by J. L. Drake
Vladimir was a bad guy in some respects, but he wasn’t all bad. He would move heaven to hell if it would make me happy. And I knew he would never order his sovietnik to coerce me into having sex with him. That was all Boris’s fucked-up idea. If it was just my body Vladimir wanted, he had plenty of chances; the boss was after my heart.
“What are you doing to me?” I giggled at my sophomoric reaction to his hotness. “Buenmozo.” I fanned my face.
He spun me around and admired my body. “You are the most beautiful young woman in the world, Carter. You take my breath away.”
I bit my lip and looked away, embarrassed by his unjust flattery. “Oh, please.”
“I mean it, angel. I cherish every moment we spend together.” He lifted my chin, trailed kisses down my neck, and teased me in Russian.
Breathe, breathe, breathe…
Chapter 45
An Imaginary Line
On the rooftop of our hotel, which served double duty as one of Miami’s top nightclubs, I could barely stomach more than a couple of bites of the amazing Cuban appetizers we shared for dinner. The scene the boss had set up was ground zero for my erogenous zone: live Latin music, a packed dance floor, and a devilishly romantic companion.
I rocked my shoulders to the beat of the bongos and sipped my mojito. I’d ordered one for both of us, to thwart a bottle of vodka from joining the party.
“Ready to dance?” Vladimir asked.
“Sí, estoy lista para divertirme contigo, mi amor.”
He licked his lips. “What does it mean?”
“Something good.”
Vladimir guided me to the dance floor and planted his hands on my hips. I curved my body around the beat of the drums, snaked my body around my host, and snuffed out my brain under a pile of humidified, beachy blonde waves.
As I shook it, I leaned my back against Vladimir’s chest and wrapped his arms around my waist to incorporate him into my forbidden dance. I sang along en español. He clung to me and swayed to the beat. His skin felt warm and moist from the humid evening air, and his masculine scent, coupled with his wandering hands, made it impossible for me to think about anything except—us.
After hours on the dance floor, I was a hot and sweaty mess. I’d only had one drink all night, but my energy was zapped. I rested my cheek on his chest and yawned.
He lifted my hair and blew on my neck. “Let’s get you to bed.”
When we got back to our suite, the room was filled with dozens of Vladimir’s trademark roses. Trays of chocolates, cheeses, and breads were spread out on the dining table, and there was a bottle of vodka in an ice bucket on the bar.
“You’re too good to me, boss.”
“You deserve it all and more.” Vladimir held my hand and guided me to the bar. He turned over two shot glasses and picked up the vodka bottle.
I flipped one of the shot glasses upside down. “None for me tonight. I’m exhausted.”
“You don’t expect me to drink alone, do you?”
I lifted my shoulders. If he got angry, and Boris wasn’t here to help me, I would be at his mercy. Sober, Vladimir would never hurt me, but an intoxicated pakhan was merciless. My hands trembled. I balled them up into fists and hid them behind my back.
Vladimir set down the bottle and flipped over his glass, too. “Then we won’t drink.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be.” Vladimir picked up a mini key lime cheesecake and fed it to me. As we noshed on sweets and savories, Vladimir unpacked the suitcase and laid out all the stuff I needed to get ready for bed. Instead of my usual cotton jammies, I got upgraded to a silky white nightie with matching lace panties.
“Need any help?” he asked.
I bit my lip and shook my head, sizing up the king-sized elephant in the room.
His gaze followed mine to the bed. “Don’t worry, angel. A Russian never goes back on a deal. I gave you my word, right?”
The fine upstanding crime boss was going to honor my purity plan? Even after I was all over him for, like, the last six hours? Not to mention, his body had been ready for me since we boarded the plane. He’d also nixed the vodka, which had to be difficult. He honestly and truly was trying his best to make me happy—and he respected me, too.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” I twisted my lips and peeked up at him.
“Don’t worry. I can fight off your advances.”
