Ivan (Gideon's Riders Book 3)

by Kit Rocha

  She kissed him back, gliding her tongue over his, as the dizzy aftershocks rippled through her. She was trembling, but so was he--a different kind of tremor, fine and taut, that she could feel every place he was touching her.

  Their swaying rhythm took on new purpose. When she opened her eyes, he was coaxing them toward the edge of the floor--not toward the posh VIP booths that dominated one side of the room, but the smaller, shadowed ones in the opposite corner. “Sit,” he told her softly, nudging her toward a leather bench.

  “Might as well.” She slid into the booth, smoothing her hair as he joined her. “Can’t stand up right now anyway. Wonder why?”

  Something smug sparked in his eyes as he waved down a server and ordered them two beers. They came in chilled glass bottles with condensation on the outsides that made the bright O’Kane labels peel up at the edges. Ivan took a long sip before nudging her knee with his. “Having fun?”

  He wasn’t the only one who could tease. “Maybe a little.”

  He smiled, rare and real and so damn beautiful that it almost hurt to look at. Almost. He smoothed back a few damp strands of her hair that had stuck to the side of her face, and his fingertips traced the outer shell of her ear. “You deserve to have fun. All your life shouldn’t be service to the sector.”

  “It doesn’t feel like I’ve been doing much of that lately.” She sipped her beer and waited, but the anticipated flash of guilt didn’t come. “But maybe you’re right. I needed a break. A break full of wild, naked sex with my bodyguard.”

  His lips quirked, and the dark warmth in his gaze promised the sex would be extra wild tonight. “You needed to see this. What life can be. Maybe you’ll stop being so hard on yourself when you’re not happy and grateful all the time.”

  “A little perspective can be a good thing,” she agreed.

  “Yeah.” He picked up his beer again, and his leg tensed against hers. “There was something I didn’t tell you when we were inside Eden.”

  For a moment, the fear that filled her was all out of proportion to the situation. “Are you all right?”

  “It’s not that, it’s--” He exhaled and gripped the bottle. “Nobody knew that I saved Mad. I don’t think it would have occurred to him to tell anyone. There was so much going on, and your cousin has never liked the fact that we still risk our lives for his.”

  Her first instinctive reaction was anger. She wasn’t a child--she knew that battles could be chaotic, not to mention traumatic. So much so that people sometimes couldn’t remember details, or even forgot entire swaths of time as their minds fought valiantly to protect them from the horrors they’d seen.

  But Mad was supposed to be different. He was a Rider himself. He knew the sacrifices they made for Gideon, for the sector. For the royal family. Their only reward was to have those sacrifices recognized.

  And he hadn’t bothered to do that for Ivan.

  The second the thought formed, she was ashamed of herself. Her cousin had his faults, but he had never been thoughtless. And Ivan had also remained silent. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know.” Ivan kept running his thumb over the label on his bottle like the pattern was of the utmost importance. “I think...it still feels like it shouldn’t count. All my life, I’ve been told to be like my father, and that’s the only thing he did that anyone ever talks about. He took a bullet for Santa Adriana. Anything else feels like cheating.”

  “Ivan--”

  “I told you that the shit you thought you had to put up with wasn’t okay, and you listened to me.” He finally looked at her. “Maybe the shit I’ve always thought I had to put up with wasn’t okay, either. So I listened to you. I told Gideon.”

  She’d been prepared to argue her case, but his sudden confession cut off the words in a knot of tears at the back of her throat. “That couldn’t have been easy. I’m proud of you.”

  “I don’t know if it changes anything. I don’t know what we’re doing, Maricela. Your brother’s going to murder me if he finds out, and not just for the sex.” He drained his beer and waved the empty bottle to take in the room. “I’m sneaking you into the city and out to grungy sector bars. I’m bending my oaths so hard I feel guilty every time your brother looks at me. I keep rationalizing it, but this is out of control. I’m out of control.”

  There was only one thing worse than losing him--hurting him. “Do you want to stop?”

