by Brook Wilder
“I’m asking you questions because I care about your life,” I say, and she rolls her eyes.
“No, you want to know if I’m up to something,” she argues. Something on my face must give me away because her jaw drops, and her arms fall to her sides. “Are you … are you having me watched?”
“What? No, why would I do that?”
“You are,” she yells, then laughs sharply. “You’re really going to stand there and tell me how different you are, and yet you’re doing the exact same things that they did. You’re watching me. Dammit, Danya, you said I could trust you.”
“And you can,” I say even as I think over what else I intend to tell her this weekend about her parents. Shit. I’m just digging myself into an even deeper hole.
“Bullshit.”
I rub my forehead, realizing I’m not going to get out of this fight easily. “Fine, I’m having you followed, but it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Oh? Enlighten me then.”
“I don’t trust my father,” I admit, and she freezes. “I was worried he was going to have one of his guys keep an eye on you because you’re now part of the family. It’s what he does. I have my own eyes on you just in case he crosses a line. Happy?”
Her jaw works back and forth, then she says, “No, I’m not happy. I’m being followed. I’m always being followed. I’ll never have the life I want because of this shithole I was born into. God, is there anything else that I need to know?” she demands.
I shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek as I do it.
Her eyes narrow more, but she seems to buy it. “I want you to have whoever’s following me stop.”
“Not happening.”
“Danya, those classes are the only part of my life I have apart from this,” she says, spreading her arms wide. “It’s the only thing that’s mine. Can you just give me that? Please?”
“You want me to lie?”
She holds up her hands like she wants to strangle me and shouts in aggravation. “I want you to forget about the fucking families for five damn seconds!”
“I can’t.” I try to make her see without words that I’m not doing this to hurt her. I trust her more than I trust my own family, but she’s not being honest with me. She’s playing with fire, and she’s going to get herself killed. Just as I’m considering calling her out for the documentary, knowing that’ll really start a fight, she suddenly lunges at me.
I’m standing close to the edge of the dock. She shoves at my chest and I stagger back, grabbing hold of her in the process. We seem to be stable when she twists in my arms and rams her shoulder into my chest. This time, my back foot meets air, and as I tumble over the dock, I grab hold of Stella and take her with me. We splash into the chilly lake water. It’s only about six feet deep here and I can stand. Stella’s head breaks the surface a second later. She’s spewing curses as she shoves her soggy hair out of her face.
“You bastard,” she snaps, splashing me with more water.
“What did I do? You’re the one that pushed me over.”
“I wasn’t supposed to go with you.” She splashes me again, and I splash her right back. She treads water then starts to swim to go around me. I easily move into her path and wrap her up in my arms. “I hate you right now.”
“I can take it.”
Those green eyes I’ve known for so long study me intently as if looking for something she’s missed. The water laps around us, and then she reaches up and tugs on my beard. Her lips barely brush against mine as my hands fist in the back of her sweater.
“Good,” she whispers, then pushes away. I let her go this time and she makes it to shore, muttering under her breath about taking a shower.
I consider joining her, but I’m not sure she wants me in there right now. I walk out of the lake, wringing water from my shirt. Once I reach the back porch, I kick off my boots and tug off my wet socks. I set them out in the sun to dry, then open the back door. I barely take a step when I pause. I hear the shower running already, but that’s not what makes me wonder what I’ve just walked into.
Stella’s boots and socks are set by the back door. Her sweater lies in a pile in the center of the small kitchen floor. I pick it up and drape it over one of the chairs to help it dry, then take another step to find her denim shorts also on the floor. Beyond them, leading in a trail to the large bathroom with the oversized shower and tub, are a black, lacy bra and a thong. My gut clenches, realizing that’s what she had on under those shorts. I step around the lingerie and peer into the bathroom.
It’s already filling with steam from the hot water. The doors are frosted three-fourths of the way up. Staring at me just over the top, her hair slicked back from the water, is Stella. I can just see the outline of her chest and her curves through the doors. Steam billows around her.
I wait to see if she wants me to leave, but as I step closer and see the hungry look in her eyes, I know she wants me to stay.
I tug off my wet T-shirt and it hits the tile floor with a wet plop. She bites her bottom lip as those eyes wander across my chest. She tugs on a strand of hair, transfixed, as I move my hands to my jeans.
I take my time undoing the button and gliding down the zipper. As much as I want to jump in there with her and take her hard and fast, I remember we have the whole weekend here. There’s no need to rush. Not today.
I remove my jeans slowly, taking my briefs down with them. The moment my hardened shaft bobs into view, Stella’s eyes darken with desire. I kick my clothes aside and stalk toward the shower door. I pull it open and steam flows out, hitting my skin. Warming it. Stella steps to the side so I can enter, and the door clicks shut behind me. Gently, I trace my fingers down her cheek to her jawline, then lower and lower.
