by Nikki Sloane
The hairs on the back of my neck lifted and tingled. Someone was watching me. I glanced over my shoulder and instantly found Dimitrije, who stared at me with disdain. His attention slowly drifted back to the man he was talking to. The conversation seemed . . . intense.
Vasilije must have noticed what I was looking at. “The fucking Russians. They keep pushing, and Dad’s gonna have to do something.”
“Be quiet.” Luka’s tone was stern.
We all watched the exchange in silence. When the man left, Dimitrije’s attention returned to me, and under his exacting gaze, I shivered.
“You’re cold?” Luka’s palm slid up and down my arm, trying to warm me.
I pressed my lips together and nodded. Around Dimitrije, my bones turned to ice.
“All right.” Luka pressed his hand into the small of my back, urging me deeper into the kitchen. “I have to introduce you to my uncle, and then we can go.”
Goran Markovic was as intimidating as his younger brother Dimitrije. Goran’s nose wasn’t perfectly straight, as if it had been broken and never healed right, and his eyes were cold and intelligent. He stood taller than his brother, with more gray in his hair, but it made him look distinguished. Wise, and calculating.
“This is my girlfriend,” Luka said.
“Addison.” Goran gave a similar smile as Luka’s. Only a corner turned up. He extended a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
There was no way to stop the tremble as I shook his hand. My voice was choked, barely able to be heard over the party. “You too, Mr. Markovic.”
His hand was like iron, and he didn’t release his grip. “I need to say thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“For getting Luka to agree to look at my finances. I’m not sure if he told you, but he discovered my last accountant was stealing from me.”
“Oh?” I glanced at Luka, but his expression was flat. His eyes were tight, disguising whatever emotion he was feeling. “No, he doesn’t talk about that with me.”
Relief took over when Goran released my hand. Again he flashed the pleased smile. “Well, I’m glad to finally have someone I trust looking after my investments.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” Luka said. “Are you investing in a private wine club downtown? I was putting together the tax documents this morning and you spent five figures there this year.”
Goran’s expression shifted as if recalling a good memory. “No, not investing. They carry an exclusive wine I can’t get elsewhere.” His gaze turned to me. “Talking taxes on Christmas Eve? While I appreciate his work ethic, do you?”
I wasn’t sure what to respond with, and looked to Luka for help.
But it wasn’t needed. Goran chuckled softly. “You probably do. Luka says you’re driven. And he told me you’re going to medical school. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
His gaze held mine just a fraction too long, and my shiver was back. He eyed me as if assessing my potential, and all I could do was think about how this man had ordered the death of Luka’s mother. Goran reached abruptly into his suit jacket pocket and retrieved a buzzing phone, then motioned to the party.
“I’ll let you kids get back to it. Excuse me.”
We drifted toward the main room, and exhaustion slammed into me. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle being the doll in a pretty dress on Luka’s arm. I whispered to him. “Can we go?”
“I already texted our driver.”
I sagged into the warm back seat as soon as the car arrived—my dress of silk and lace weighed a million pounds under my coat. Luka loosened the knot at his neck, and his hand came to rest on my knee. I shifted closer and leaned into him.
It’d been two months since we’d sat in costumes in the back seat of one of his cars, heading toward his house. We were still in costumes now, but everything else was different.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said.
My breath hitched. “Thank you.”
I set my hand on top of his, and traced patterns on the back of his palm. The only sound was the pavement steadily rolling beneath tires as the car carried us through the night. He looked beautiful tonight, too, but then, he always did.
“I paid off your student loan.”
I stopped tracing my patterns. “You did what?”
“Your interest rate was ridiculous, and it pissed me off. So I paid it.”
My mind floundered. What was his motivation? What angle was he working? “I can’t let you do that.”
“Yes, you can.” His eyebrow bent into an upside-down V. “It’s already done, anyway. They’re not going to give me my money back.”
“Luka—”
“I didn’t do it to trap you. There’s no strings attached, so you’ll accept this from me, understand?” His voice was quiet, yet firm. I nodded slowly, too stunned to render an answer. His displeased look softened. “Good. Merry Christmas, Addison.”
Holy crap. His hand beneath mine turned over, and he laced his fingers with mine. Such a simple action, and yet it carried so much meaning.
“Merry Christmas, Luka.”
25
VASILIJE MOVED IN the week after New Year’s.
His room was in the middle of the second floor, and I was grateful there was an empty guest bedroom between the brothers as a buffer. Since Vasilije had failed out of school, Dimitrije got him a job in sales at the dealership. Luka was in the back office, so he said he didn’t see much of his brother.
I didn’t either. Luka asked me to steer clear of him, and I had no problem following that order.
My spring semester was a lighter load than the fall, but still kept me busy, and I spent most of my afternoons in the office, which Luka had forbidden Vasilije from entering. It had become our space as much as Luka’s bedroom had.
“He finally asked her out,” I said to Luka one afternoon.
He looked up from his desk to spy me curled up on the couch. I still had the blanket over my lap even though the fire was going in the fireplace.
“Gavin?”
