Hers to Tame

by Rhenna Morgan

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and toyed with his hair where it touched the nape of his neck. “Tell me about them.”

  “Nyet. Not tonight.” A softly spoken refusal, but unbending all the same. He skimmed his mouth against hers. “My woman has had enough words and revelations for one day.” His tongue teased the seam of her lips as he rolled his hips against hers. “I think she’s earned my undivided attention and devotion.”

  A simple change in focus.

  The mere hint of a kiss paired with the wicked promise in his eyes, and she was ready. Willing and eager to set everything aside save the erotic haven he offered. She traced the waistband of his briefs. “Well, then we’d better get rid of these.”

  His smile deepened, a bit of playfulness mingling with the devilish glint in his eyes. “As you wish, milaya.” He rolled to his back and shed himself of his briefs, but rather than slide back between her legs, he pulled her across him.

  “Whoa!” She straddled his hips and braced her hands on his chest. “What happened to getting undivided attention and devotion?”

  He chuckled, but the sound was that of a deeply satisfied male. He caressed her hips. Up her sides and inward to tease the lower swells of her breasts. “Oh, believe me, beautiful. With this view, nothing will distract me.”

  Her eyes slipped closed, the delicious warmth and rasp of his fingertips against her hardened nipples making the muscles at her core clench. She tried for a sassy quip, but it came out breathless and distracted. “So, this isn’t just a ploy for me to do all the work?”

  He gently pinched her nipples. Tugged and rolled them in unhurried pulls. “Does it feel like you’re doing the work?”

  Nope. Not even a little bit. If anything, being astride him rather than beneath him was freeing. As liberating as the rest of the night had been. She shook her head and opened her eyes. “No.”

  “Good.” He lifted his hips and pressed his shaft against her clit. “Because I’m going to give you my cock just like this.” He undulated again, the slickness between her folds letting him glide easily against her. “Going to pet and tease you over and over until you beg me to let you come.”

  Was he kidding? She was already ready to beg, her hips eagerly matching the rhythm he’d set.

  She widened her knees, angling for more pressure on her clit.

  Kir shifted his hips before she could. “Nyet.” Before she could protest, the head of him nudged her entrance. “You’re not supposed to do the work, remember?”

  A whimper slipped up her throat, every ounce of her attention focused on the promise of having him inside her. Filling her. Stretching and connecting him to her. She tried to push backward to gain more of him, but he stopped her with hands at her hips.

  She wriggled again. “Stop teasing me.”

  “I’m not teasing you, vozlyublennaya.” He pressed inside her. Infinitesimally slow increments that maddened her even as his leisurely advance sent her need reeling. “I’m loving you. Giving your body what it needs.” Only once he was seated fully inside her, did he begin to truly move. To pump his hips over and over, the cadence slowly escalating with the pace of her heart.

  God, he felt good. Not just the hard length of him shuttling in and out of her, but the commanding feel of his hands at her hips. Each press of his pelvis against hers, and the flex of his muscles as he moved.

  He shifted beneath her, took one nipple his mouth and suckled deep.

  Pleasure shot straight between her legs, each flick of his tongue against the sensitive tip catapulting her higher. Blending with the drag of his cockhead inside her until she couldn’t breathe. Could only feel. Want. Pray for release.

  “Kir.” It was a whisper at best. A plea paired with the press of her hand against the back of his head. “Please.”

  His growl as he switched from one breast to the other was every bit as intoxicating as the rest of him. A reminder of the primal man beneath the refined exterior he showed the rest of the world. He licked her other nipple. “Please what?”

  The question wouldn’t compute. Couldn’t be processed amongst the sensations bombarding her body. The wet heat of his mouth. The slick glide of his cock. The sheer power of his body, and the feel of them joined together.

  He nipped her distended nipple and locked his eyes on hers. “You want to come, yes?”

  Want was too insignificant. She needed to come. Craved it desperately. “Yes. Please.”

  His hand at her hip slid inward and he slicked his thumb through the wetness coating her sex. “I need it, too, malyshka.” He circled her swollen clit, the pressure colliding with the tightening pressure in her belly. “Need to feel your sweet pussy fisting me so I can mark you as mine.”

  Oh, hell.

  It was right there. So close.

  He slid the hand between her shoulder blades upward and fisted the hair at the back of her head. “Come, beautiful.” He pressed his thumb harder and tightened his fist in her hair. “Come and show me you’re mine.”

  Fuck.

  Her sex contracted. Pulsed around his shaft with the same unyielding grip he held on her hair and stole her breath. Made her legs tremble and her heart stutter.

  His hips slammed against hers—once, twice, three times—and his cock jerked inside her. Sent a fresh new rippling wave of aftershocks powering through her even as his grip on her hair eased.

  He cupped the back of her neck. Stroked the curve of her hip and slowly pumped his shaft inside her, guiding them both through the cresting sensations and down from the peak.

  Bit by bit, his muscles eased, and her breath steadied. A string of words murmured in Russian fell from his lips, and he pulled her flush against him.

  She was more than content to comply, the lethargy from her release quickly sinking into her muscles and dissipating what stress lingered from the day. She sighed and settled her head atop his chest. “What did that mean?”