Her chest rises and falls faster as I reach her neck, following the water running over her shoulder to her arm. I want to explore every last wet inch of this woman, my woman. My other hand joins the first in its roaming, cupping her breasts lightly then running along the sensitive skin beneath the heavy mounds. All the while, I keep my eyes on hers, loving the way her pupils dilate even more, or how they narrow each time I find another spot that makes her breath catch. I reach her waist then move around so I can cup her perfect ass in my palms. I bring her in close, so her pert nipples press into my chest. I suddenly want to taste them and lower my mouth to do just that.
She clutches the back of my head as I suck and tease her nipple with my tongue. Her back arches, and I hold her as close as I can as water splashes over my shoulders. A quiet moan falls from her lips as I switch to the other breast, massaging her hips as I hold her against me. I nuzzle her neck then capture her mouth in a heated kiss that leaves us both panting for air. My fingers become tangled in her long locks and we laugh as I try to get them free.
Once they are, I slowly turn her around, so her back is to my chest. As her heart pounds in her chest, I let my hands glide down her wet body, grinding against her ass as I do it. When she grinds right back, I grunt and nibble along her shoulder. The temperature in the bathroom rises with every passing second as I find her curls and spread her deliciously delicate lips with my fingers. With a featherlight touch, I roam over her most sensitive places, teasing until she’s cursing.
“Danya,” she whispers, throwing her head back. She reaches around for me, but I shift just out of reach with a chuckle. “Not fair.”
“What’s not fair is you traipsing around in a damn thong.”
“Oh, you like that, do you?”
I palm her sex and she gasps. “You tell me, doll.” I continue to run my fingers along her inner thighs as she spreads her legs for me without even a word. I want her quivering for my touch. Want her begging for it. I tell myself to be patient, but the moment I slip a finger within her hot sheath, my cock twitches with the urge to be buried inside her. “So damn wet.”
I leisurely twist several fingers deep within her as I turn her head so I can kiss her. My tongue thrusts into her mouth in time with my hand.
This time when she reaches around to hold me, I let her. Those hands close around my shaft and I groan into her mouth. She squeezes me as she pumps those hands up and down. I stay in time with her, but it’s not enough. I have a feeling it never will be.
Wanting more, I remove my fingers and spin her around, but the shower isn’t a great place to have sex. Not when she’s so damn short. Not bothering to turn off the water or dry off, I open the door, pick her up in my arms so I can keep kissing her, and carry her to bed.
“We’ll get it wet,” she complains, though she’s grinning.
“And? You want me to stop?”
“Hell no,” she gets out just as I lay her on the bed and follow her down.
We kick the covers out of the way and then we’re off. Our hands roam over each other like this is our first and last time to be together. Since the night I turned my back on her, there’s been a hole that has become deeper with each passing year. A hole filled with regret and bitterness that I believed I was always going to be alone. Even if Mikhail had ordered me to marry someone else, that person wouldn’t have been Stella. As reckless as she is, there is still so much fight and life in her. She ignites a fire in me I thought had long since burned out.
This is the woman I’m meant to be with. There are no more doubts in my mind that what we had back then is just a fraction of what we can have now that we’re together again. As we lie side by side, I smooth my hand up her thigh then spread her legs wide. My fingers easily glide within her depths, wet and crying out for me. I spread that sweet wetness and just as two fingers find their home in her sheath, the other ventures to a different place.
She gasps, but then her nails dig into my back as her hips buck, urging me on. It makes her even wetter and I find myself on the verge of letting go myself. My lips shift from hers to her neck then lower, sucking mercilessly on her nipples as she throws her head to the pillows on a moan. Her inner muscles tense and pulse around my fingers as I pick up the pace.
Just as the orgasm overtakes her and she’s shuddering in my arms, I roll her over and thrust inside. She cries out sharply, a second orgasm washing over her as I claim her as mine. Mikhail can have every other part of my life, but he will never take her from me. She is mine from now until I die.
As Stella holds me close, I bury myself to the hilt within her folds, groaning as my own body shakes from the intensity of the pleasure flowing through me. She’s panting hard, another cry filling the room until I take her mouth. I shift my hips just a hint and she clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. Curious, I continue to move, rubbing her clit ever so slightly. Her moans turn to laughter as she moves beneath me.
“Stop,” she gasps through the laughter. “I can’t take anymore.”
“Is that so?” I slip free and move my hand between our bodies. I rub that small bead until she’s cackling like a madwoman even as her hips thrust seemingly without her control. Another orgasm catches her in its grip and then her body sinks to the bed while a sated look fills her eyes.
“Shit, Danya,” she says after she catches her breath. “What did you do to me?”
“I think we both just finally let loose.” I flop over beside her and stare at the ceiling. “The bed’s wet.”