“That’s big talk. Sure you can take me?” I tugged on his belt playfully, but I flinched when the touch of a man’s belt forced back memories of Boris’s Christmas Eve coaching session.
“You’re a naughty girl, Carter.” He steered me into the bathroom and gave me some privacy.
After I washed up, I emerged in my sexy gown, sporting fresh breath and a clean face. Vladimir was waiting for me on top of the covers. He had changed into a white tank and black silk pajama bottoms. He always wore long pants, never shorts—even when he played tennis. Maybe he was worried his weird tats would freak me out. Wrong.
He rested his chin on his fist and admired my upgraded nightie. I had strategically placed my hair over my bruised arms in an effort to avoid an issue—if there even was one. I got the sense, though, that in the Russian Criminal Code of Ethics, the lying little weasel in me probably deserved the lessons imprinted on my skin.
He drew back the covers and smoothed his hand over the crisp white cotton sheets. “Come to bed.”
I snuggled in, and he adjusted the pillows under my head in the perfect comfy spot. His sexy bedroom eyes melted my resolve. I had zero faith in my ability to resist his charms.
He held up his finger and drew an imaginary line down the center of the bed. “We have a deal, Miss Cook. No crossing the line,” he teased. “Get some rest.”
“I’m not sleepy,” I said before he had a chance to turn off the light.
He sighed and rested his head on the pillow on the edge of our boundary. I imagined how awesome it would be to cross the border and cruise into enemy territory. Skin on skin, soft lips kissing my neck, wrapped in his strong embrace…
I scooted to the line and snuggled the sheet up to my neck. “Why are you the boss? Why not Boris?”
“My papa was the pakhan. In my world, it’s like being born into royalty.” He studied my expression. “Do you think I’m a bad guy?”
“Part of you is bad, but you have a brilliant mind and a generous heart.” I eyed the watch tattoo on his wrist. “So why be bad? Why not be good?”
“That’s it? Good or bad, black or white? I grew up in Soviet Russia. My grandfather, papa, brothers—my family was no worse, no less ruthless, than the government that controlled us. My babushka served three years of hard labor in the gulag for simply speaking her mind.”
“That’s awful. Does your family still live in Russia?”
He crossed the line and smoothed my hair out of my eyes. “My blood relatives are all gone. Boris and the Bratva are my only family.”
“I’m sorry.”
He rubbed my arm over the sheet. “Are you cold?”
“A little. How long have you known Boris?”
“From the day I was born. He and my papa were like brothers.” He covered me with the throw blanket from the end of the bed.
“Was prison scary? Did you ever see one of those bear-sized Siberian guard dogs up close? Do you have cathedral tattoos on your back, or did they only do that during the Soviet—”
He pressed his finger against my lips to silence me. “My turn.”
I lowered his hand. “You already know stuff about me. I hardly know anything about you.”
“Tell me a secret.”
“No way,” I said.
“You have plenty. Give me one.”
“Fine. Kiki and I are getting an apartment in Clifton. We’re moving into our new place in two weeks. I haven’t told Dad yet. Surprise.”
Vladimir tapped his fingers on his leg as he processed my confession. I thought for sure Boris had already ratted me out, but h
e had kept his share of secrets from the boss, too.
“I’m a grown woman, but Dad still treats me like a kid. I’m ready to move on.”
He flashed a naughty grin. “Anything I can do to help you move on to womanhood?”
I cracked up. He was so relaxed and cute when he was sober. “You promised, boss.” I crossed the line and shoved him playfully. “I need you to be my ‘Just Say No to the Sexy Russian’ buddy.”
His bedroom eyes lit up and he smoothed his hand over my silhouette. “I can do things for you, angel. We can enjoy ourselves without going all the way. I’ll protect your virginity with my life. Trust me.”
His seductive smile and practiced hand dissolved my Purity Plan like acid rain on a paper umbrella. I tried to resist him for, like, two seconds, but the fire burning down there had tipped over into Inferno Mode. “Turn off the lights,” I said.
