down. “This isn’t my first time doing this.”
“Get your ass down!” He was clearly upset, but Lauren tuned him out, almost to the top.
Once she got up there and was steady on her feet, she smiled down at him, waving enthusiastically, even as he glowered.
“That’s the plan.”
Even from her distance, she could see his hands balled into fists, and she didn’t doubt that if he didn’t have a healthy dose of fear of heights, he would have come after her.
But at the moment, while she felt like she was at the very top of the world, the wind whipping her hair around, her arms outstretched, she felt invincible. She stayed there for a while, letting that emotion consume her entirely before she jumped over the edge.
The water came at her fast, and she only had a second to scream before she was underwater. She had sunk for only a short amount of time before she breached the surface again, tossing her hair back and wiping the seawater from her eyes so she could see Mishca better. He was glowering, as she had expected him to be, but he didn’t look that upset.
“How many more times?” he asked sarcastically, probably thinking that once would have been enough.
It wasn’t.
And she made sure he knew that.
“What hurts?”
“Everything.”
Lauren was not above begging him to carry her the short distance from their car to the front door of their rental, but she kept going, always thinking that she was one step closer to a wonderful down bed that she was more than ready to sink into. She had forgotten just how tiring swimming was, especially since she hadn’t done it in a while.
“Come here.”
He swept her up like she weighed next to nothing, and she nearly sighed in relief as the constant agony in her legs vanished. Mishca only set her on her feet long enough for him to unlock and open the door
“There are dozens of reasons why I love you, Mish. This is one of them.”
His lips twitched. “The feeling is mutual. Maybe now you’ll rethink this need to do things like cliff jumping?”
“Not a chance.”
When they hit the bedroom, Lauren would have been more than happy to plop down on the bed and spend hours that way, but Mishca had other plans. He kept a tight hold of her, going through to the bathroom instead.
“Mish—”
“Not yet.”
“But—”
“Pover’te mne—Trust me.”
Not about to argue—especially with the underlying promise she heard in his words—she let him set her down on the counter, watching as he went over to turn on the shower, adjusting the taps until the room was filled with steam. He came back to her, helping her out of her dress then her bikini.
Mishca helped her to her feet, walking them both into the stall—the heat of the water falling from the showerhead above them soothing her aching muscles. On one of the built-in stone benches, she relaxed, observing him, appreciating the view as she cataloged the tattoos that covered him.
The stars on his chest, the epaulettes on his shoulders, the rising sun and line of script on his forearm, and both crosses were familiar to her, ones that represented his life within the Bratva. But there was a relatively new one that was on his opposite arm that was devoid of any connection to the others. It was placed on his inner bicep, in a place easily hidden by the suits he wore daily, but she preferred it that way.
Lauren liked them having something to themselves, apart from the Bratva. More than that, she liked what it represented.
The tattoo was of a pocket watch, his artist adding in hints of gold, the only color that Mishca had in all of his tattoos. The clock was set at twenty minutes before eight o’clock, the exact time at which they met. Of course, he would be the one to remember something as insignificant as that.
One would think that after he had taken the leading role in the Bratva, he would have put on weight, but not Mishca. He was as fit as he’d always been, maybe more so.
The muscles along his back and chest rippled as he washed away the day and she almost pinched herself when he turned to smile back at her, knowing that he was all hers.
Reaching a hand out to her, he pulled her to his side, reaching for the small shampoo bottle that had come with the place. Squeezing some of it into her hair, he carefully massaged it in with the pads of his fingers, drawing them through her hair.
He didn’t stop with her hair; he cleaned all of her, his intentions pretty clear. Unlike the last few times together, he took it easy on her, gradually bringing her to heights she wasn’t used to.
By the time they were out and dried off, she really was exhausted and couldn’t bring herself to move again for the rest of the night after she fell asleep.
Chapter 8
It was amazing how time flew while they were in Sardinia, not that any of that time had gone to waste. They explored the city, shopped, checked out the beaches, and went hiking, taking pictures of everything. At least that part was left up to Lauren.