“You think?”
“I vote we move to the couch.”
“Agreed, after I clean up for real this time.” She starts to get up, then rolls over and tackles me, kissing me fiercely. Then she climbs out of bed and darts to the bathroom with a wink. I’m not sure if I can move that fast yet and am content to keep lying in bed for a bit longer.
A few hours later, as we laze around on the couch, me in jeans and nothing else, Stella wearing one of my old flannel shirts, she traces her fingers along my tattoos. I didn’t receive them until after I was forced to leave her.
“What do they all mean?” she asks quietly, motioning to the stars along my collarbones.
“These are for my rank,” I explain as her fingers trail lower to the tattoo of Zeus holding a lightning bolt. She taps it, and I oblige her. “Zeus is all-powerful, watching over others, ruling over his family. It’s what I’ve been doing and what I will be doing.”
Her brow wrinkles slightly, but she doesn’t say anything about my choice of words. “And the veil over him?”
“He’s everywhere. You never know where he will appear.”
When her hand dips lower to my abdomen and the large tattoo there, I catch her wrist gently in my grasp. “Danya?”
I glance briefly at the coffin tattoo bearing several crosses on the lid.
“I think I already know what that one means,” she whispers.
I kiss her hand, then her knuckles as my chest tightens and a heaviness falls over my shoulders. “I want to be as honest with you as I can,” I reply quietly, the words coming out rough. “But some parts, I’m not ready to talk about, not yet. There’s too much darkness right now, and if I delve into it, if I let you see it, I’m afraid I’ll pull you down with me.”
The coffin is not a tattoo I wanted, but what I wanted wasn’t exactly taken into consideration.
Stella pulls herself onto my lap, straddling me, then cups my face in her hands.
“You are not a bad person, Danya,” she says sternly. “You were thrown into this shitty world just like I was, but it doesn’t have to define you.”
“For the moment, it does.” I stare intently into those green eyes I used to know so well. Back then, Stella was never able to keep secrets from me. Now I sense she is. “Promise me right now that you’re not up to something that’s going to get you in trouble.”
“I told you I’m not.”
“Stella, promise me,” I repeat, holding her hands securely in mine. When she starts to turn away, I place my fingers on her cheek and guide her back to me. “Promise me right now. You want me to trust you and not treat you like a child? This is how that happens.”
She puffs out her cheeks as she blows out a breath, then looks me square in the eye and says, “I promise I’m not up to anything that will get me in trouble.”
I wait for her to blink or show some sign that she’s lying. There isn’t any. I hug her to my chest and kiss the top of her head. “I know this isn’t going to be exactly like you wanted, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be easy, but we’ll make it through. That I promise you.”
“Danya?”
“Hmm?”
“You think there’s a chance you’ll ever leave this world behind?”
When we were younger, we talked about getting out all the time. I smile, remembering some of the grander plots we had in place to get away from the family businesses. Back then, we were kids. Now we’re adults, and the claws of our families have dug in too deep.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’m not sure I can.”
She doesn’t say a word. We stay on the couch for a long while until her stomach growls. She perks up and says she’s going to make some food. As she makes ready to bound off, I catch her hand. She gives me a beaming smile, and I let her slip out of my reach. Why do I feel like even as I’m getting Stella back, I’m about to lose her at the same time?
Chapter 14
Danya
It’s been three days since I took Stella to my home away from home. We’ve spent each night in each other’s arms. I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of waking up beside her or finding her curled against my chest in the middle of the night. My mornings are certainly not boring anymore. I’ve found we both enjoy being woken up in a more unconventional way.
I grin, remembering how this morning I found her already straddling me. I woke up in time to buck my hips and find my way inside her hot sheath. I took her hot and fast before she had to head off to campus and I had to come to the training facility.
If only I could say I have no worries anymore about Stella being in my life. Her question about finding a way out of this world has stuck with me. If I can’t find a way to make this work for her, ensure she’s safe and can find so
me semblance of true happiness, my gut tells me I’ll lose her one way or another. She doesn’t want to be a part of the violence and mind games. I don’t either, but walking away isn’t an option. It’ll never be that simple. They’ll come after us, and I will not lose Stella because I’m arrogant enough to think Mikhail would just let us go without a fight.
That, and I can’t help worrying about what Stella will think of me after her father is killed.
“Hasn’t happened yet,” I tell myself as I lean over the desk, glaring at the blueprints for the De Luca mansion. “You have time.”
But not enough. It’ll never be enough to plan for the fallout. Mikhail has yet to say who he’ll send to take out Joseph Russo. He’s a twisted man. I know he’ll send me. It’ll be the ultimate test of loyalty for Stella. I’ll kill her father, and she’ll have to decide if she wants to stay a part of our family or stand beside the Russo name.