He did, leaving only a sliver of moonlight to lighten the room. Vladimir tossed his clothes on the floor and slid under the sheets. When he lay on top of me, the heat emanating from his strong body ignited the sexual tension that had been smoking between us from the first night we met. His penis hardened as I ran my fingers through his hair and sloppy-kissed his face and neck.
He slid my nightgown off, trailed kisses down my neck, and ran his tongue across my nipples. “Your body is perfection, Carter.” He exhaled a deep, pleasurable grunt, and teased me with Russian words I didn’t understand as he squeezed and sucked on my breasts.
I groaned and swiveled my hips, enjoying his kisses yet longing for him to move his attention further down my body. He understood my need and slid his tongue across my six-pack on his way downtown. Once he landed in the zone, I gasped at the sensual arousal of his oral pleasure. He circled his tongue over and around my clit until the warmth and wetness kicked my excitement over to a new level.
“You want me to take you there, angel?”
I hummed an affirmative mm-hm, and he brought his fingers to his mouth and wet them. He slid one inside me and massaged me gently. “You’re so wet.”
My body stiffened, unaccustomed to the new sensation.
“Want me to stop?” he whispered, withdrawing.
“I like your mouth.”
Vladimir spread me apart and kissed me passionately between my legs. He swirled his tongue across my sex and rubbed me in the zone over and over and over. My excitement escalated and I thrust my hips against him to increase my pleasure and when I thought I couldn’t possibly feel any better my body stiffened, and I groaned a throaty growl as I climaxed for the first time.
“Oh, Vladimir.” As I came down from my release, I exhaled a sigh of relief as the pleasure he gave me pulsed through my sex. My body relaxed and while my excitement subsided, he nuzzled my virgin skin.
“Your taste is so sweet, angel. Your body is heaven.”
“Thank you for…that.” I draped my hand across my forehead as I caught my breath.
“So happy I could please you.” He cuddled up beside.
“Yeah, me too.” I opened my eyes and met Vladimir’s smug expression. “You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?” I shoved him in the chest. “Now it’s your turn.” I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back toward the foot of the bed. Unsure exactly how to return the favor, I lay across his chest and stroked his erection. When I got into a rhythm, it pulsed and grew stronger.
At the risk of sounding completely lame, I whispered, “What do I do now?”
“I like what you’re doing, angel.”
“How do I…make it happen.”
Vladimir took my hand and schooled me in the ways of how to make a man feel good. Once I felt confident, I teased him with my tongue and moved my hand up and down his length until his excitement peaked. He moaned and panted, even more dramatically than I did, and when he recovered, he pulled my body into his and tucked me into the contours of his body. Naked and intertwined under the sheets, we bonded in a way we never had before. Of course, I was attracted to him, but I felt connected to him.
In that moment, I knew Vladimir and I were destined to be together—forever. I rolled over and rested my head on his shoulder so that I could see his eyes. “I love you, Vladimir.”
With an expression of uncertainty, he placed his hands on my cheeks. “I love you too. More than anything in the world.”
My eyes welled up. He wiped away my tears and with them all the negativity about my self-worth I had bottled up for so long. This man, this gorgeous, powerful man loved me.
“Oh, Carter. You are the reason I breathe.” He rolled on top of me and kissed me so passionately, I had to fight for air between gasps. I clung to him, trusting my sexy Russian not to take more than I was willing to give. For better or worse, it was our moment, our time, our Day of Infamy.
Chapter 46
Afterglow
The morning after, we shared an intimate breakfast on the balcony and noshed on fresh local fruit, steel-cut oats with warm milk, yoghurt and honey, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Seagulls stalked our mini buffet from the sky and Vladimir’s eyes sparkled in the Florida sunshine as we talked and laughed and enjoyed our privacy. In the weeks I had known him, I had never seen him so relaxed and happy.
He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”
His unshaven cheeks felt sandpapery against my skin. “What does it mean?”