  The comforting stroke of his hand up and down her spine faltered for a moment. He palmed the back of her head and wrapped his other arm around her waist. “I said that this is where you belong. With me. With my family.”

  You’re the only person keeping yourself on the sidelines. We’re all here. Waiting. Ready for you to join in.

  We can choose happiness.

  She’d already taken the biggest step. Had not only found her truth, but had shared it with Kir. Could she let all of her fears go? Release the self-judgment and simply enjoy the gift she’d been given?

  She focused on the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. Let her eyes slip closed and went with the moment. “I’m done fighting it. This is where I want to be.” She lifted her head and met his eyes. “Especially with you.”

  His smile was instant, soft and understanding even as it seemed to hold a thread of satisfaction. He cupped the back of her head and lifted his own to press a tender kiss to her lips. “That’s good, milaya.” He guided her head back to his chest and wrapped her up tight. “Because I have no intention of letting you get away.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Good things definitely came in odd packages. If someone had told Cassie a year ago that she’d not only find an attractive, successful and attentive boyfriend, but a supportive and happy family to boot by means of a murder, she’d have outright laughed in their face.

  But that was exactly what life had handed her. Granted, her attentive boyfriend often strayed into possessive territory, but after having been mostly ignored her whole life, sometimes his overbearing side was an exquisite comfort. And when she felt the need to push back and gain some room, he usually acquiesced.

  Usually.

  Except when it came to her safety.

  She stared out the back window of the Mercedes, her stupid grin in the reflection blending with the Sunday midmorning sun as it glinted off the buildings lining I-10. The last few days had been perfect. The f
estival outing on Friday full of laughter, noise, junk food and a little silliness. The Saturday night dinner with his family relaxed, and the surprise trip to the opera Kir took her on afterward an utter delight. Who knew a badass mobster would have a thing for opera? Or that she’d actually enjoy it?

  Sam exited the highway and navigated the near-empty streets.

  That was another funny thing. Usually, she’d catch herself holding her breath and clenching her hands around the steering wheel on the drive in to work. A focus and a tension that made her think of nothing else but gaining ground in her career. Not what the weather was like. Not what was going on around her—unless, of course, it was newsworthy. Definitely not what she’d be doing when she got home.

  But the last three days? Zero tension. Nada. Sure, in the back of her mind she was thinking of new angles or stories she might pursue, but mostly she’d just handled whatever assignments were given to her and taken things moment to moment. And through it all, she’d texted with Kir and Evette and looked forward to what was lined up after she clocked off for the night. Talk about your novel developments.

  The Mercedes glided to a stop in front of the station, pulling her from her happy thoughts.

  “Same time tonight, Miss McClintock?” Sam said as Patrick alighted from the front passenger seat and opened her door.

  “You’re really not gonna drop the Miss McClintock thing are you?” she said.

  Sam chuckled. “If Mr. Vasilek was your boss, would you?”

  “Good point.” She took the hand Patrick offered, slid out of the back seat and ducked down for eye contact with Sam. “And yes, I should be out around 10:45 tonight. If I need to leave the building, I’ll let you know.”

  “Hey, girl,” Bonnie said the second Cassie hit the lobby, but her googly eyes were all for watching Patrick still waiting by the car to ensure Cassie made it in safely. “You ever going to tell me who those two lookers are?”

  “Just some guys my new boyfriend hired to pick me up and drop me off at work. He’s got a protective streak and thinks me being a television reporter makes me a target for crazy people.”

  Not a huge stretch from the truth, considering you had to be crazy to take someone’s life in cold blood.

  “A protective streak and loaded,” Bonnie said. She grinned at Cassie and added, “Any chance the new boyfriend is the hot dude in the suit you went to El Torro with a few weeks back?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Does he have any brothers?”

  Oh, now that was an intriguing idea. Roman and Bonnie? She and Bonnie weren’t BFFs by any stretch, but Cassie had talked to her enough over the last few weeks to surmise Bonnie could absolutely use her own Cinderella story with a Russian prince. “Actually, he does. But he’s not really the suit type like Kir unless there’s a bona fide reason to wear one. He’s more the T-shirt and jeans fella.”

  “I like T-shirts and jeans.” She waggled the piece of paper pinched between her fingers in the air—an invoice of some kind by the looks of it. “I just don’t like it when they can’t hold down a job, charge up my only credit card and disappear out of nowhere.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes.” She shook her head, sighed and folded the paper up. “Doesn’t matter. He was a loser anyway. Better for me to focus on Pops and get his bills paid off.”

  “Is he doing any better?”

  Her lips curved in a tight smile, but there wasn’t much hope in the gesture. “‘Bout as good as we can hope for unless they find him a donor.”

  “I’m sure they will. You just need to hang in there long enough for it to happen.”

  Bonnie gave her a look that said she’d believe such an eventuality only once she won the lottery. “Funny thing about livers and the people who figure out who’s gonna get ’em. They tend to go to the people who haven’t run the ones they were born with into the ground with drugs and alcohol. My dad thinks a fifth of whiskey falls under good hydration habits and is probably going to die with a cigarette between his fingers. He’s not high on their list.”