  “No.” He reached for her, sliding his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head. “I’ve said more to you in the last few weeks than I’ve said the rest of my whole damn life. You look at me and see...” His voice roughened. “You see a good man.”

  “The love of my life.” She had to say something glib and light-hearted, because if she didn’t, she’d say something-- “Marry me, Ivan.”

  The wanting in his eyes nearly broke her heart. “If I was anyone else, I would.”

  “You’re not anyone else. You’re you, and I need you.” She pulled his hands free of her hair and held them between hers. “You have shown me what life can be, but it doesn’t have anything to do with this bar or sneaking off into the city. It’s us, together.”

  He groaned and closed his eyes, letting his forehead drop to hers. “I’m out of control,” he whispered roughly. “I know it’s impossible. But when you touch me, nothing else matters.”

  Because they were inevitable. She understood now that it never could have been any other way. Even if Gideon had never assigned him to guard her, even if they’d never been in the same room alone, not even once, part of her would have belonged to Ivan. The same part that had drawn her to him at the training day ceremony, when she’d clumsily asked him to be her date for the summer festival.

  It already seemed like a lifetime ago.

  She brushed her lips over his. “Think about it?”

  His kiss was deeper, more desperate, and she couldn’t tell if it was a promise or the start of a goodbye. But they were both breathless when the kiss ended. “Anything for my princess.”

  She had to touch him, a literal physical need that raked at her, so she laid her hand on his chest, right over his thudding heart. “Anything?”

  “Anything,” he growled.

  “Then it’s your turn to feel me.” Her options stretched out before her like a carnal tapestry--a slow handjob under the table, a faster blowjob in the car or a nearby alley. Finally, she settled on rising from the booth and heading for the darkened back hallway.

  She made it to the bathroom door before he reached for her, his hands sliding over her hips and his breath stirring her hair. “Is this what you want?”

  Maricela turned in his arms, reached back to open the door, and stepped back into the dark room.

  He followed her. He prowled after her. Intent, focused. He was made of scarcely contained energy and heat. Her heart was beating so loudly, the blood pounding in her ears, that she barely heard the door shut and lock.

  The only light spilled in through a tiny window near the ceiling, a distant streetlight shining through the reinforced glass. It was enough to find him in the shadows, but that was it.

  He locked his hands around her waist and hoisted her up on the edge of the counter, where his hips forced her thighs wide. “You want me to feel you?”

  She dragged her nails over the back of his neck. “It’s only fair.”

  He hooked one finger under the neckline of her dress and tugged it down, revealing the swell of her breast. “I like this. Not as much fabric in the way as your usual dresses.”

  “No. I borrowed it from--” her breath cut off as his open mouth brushed the skin he’d just revealed, “--Grace.”

  His tongue followed the edge of her dress, teasing her skin. Soft, gentle--until he jerked the fabric down. The thin strap slipped from her shoulder, leaving her exposed to the cool air, but only for a moment. Then his mouth was there, hot and intense.

  He sucked her nipple between his lips, and she gripped his head, pulling him closer. As the
rest of her body started clenching in time with the rhythmic suction, he lifted his head and switched to her other breast. Maricela arched against him, nearly slipping off the counter in her eagerness to get closer. More.

  Just when she felt like she had a handle on the pulsing pleasure, he gave her a hint of teeth. The soft nip dragged a hoarse cry from her throat, and he pulled back and braced his hands on the wall on either side of her head. His strong arms formed a cage, and he leaned in until her whole world seemed to be made up of him.

  “Open my pants,” he ordered softly, then kissed her.

  He didn’t relinquish her mouth, so she did it by touch. They moved in harmony--his tongue tracing her lower lip as she unbuckled his belt, then driving deep as she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. When she freed his cock and wrapped her fingers around its stiff length, he moaned into her mouth and thrust into her hand.

  She rubbed her thumb over the slick head of his cock and tore her mouth from his. “Help me, Ivan.”