“Yeah. He’s in my psychology lecture.”
Luka sat back in his chair, intrigued. “What’d Vanessa say?”
“She said yes. You’d think it wouldn’t work between them, because they have nothing in common.”
“They like each other,” he said. “Sometimes that’s enough.”
I supposed that was true. I stretched my arms up above my head and closed my textbook, setting it on the table.
“Are you done for the night?” he asked. To anyone else, his tone would sound benign, but I knew better.
He had plans for this evening. My blood pressure rose. “Yes.”
“Good.” He stood from his chair and his expression thickened with desire. “Come here.”
I followed his order without a word. I stood still and allowed him to methodically strip off my clothes, each removal exposing more of my flesh to his lust filled eyes and greedy hands.
I wasn’t nervous, and I wasn’t cold—the fire was putting out enough heat. But I shook anyway from the excitement and anticipation. He took his papers off the desk and put them in a drawer, which left the top of the enormous desk bare.
He trapped my waist in his hands and moved me to the center of the desk. “Sit.”
The smooth wood was cold against the backs of my legs.
Rope had been stored in the bottom drawer of the desk, which he retrieved and dropped down beside me with a quiet thud. Luka’s eyes gleamed as I found his gaze. He hadn’t tied me up since the first day I’d been at the house. He’d told me one day I might want it, and now I looked at the coiled rope with surprise. The blackness inside me did want it. There wasn’t any other feeling like being at his mercy.
It was a rush when he eased me onto my back, urging me onto the center of the desk. There was no conversation. No discussion about rules, or safe words, or feelings. The realization washed over me. There was no need for it, because I trusted him.
I’m fine, I hoped my expression told him. I want this.
His warm hands positioned my feet flat on the desktop, and then there was more rope. It was lashed around my thigh, just above each knee, ensuring my legs stayed open wide to him, and the other ends were anchored beneath the desk.
When it was done and I was bound to the desk, firelight played over him, and a lazy grin swept through his face. I was a vibrating, exciting mess, and enjoyed being on display like this for him.
“Maybe I’ll leave you like this all night,” he said on a low voice. “You look too fucking perfect not to.”
I licked my lips. Once again, his heat filled the room and evaporated all the moisture.
Luka freed the tie from his neck and dropped it on the chair. Then, he worked the buttons of his shirt, peeled the sleeves down his arms, and tossed the shirt on top of the tie. He rolled the chair back to the corner, giving him plenty of workspace.
“You look so good,” I said, unable to contain it. His lean chest was hard and toned in all the right places, and I craved to have his smooth, hot skin against mine.
He paused. “Who said you could speak?”
I sucked in a breath. Luka liked to control all things when we were together, and I should have realized he expected to control my voice as well. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Which was clearly the wrong thing to do. Displeasure arrowed his eyebrow up. He repeated it in a demanding tone. “Who said you could speak?”
I knew better than to say anything else.
When he seemed satisfied I wasn’t going to talk, he put his hands on my breasts, caressing them. His warm palms kneaded and traced my curves, and I reveled in his touch, closing my eyes to enjoy the sensation better—
There was a sharp smack of fingers against skin as he slapped my breast.
“Eyes on me.”
I fluttered my eyelids back open. The sight of him shirtless and standing between my bound legs was intensely hot, and his dark, lewd expression in the flickering shadows was incendiary. I had to press my lips together to hold in the moan.
He moved lower. His fingertips drew a line down my belly and glided further along, continuing all the way through my center and up to a bent knee. Then, they trailed back down to where I was quivering. His feather light touch caused the muscles in the insides of my thighs to contract and flinch. I withstood his teasing for a lifetime, growing hot and more desperate with each passing moment. When was he going to really touch me? When was he going to fuck me?
He yanked a drawer open and searched around inside. It was shut with a thump beneath me, and he held something silver in his hands. A short strand of tiny silver beads. Clamps gleamed at either end. I watched with apprehension as he studied the clamps.
I was fairly sure where these were going, and when he gripped one of my breasts in a steady hand, it confirmed it. The jaws of the rubber tipped clamp pinched open, and then bit down on my hardened nipple.
It hurt. Not badly, but it was a burning ache. I gulped down breath as he fastened the clamp on the other nipple and dropped the cold chain connecting them onto my abdomen. His gaze flitted to mine, checking my reaction.
“I’m okay—” Wait, shit! I wasn’t supposed to speak.
His face turned to stone. “Congratulations. You’ve just lost the privilege of my touch.”
My heart sprinted. What did he mean? Again, he jerked the drawer open and something else was dug out. When Luka shut it, my mouth fell open. He dropped one on my stomach while he pulled the other on—a black latex glove. He tugged it up to his wrist, and then retrieved the other and shoved his hand inside. There was the tiny cloud of powder as it was snapped on. He laced his fingers together and settled the latex tightly in place.
It wasn’t like his rubber-coated touch was all that different than his regular one, but the implied idea was what got to me. This barrier between us, denying pure contact and dulling his heat. His black hands squeezed and gripped at me, while his bare chest shone faintly with sweat from the fire, and his belt buckle glinted against his black pants. He looked dangerous—no, lethal—this way. Fucking gorgeous.