Tonight was their last night in Sardinia, and they had spent it eating dinner and drinking plenty of the local wine. Instead of driving back to the house immediately, they took a walk, laughing, talki
ng, and reminiscing about the time they spent together. This was going particularly well, until Lauren caught sight of someone walking toward them.
She knew the moment Mishca’s hand flexed at her back that this man, whoever he was, wasn’t just a random tourist. No, he was far too impeccably dressed for that. Not to mention the two men trailing him. For a moment, panic was building inside of her, not knowing what they might do, until three men came out of nowhere and intercepted their path.
The relief she felt flooded her, but so did the anger.
To keep from striking out at him, she gripped her clutch tighter, forcing the smile to stay in place as she extracted her hand from his.
Mishca looked down at her, his expression not giving anything away. “A moment.”
With the slightest of nods, Lauren stepped to the side, going over to stand closer to the water, not far enough that she couldn’t see them, but far enough that she wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. Whatever this was about, she didn’t think she wanted to know. She didn’t think Mishca could have possibly known about this impromptu meeting, though he’d had to have some inclination since he obviously hired security.
The last couple of days had been amazing, had been everything she had wanted. Anonymity. Normality. Lauren couldn’t think of the last time they had spent time together when it had been as innocent as this. No constant phone calls, no secret meetings in the dead of night, and most importantly, none of the constant fear that she would wake up and something would be wrong or someone was dead.
But this was what she had signed up for, not that she regretted that choice.
Foolishly, she had thought he would be able to keep his promise of not bringing his work with them, but instead of focusing on that, she looked down at her left hand, twisting her ring, staring down at the large sapphire in the center with smaller diamonds surrounding it. She knew it had once belonged to his mother, a woman she hadn’t gotten a chance to meet, and she knew the significance of what it stood for to him. But tonight, unlike many other nights, it felt heavy on her finger.
“Ready?”
Lauren spun around, looking up into Mishca’s eyes as he rejoined her by the railing. The apology was clear in his eyes, and it was obvious he was waiting for her to call him on it, but she just wasn’t in the mood.
At least, not yet.
By the time they reached the car, the security had already gone back to their invisible perches. They took the long journey back to the villa, allowing time for her anger to fester.
Mishca had barely killed the engine before Lauren was snapping off her seatbelt, forcing the door open as she climbed out and slammed it behind her. He was right behind her, calling her name. The only thing that made her anger worse was the fact that he had the keys, so instead of just being able to let herself in, she had to wait for him.
“Lauren, I know—”
“Open the door.”
He moved to do what she asked, but he took his time about it
Lauren snatched her hand away. “I’m not mad because they’re here, whoever the hell they are; I’m upset because you should have told me. If I did go somewhere without you, and I think I’m alone, here they are…just, stop trying to protect me all the time, Mish. I’m not your child.”
To keep from doing something—or saying something—she’d regret, Lauren turned her back and headed toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Pulling the rubber band free from her hair, she ran her fingers through it before reaching for a face cloth to wash her makeup off. She could hear Mishca in the bedroom, but she didn’t bother calling out to him. Not that there was anything left to say now.
Because she was upset with him, she sat on the sink counter, taking her time, painstakingly getting every bit of mascara off her lashes and the liner removed from along her eyes. Her shoes came off next, then—instead of calling to Mishca as she normally would—she unzipped her dress, letting it fall around her feet on the floor. Taking a moment to herself, she sat in there for as long as she could, until she could no longer stall.
Hitting the light, she walked out, immediately catching sight of Mishca in bed, an arm thrown over his eyes. The only light in the bedroom was from the lamp on his bedside table, and though his body tensed when she came out, he didn’t say anything to her. Unlike their first night, the doors to the balcony were closed and the curtains were drawn. Pretending not to notice, she walked around the bed, sliding in until she could just feel his presence beside her.
Getting comfortable on her side of the bed, she yanked the covers over her body, facing the opposite wall. Seconds ticked by and Mishca didn’t try to break the silence between them. There was enough moonlight spilling into the room to break through the darkness after Mishca had turned out the light.