  “Always.” He slid his hands under the short skirt of her dress, hot and impatient, grasping at her underwear as she lifted her hips for him. In moments, he was skimming them down her legs. They slipped past her feet and disappeared into the darkness, and Ivan dragged her ass to the edge of the counter as her skirt hiked up.

  Her hands skidded on the tile when he thrust into her, but she caught herself with a moan.

  The doorknob rattled, followed by a hollow pounding on its dented metal surface.

  “Fuck off,” Ivan growled, his voice menacing enough to stop the pounding immediately.

  And low enough to curl Maricela’s toes in her heeled sandals. She reached back, bracing one hand on the edge of the sink, and arched against him. One of his hands hit the wall beside her, and the other gripped her hip.

  And then he fucked her. There was no other word for it. He drove into her with a groan and pulled back with a hiss, moving slowly until she met his thrusts. Then fast, each thrust so forceful it would have driven her back against the wall if she hadn’t been ready for him.

  Ready and eager. She wrapped her free arm around his neck, her legs around his hips. Her spike heels dug in to the backs of his thighs, but he barely seemed to notice. He was so intent, as lost in her as she was in him.

  “Yes.” Another snap of his hips, and he dropped his forehead to hers, their panting breaths mingling. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

  Impossible but inevitable. She felt the words in her bones, as deeply as she felt him, and nothing--not a desire to hang on to her control or make this last forever or even another angry patron breaking down the door--could have stopped her from coming.

  Pleasure shook through her, exploding and imploding at the same time. Ivan didn’t falter as he rode her orgasm straight into a second one. She didn’t have the breath to scream, just to beg him in harsh, quick whispers--harder, more.

  Yes.

  “Tell me,” he groaned, sinking his hand into her hair to drag her head back. He forced her to stare up into his eyes, and the longing there was endless, so vast it threatened to swallow everything else. “Tell me.”

  Only one thing mattered right now. Only one truth existed. “I love you.”

  He made a tortured noise and kissed her. Deep, desperate, his tongue driving between her lips in the basest of claims even as the pace of his thrusts quickened. She felt the moment before he came in the tensing of his muscles, the trembling of his body.

  And she held him as he spilled into her with a helpless moan that sounded like surrender.

  She listened to his heart, pounding in the darkness, and stroked his back until the galloping rhythm began to slow. Promises hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she kept them to herself. He needed time, space. No one with a lick of sense ever backed a Rider into a corner and expected it to go well.

  As his breathing steadied, his hands began to move. He guided her dress back into place and smoothed the neckline above her breasts. Tenderly, he brushed her hair back from her face and dropped a kiss to the side of her neck. Her jaw. Her temple.

  “You make me lose control,” he murmured against her skin. “I never knew how much I needed that.”

  Everyone did. Ivan had taught her that. His rigid control was mostly internal and self-directed, while her pressure came from a hundred different places and directions--her siblings, her followers, even her friends. Her life. The life of a Rios princess.

  “I’m glad you can escape with me,” she whispered. “At least for a little while.”

  “I’m glad we can escape together.”

  Someday, somehow, they’d build a life full of things they’d chosen for themselves. They’d face every day together, secure in the strength afforded by their mutual support and comfort, and they wouldn’t have to escape at all.

  Maricela had to believe that.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The first thing Ivan smelled when he walked into the barracks was donuts.

  “Hey, stranger.” Zeke was straddling a chair backwards, a tablet on the table in front of him. A 3D holographic image hovered over it, something that looked like words too small for Ivan to read. Zeke swiped his fingers in the air and made them scroll, and Ivan suppressed a shiver.

  That shit was not getting any less creepy.

  Hunter nodded from the other end of the table. “Day off?”

  “Afternoon. Maricela’s having lunch with Isabela.” Ivan usually avoided Zeke’s donuts, but he dropped to a bench and reached for one. They were still the tiniest bit warm, with a sugar dusting that spilled all over the table when he broke off a piece.