I moaned when he pushed two fingers deep between my legs. Finally.
The chain between my breasts was clenched in a black-gloved hand while the other fucked me. His voice was commanding. “You’ll say my name when I pull on this chain.”
There was a small pull, generating heat and a sting on my nipples. “Luka.”
Pleasure rippled over his expression. “Who owns this body?”
Tug. “Luka.”
“Who’s the only man you’ve had inside you?”
Tug. I gasped at the sensation. It was painful, but in the way I enjoyed. “Luka.”
“Tell me who your greedy, wet pussy aches for?”
Tug. “Luka,” I moaned.
“Tell me,” he said, his words stronger, “who you belong to.”
Tug. I was half out of my mind. “Luka.”
His fingers drove into the spot, and his thumb circle above, giving me dual pleasure. His expression shifted into one that was beyond lust, into something I hadn’t seen before. It made my heart stop.
“Tell me the name of the man you love.”
Tug.
My mind went blank.
His second tug was more of a jerk, and I gasped against the acute pain, but no words spilled from my lips.
“Goddamnit, Addison. Answer me.”
He pulled so hard, I cried out and jerked against the rope. Emotion swirled and tumbled. I cared deeply about him, but love? I had to come up with a response. “You said no lies!”
The chain crashed against my skin as he dropped his hold and stumbled backward, staring at me with disbelief. He looked wild and . . .
Holy. Shit.
Luka looked crushed, and it was heartbreaking.
His gaze swung away from me, and he stared at the fire, coursing a dark hand through his hair. I wondered if he was trying to calculate where he’d made an error in his equation since he hadn’t gotten the answer he was expecting.
The night after that horrible dinner with his father, I’d told Luka I’d never love him. Somewhere along the way, I began to wonder if he could do the impossible. Had he already? No. I couldn’t be in love with him. He’d marked me as his and stained my soul to match his perfect shade of black, but I wasn’t ready to be in love with Luka Markovic.
His attention snapped back to me, his eyes focused. His pants were undone, and within a heartbeat, his dick pushed inside. I groaned at the intrusion, but I was happy. I wanted our bodies fused together.
The chain was snatched up. “Whose cock is that fucking you right now?”
Tug. I was eager to answer. “Luka.”
He began to pump his hips and injected me with his heat. “Who knows exactly how to make you come?”
Tug. “Luka.”
Even though the ropes immobilized me, his free hand locked on my waist and pinned me down. His thrusts were rough and furious, jolting me. “Tell me who you think about all the time.”
He didn’t even have to pull on the chain. “Luka,” I gasped in between his body slamming into mine. The desk banged against the floor and the ropes dug into my skin. “Luka, Luka, Luka . . .”
He pitched forward, fisting the chain tighter and brought us nose to nose. His eyes were full of darkness. Pools of liquid sin I would be thrilled to drown in.
“Who do you exist for?” he snarled, yanking the chain so hard my back bowed up and my chest met his.
“Luka!”
I came violently off of the pain and the pleasure, shattering beneath him. His lips sealed over mine, and I was sure he was sealing my fate with his devastating kiss.
π
We didn’t speak
about it.
He made me come a second time on the desk, and then he’d followed after. He’d untied me, we’d gotten dressed in silence, and went to bed.
It bothered him over the next week, even though he said nothing. We ate our lunches and dinners together when our schedules allowed, and spent our nights in his big bed, learning more about each other and our lives. Nothing was off limits to him when he got curious, sexually or intellectually.
It was a Thursday night. I tossed and turned in bed, unable to keep my mind quiet. My financial aid package had arrived this afternoon and I’d discussed with Luka. While it would help, I’d still be looking at massive loans. It was normal to graduate from medical school with one hundred thousand dollars’ worth of debt, but that didn’t make it any easier to stomach. He’d gone quiet when he saw the paperwork, considering it carefully, but there was little to be done.
It was what it was.
“You’ll be fine,” he commented. “You’ll pay those off in the first few years.”
But now it was after midnight and I couldn’t shut off my brain. I had to get up and do something, even if it was just to stop disturbing Luka every time I shifted beneath the sheets. I didn’t have class until noon tomorrow, but he had work.
I threw on my robe over my pajamas and padded down the hallway. I’d get something to drink and then surf the internet or read. Anything to distract. Anything to keep from thinking about my future and whether or not the man I’d left in bed was going to be a part of it.
Light glowed from beneath Vasilije’s door, but it wasn’t surprising. He always seemed to go to bed late. I poured a glass of white wine, hoping it’d make me sleepy, or deaden my noisy thoughts. I was halfway to the office when a hulking figure appeared in the open hallway that ran beside the dining room.
“You’re up late,” Vasilije said. He stood casually, but he was blocking my route to the office, and I couldn’t shake the feeling he was doing it on purpose.
“Yeah.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, and waited expectantly for him to move, but he didn’t. It forced me to go into the darkened dining room.
“Hey, hold up. I want to talk to you for a minute about something.”