For a while, they just lay like that, at least until Mishca shifted. Turning onto his side, he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her to his side. He kept his hand on her stomach, slowing drifting the pads of his fingers from the edge of her bra to her navel and back up again.
Reaching for his hand, she held it still, keeping it pressed flat against her stomach. “Should I be worried?”
He didn’t hesitate in answering. “No.”
She didn’t make him repeat his answer, nor promise that his remark was true, knowing that if it was critical, he would tell her.
But also because she wasn’t sure what his promises were worth anymore.
“If random men are going to be stopping us on the street, I think I should carry a gun,” Lauren said the next morning over coffee.
Mishca didn’t respond immediately, trying to decide how best to do it. She was angry with him, that much he could tell since the moment Gavin approached them last night, though at that time she had seemed more resigned toward the situation than upset. Now, she was either trying to get a rise out of him, was serious, or maybe both, but there was a clear spark in her eyes that promised she was not in a joking mood.
“Klaus took me to a shooting range a few weeks ago to brush up on my skills.”
And probably did it to piss Mishca off, but he didn’t bother mentioning that part.
“And Celt—you remember Celt?—he has this pearl-handled twenty-two that he’s willing to hand over for a price. What do you think?”
She set her mug on the table, blinking over at him, smiling innocently, as though she didn’t know—or did and just didn’t care—that he didn’t like the idea of her spending time with them.
Mishca was dangerously close to shattering the mug in his own hand. “Do you make it a habit to spend time with mercenaries?”
“Only when I’m not with the Russian Bratva. At least I’m not worried about the two of them killing me.”
His cup hit the table so hard, even she gave a little jump. “I thought we were past this.”
“I thought we were past you lying to me. Yet here we are, you withholding information because you think it’s what’s best.”
He shook his head. “You were not in any danger—”
“But how do you know? What more has to happen?”
“Nothing is going to happen to you!” For a second, he regretted raising his voice, but Lauren didn’t shrink away from him, an eerie-like calmness seemed to take her over.
“And what if something happens to you? Mish, you put your life in your men’s hands, but you don’t trust me to have your back. Unless Luka is at your back, I worry. The men who are at your back now, I don’t trust them not to shoot you themselves let alone put you in a situation where someone else will.”
His brow furrowed as he studied her, hearing the genuine fear there. “That’s why you’ve wanted Klaus to agree to work for me by shadowing you…so Luka can stay with me.”
“They’re the only two I trust to keep you alive, and before you say it, if Klaus really wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now.”
“Come to me.”
She didn’t hesitate. Despite his frustration, it drained out of him as he
wrapped his arms around her. “You worry too much.”
“I learned the hard way.”
He couldn’t deny that. She pulled back, just enough so that she was looking down at him.
“You have to stop trying to protect me, Mish, because last night when it was just us, who was going to protect you? I’ve been kidnapped, Mish, and it’s not fun. I want to be able to protect myself in the rare chance that you can’t.”
Though he didn’t want to admit it, she was right about him constantly trying to keep her safe by deciding what was best, even if his choices weren’t always the best thing. Conceding, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
“I’ll set it up.” Another kiss. “And you’re only using it when absolutely necessary. Would you like it in pink?”
Laughing earnestly at the blatant sarcasm in his voice, Lauren said, “I doubt the person on the other end will care what color the gun is when I’m aiming it at them.”
Their last night in Sardinia was slowly coming to an end. Spending another day exploring, Lauren had moved past the anger she’d felt at Mishca that morning, thinking that after everything she had said to him, she had made her point.
She was currently lying on the bed outside, watching as Mishca swam laps in the infinity pool. He moved fluently through the water. Having been in there for the last half hour, she wondered what had been on his mind after he’d taken a mysterious phone call.
By the time he swam over to the edge, hefting himself out as he grabbed the towel that she had placed there for him and wrapping it around his waist, his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he joined her on the bed, kissing her hip as he made himself more comfortable.
“Something on your mind, Mish?”
He was quiet for so long that she really began to worry. Trying to read his expression, she sat up, reaching for him.
“Things are going to get ugly very soon,” he said, though it didn’t really sound like he was talking to her, more like speaking his thoughts aloud.
The City Page 7