“I love you.”
I curled my finger around one of his ringlets. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”
As we noshed and enjoyed the sunshine and salty ocean air, I couldn’t ignore Boris calling me on the special phone. I’d heard it going off in my purse for, like, the billionth time. “I’d better get that. It might be important.”
“My phone has been going off all morning too.”
I could tell by his expression he was amused, rather than alarmed, but nonetheless I was a little freaked considering I had lied to everyone and jetted off to Miami Beach with my dad’s boss. Maybe someone had found out, and Boris was trying to warn me.
I ran inside and lifted the ringing phone. “What’s wrong?”
“Dobroye utro. Good morning.” Boris sounded relieved. “Everything okay?”
I glanced outside. Vladimir motioned for me to join him. “I’m khorosho.” I went back outside and curled up on his lap. He wrapped his arms around my belly. His touch excited me. I sucked in a deep breath.
“What’s wrong? Is boss there?”
“I’m with Vladimir now.” I turned my head and smooched his lips. “Vladimir is khorosho, too.” He tickled me and I giggled.
“I take it you and Vladimir had a khoroshiy evening together?”
“Da.”
“Good girl. Call if you need anything.”
After breakfast, I went to the bathroom to get changed for the beach. I slipped out of my robe and slid on a super cute fringy white and gold bikini. As I checked out my reflection in the mirror, a boney, battered, and bruised young woman with bags under her eyes and sallow cheeks stared back.
If I set foot on the beach with my older, prison-tatted Russian boyfriend looking like I got my ass beat on a daily basis, someone would call the cops. Up until that point, I’d kept my bruises hidden from everyone—including Vladimir. When we were naked, the lights were off and my body was hidden under the sheets.
“How does it look? You like it?” he asked from the other side of the door.
“Love it. I’ll model it for you after I finish getting ready.”
Shit. He would be mad for sure—either at me for deserving the marks he had left on my skin, or he’d be pissed at Boris for hurting me. Or he’d interrogate me about what I did that made Boris so mad, and then I’d have to cop to the Leonardo Examination Incident. If I ratted out Boris, I would have hell to pay with him all over again.
Secrets or lies? Neither option ended with us happily frolicking on the beach. I had to call for backup. I picked up my special phone and turned on the shower to mask my voice.
Boris picked
up on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t look good in my bikini. I’m afraid to go to the beach.”
“You have a nice figure, lapsha, get over—”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I packed a long-sleeved swim shirt. One for boss, too.”
I heard a knock at the door. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” I tapped the screen and hung up on Boris.
I pulled my hair forward to cover my arms, leaving the good parts from the neck down visible. I put my hand over my side to cover the yellowing bruises on my stomach where Boris had pinched my skin. “What do you think?” I turned to give him a good view.
He leaned in for a smooch. “Amazing. Who were you talking to?”
“Boris called to remind us to wear the swim shirts he packed. I guess coming home with matching sunburns might raise a few eyebrows.”
He took the phone from my hand to check the call log. “You said Boris called you, but you are the one who called him.”
I dismissed his objection with a wave of my hand. “Um, he called me, and then I called him back. Are you ready to hit the beach?”
He checked the call list again and shot me an accusing glare.
Don’t lie, don’t lie, don’t lie…
“I needed his advice. He’s my sovietnik, too.”
“What do you need? Why not come to me?”
I pushed my hair over my shoulders and exposed my secret.
Vladimir ran his fingers down my arms and assessed the damage. The bruises on my body told a story on my skin just as his Russian tattoos revealed his crimes and time served behind bars. He lined up his fingers over the marks he’d imprinted on my arms. Judging by his pained expression, he had no memory of hurting me.
“This happened while you were a guest in my house?”
“Saturday night after you—”
My phone rang in the palm of Vladimir’s hand. I shut my mouth, remembering Boris had warned me not to bring up alcohol.
His jaw clinched. “After I what?”
I hesitated. The phone continued to ring.