  It was worth it when he popped it into his mouth, though. Sweetness filled his senses as the pastry melted on his tongue, and there weren’t enough saints in all of Sector One to pray to for deliverance from the trouble he’d gotten himself into.

  Food tasted better. Sunlight felt warmer. The birds singing made him happy. Just knowing that Kora was running her tests and would be there to help him navigate the results felt like kicking free of a hundred pounds of misery.

  And Maricela loved him. She’d snuggled up against him in that dirty Sector Three bar, ground her way to a shuddering orgasm on his thigh, and then she’d stared up at him with her dreamy, sweet brown eyes and asked him to marry her.

  The princess and her loyal bodyguard. Impossible. Forbidden. A trite fairy tale whose brutal tragedy had already played out once in Sector One. And Carter Maddox hadn’t even broken any vows when he married Adriana Rios. Ivan would probably be breaking all of his.

  He’d almost told her yes anyway.

  Across the room, Reyes snorted and rolled his eyes. “What are you so jolly about? Half the sector thinks you murdered someone in cold blood. It’s not your best week ever, Ivan.”

  “Reyes.” Ana chucked the book she was reading at him, hitting him solidly in the chest. “Could you not be an asshole for five minutes?”

  “Mmm, no. Wait--” He tilted his head back and pursed his lips, as if in thought. “Yeah, no.”

  She stood and retrieved her book before thwacking him on the arm with it again for good measure. Then she slid onto the bench next to Ivan. “Ignore him. We know you didn’t murder anyone.”

  “Not yet.” Ivan shot Reyes his best brooding scowl. He didn’t usually have to try for the expression, but the whole world felt surreal right now. Bright. Loud. Real, like he’d never quite been a part of it before.

  Reyes laughed out loud.

  For the first time, Lucio looked up from the topographic map spread out in front of him. “That was a joke,” he said to no one in particular before turning to Zeke. “Ivan made a feeble attempt at humor.”

  From anyone else, it would have sounded like an insult. From Lucio, it was a simple observation of the truth. It had been a feeble attempt at humor. Ivan had never spent a lot of time trying to be funny, because being funny wouldn’t earn his sainthood and redeem his family name.

  But being funny could make Maricela laugh, and that made it worth pr
acticing. “Everyone has to start somewhere.”

  “Uh-huh.” Zeke reached through the hovering display to snag a donut and waved it in the air. “So how long are we gonna keep doing this? Just give me a ballpark.”

  Hunter grunted. “Do what, watch you stuff your face?”

  “No,” Zeke drawled out the word. “Sit here and pretend we don’t know that Ivan has been full-contact naked bodyguarding Maricela all over the sectors.”

  Ivan froze with the donut halfway to his mouth, his cheerful mood evaporating.

  Ana dropped her head to the table with a groan.

  Reyes stood and walked across the room to rack his barbells. “I would like to point out, just for the record, that at least I wasn’t a big enough asshole to say that.” He paused. “Even though I knew about it before any of you other motherfuckers.”

  Ivan snapped his mouth shut. Opened it again.

  He had no fucking idea what to say.

  “Zeke.” Ana lifted her head. “I’m going to murder you.”

  “What?” he protested. “I’m sorry, but we’re all a bunch of badass warriors trained in observation. Surely he didn’t think no one would notice. I mean, you didn’t, right?”

  Ivan gritted his teeth against the damning truth--he hadn’t really been thinking about it much at all.

  “It’s not like everyone knows,” Hunter volunteered. “Just us. And Laurel. And Ashwin and Kora.” He turned to Ana. “Did Bishop figure it out?”

  “Bishop said Ivan was too smart to go there.” As soon as the words were out, she winced and glanced at Ivan. “Obviously, he was wrong. Not that you’re stupid, just--oh fuck, you know what I mean.”

  Ivan did. If Ana was the closest thing Ivan had to a sister, Bishop had always been the closest thing he had to a mirror. Bishop didn’t have the fucked-up childhood or the traitorous family, but he’d been born with an inner darkness, and he’d long since grown comfortable with the idea that his darkness destined him for solitude.