  Yep. Bonnie definitely needed a prince. Or at least a steady full-time job with benefits and to only have to take care of herself for a change.

  Before Cassie could come up with something comforting or encouraging to say, Bonnie shifted gears and jerked her head toward the door that led to the newsroom. “By the way, a friendly heads-up. The green-eyed monster is in today.”

  “What?” The code name they’d come up with for Lizbet during one of their talks sent Cassie’s gaze darting for the door. Turns out, Bonnie wasn’t any fonder of her nemesis than Cassie was. “She’s supposed to be off today.”

  “That’s what I thought, too, but she showed about ten minutes before you. A little more out of breath than normal, but all gussied up and ready for action.”

  Well, shit. She and Lizbet hadn’t had any direct run-ins for the last few weeks, but just the thought of her kind of put a damper on Cassie’s good mood.

  Why do you care? It doesn’t have to be a competition. You’ve got zero reason to try and prove yourself.

  Wow. She really was on the happy path of acceptance these days if she could string all those thoughts together. She’d have to text Aunt Frieda ASAP and share the good news.

  She shrugged and headed for the door, enjoying the lightness that came in the wake of her thoughts. “Oh, well. Maybe there’s something unexpected they needed her to cover.”

  “Not your problem, sister. You’re prime time and on the camera today.”

  Exactly.

  Life was good. All she had to do was enjoy it and be grateful. She swiped her badge, pulled the door open and waved to Bonnie. “See you at lunchtime.”

  “Deal.”

  Inside the bullpen where the reporters’ desks were lined up, it was mostly quiet. One of her male colleagues tap-tap-tapped away at his keyboard, the epitome of professional focus. Another one had his chin propped on one hand, his eyes halfway closed. Lizbet’s desk was empty.

  “Hey, Tom,” she said to the first man, then rapped her knuckles on the second one’s desk as she passed. “Long night, Jerry?”

  “Something like that,” he said, barely stirring.

  She unloaded her briefcase, docked her laptop and settled herself behind her desk. The upside to getting in a little early meant she’d have some extra time to give a second look to the André’s security footage, even if she wasn’t very hopeful of finding anything new. The first pass through she’d taken pains to study the woman she’d originally recognized, but nothing had triggered her memory. And, if the woman had actually managed to take a picture of Cassie and Kir with her phone, she had to have done it during one of the many passes the bartender had made in front of her.

  Look. Fast forward. Pause. Rewind. Look again.

  After thirty minutes, she was pretty sure she looked as interested in the images on her screen as Jerry was looking at his.

  Her desk phone rang, a sharp, technical sound that visibly startled everyone in the room.

  The readout showed her editor, Ed, calling from his office.

  Odd. He rarely came in on the weekends unless a big story was brewing, or he’d had a roaring fight with his wife.

  “Sorry,” Cassie murmured to Jerry and Tom, then picked up the phone. “Yes, sir?”

  “Need you to come up.” On the bright side, he sounded distracted more than mad. A plus for whatever he wanted to talk about.

  “Sure, let me grab something to write on. Or do I need to bring my computer?”

  “Just yourself.”

  An uncomfortable, prickling awareness whispered across her shoulders. As if someone had cracked a nonexistent window in the middle of a winter storm. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”

  Through the hall and past the studio, everything and everyone carried on as she’d expect them to, but the sense th
at something was different—off-kilter or happening as an alternate reality—clung to every step. She took the stairs to the second floor where the managers’ offices were located. Just as she opened the stairwell door and stepped out, the elevator down the hall dinged and the doors swooshed open.

  A flash of red registered in her peripheral vision, but the elevator doors slipped shut before she reached them. Her editor’s door snapped open just as she reached it.

  “Hey, Cassie.” He smoothed his hand down the front of his T-shirt the way he would’ve if he’d been wearing a tie. “Come on in and have a seat.”

  “Is something big going on?” She sat in one of the two chairs angled in front of his desk. “I didn’t see any special news being reported when I got ready this morning.”

  “Hmm?” He looked up from the distracted frown he’d aimed at his desk and shook his head. “Oh, no. No special coverage needed. We just...” He looked to the side as though searching for the right words, then refocused on her. “We have a situation we need to deal with.”

  “A situation.”

  “Yes.”

  Not good. Not good at all considering the uncertainty behind Ed’s eyes. He was a good man. Direct. To the point on both praise and criticism. So, if he was stalling and struggling to put words behind what needed to be said, something was seriously wrong.

  She cleared her throat and straightened her spine. “Well, then, maybe the best thing to do is just get it out there.”

  He studied her a moment, his mouth pinched tight. “Right.” He splayed his hands on the desk, focused on them for a good three heartbeats, then lifted his head and pinned his gaze on her. “We received information last night that you’re directly involved with a local mafia organization and that you’ve been leveraging the station’s resources to further their interests.”

  The chill that had chased her every step upstairs settled iceberg hard against her skin, and if she hadn’t been sitting down, the dizziness that hit her would have knocked her over. “I’m sorry...what?”