by Selena Scott
“I-” she struggled with the words but she was just so damn foggy.
“Pandora,” he growled and had her eyes snapping to his with the unbridled authority in her voice. “I will not fuck you in back seat like a teenager at prom.”
As he spoke, one of his hands journeyed up, just to the southern edge of the lace of her bra. His other hand went down, to dip just the smallest inch underneath the band of her jeans.
His eyes held hers captive, her spirit bucked, and she could feel her own electricity shock him, but he held onto the reins still.
“But I am going to touch you, Pandora,” his voice was a husky growl. “Before both of us lose our minds.”
Whatever words she was going to say were swallowed on a gasp as he did just that, touched her. Why were his hands so strong, so calloused? He was a lawyer for fuck’s sake. But then her racing mind was off like a light because his mouth was at her throat and one of his enterprising hands had finally found her breast.
Dora’s spirit rose up again, arched her body like an animal rattling at the bars of a cage. His thumb raked across her nipple and his mouth nipped and sucked its way down her chest. He pulled her shirt and bra down, bunching it around her middle and freeing her breasts. Dora’s skin bunched and pebbled against the cool morning air, and then his mouth was there, warming her. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth and tugged. A corresponding tightening pulled at Dora deep inside of her body. She shifted her legs restlessly. Needing. Needing.
Danil tugged at her breast roughly, he was needing something himself, and unlike Dora, he knew exactly what it was. He needed to bury himself so deep inside her that he’d never get out. But he ripped the beast inside him back on a chain. He was not going to one-off her in the back of a car right now. Not when he’d gotten his first honest glimpse of emotion from her. Not when he was the only fucking person she knew in Spokane.
So instead he decided just to throw himself off the insanity bridge. He tugged again at her breast and she bucked against him.
She was as silent as a sunrise and it was driving him nuts. All that restrained, restless energy beneath the surface of her. He wanted, needed her to cry out for him. So instead of concentrating on his pounding cock, he concentrated on that.
Instead of giving her time to get in her own head, Danil decided to go as fast as he wanted to. To please them both. He was already teasing himself just by touching her, he didn’t need any more fucking footsie. So he reared back, unsnapped her jeans and ripped them down to her boots. He growled. Took ten seconds to rip those off too and then she was laying, her chest heaving, her breasts out, and nothing but a swatch of black silk covering her from him.
Danil allowed himself just one small moment of looking. He propped one of her feet up on his shoulder. He bit at her ankle, almost as an afterthought, as his eyes raked over her gorgeous body. He really had never seen a better-looking woman in his life. She was as curvy as a mountain range. So soft he could barely see straight. And her face was carved and angular like a model. The early morning shadows slashed across her, darkening her eyes that were smudged with yesterday’s makeup. It made her look like he’d been fucking her all night.
Instead, she’d been in a jail cell, he remembered with a growl. Well, that was over. And now it was time for her to moan for him. He was done with the fucking appetizers.
Falling forward, Danil threw her other leg over his shoulder as well. Her eyes burned as she fell still, watching him. Her breath gasped out of her parted lips, but still, she was silent.
Danil kept his eyes on hers as he lowered his head. He wanted to watch her every expression. But his own eyes slammed closed of their own accord, when he caught the scent of her. It was the same light flavor of her mouth, but intensified, finally concentrated enough for him to get a fucking handle on it.
He often went slowly with a woman, savored her like he might a piece of dark chocolate. But that wasn’t in the cards for them. He fell on her, ripping her panties aside ruthlessly. His mouth was devouring her before he could slow himself. She was a piece of ripe fruit. Her flavor burst through him. Warm and plentiful and everything he’d ever wanted.
Dora was no longer on earth. Maybe she was dead. Maybe that animal in the woods really had gotten her last night. Because she’d never felt a feeling like this. Danil’s mouth was stroking and nipping and sucking her into oblivion. She’d never felt a feeling like this before. Like every nerve in her body was straining toward the heaven of his mouth. She wasn’t racing, she wasn’t building, she was in a cloud of the most intense pleasure of her life. And when she came, it was a complete surprise. She was falling through the air like the entire earth had given way beneath her.
She heard a desperate moan escape her lips as she arched and tightened and ricocheted off the face of the planet. He brought her through. All the way to the other side. She was vaguely aware of him lapping at her gently, small rivers of pleasure coursing softly through her to him.
She was limp as water, her eyes slowly coming back into focus. Vaguely she watched him sit up. He leaned forward, gave a very satisfied kiss to each of her breasts before he straightened her bra and shirt back up.
Her panties though, he slid down her legs all the way.
“What are you doing?” she heard herself ask as she propped herself up on her elbows.
Danil arched an eyebrow at her, stuffing her underwear in the front pocket of jeans that were quite obviously straining around his massive erection. “I’m keeping them.”
“You’re keeping my underwear,” she repeated blankly.
He cocked his head sardonically at her as he started to put her legs back into her jeans, yanking them back up her legs, none too gently. “You have others, yes?”
“Yes, of course, I-” Dora pushed in frustration at her hair that kept falling across her brow. She needed to stop fucking stuttering and say what she meant. He was just so discombobulating. “Does that mean that we’re done here?”
She waved her hand between the two of them.
“For now, yes,” he told her, buttoning her jeans and locating one of her socks. “I told you I wouldn’t fuck you in the back of a car like a teenager.”
“Oh,” Dora said, flopping back and letting him slide her socks and then her boots back on her feet. “I just thought that meant you were going to fuck me in the back of the car like a grown man.”
Danil let out a surprised chuff of a laugh. Dora felt the pleasure of having made him laugh, something that she suspected was quite rare.
He leaned forward, a look of arrogance and pride crossing his face. It was one that Dora was beginning to recognize quite well. “Trust me, ptuška. You are not ready for me to fuck you.”
Now Dora was the one laughing, shaking her head at his pride. “Whatever you say, lawman.”
He reached forward in the car and handed her her leather coat. He wasn’t even close to being satisfied, Dora could see the evidence of that in the fit of his jeans. But he was swinging out of the car, crossing to her door and opening it for her. She supposed he was the kind of man who really knew how to be patient. She inwardly shrugged. She wondered what that was like. She was the kind of person who needed everything now.
She folded herself out of the car and stretched tall, letting the cool morning air wash over her face.
“Well,” she said, stretching one arm and then the other. “Despite the lack of sleep and the night in jail, I actually feel like a million bucks right now.”
That arrogant look swept over Danil’s face again. “This does not surprise me. Are you sure you can drive? You look a bit drunk. Satisfied and drunk.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll drive just fine, Belarus.” She glanced at her watch. “But I should get going.”
Something crossed Danil’s face. Something slightly annoyed. Like he didn’t want her to go. But then he was stepping back from her. “Me as well. I’ve got to be in court in an hour.”
“Well,” she said, falling back on her
natural charm, the thing that had gotten her through so many moments. She rose up on one toe and put her arms around his neck. Jesus, he was tall. “Thanks for the wake-up call, sailor.”
She smiled up at him, expecting him to grin back, to pick up the thread of her lighthearted tone. But he didn’t. He stared down at her, his eyes suddenly that same intensity that they were when she’d first met him. “You are welcome, Pandora.”
He scuffed her hair over her forehead. She was making light of the moment, he could easily see that. And he supposed he could join her there. But he didn’t want to. He wanted her to see that to him, it wasn’t a joke. He wasn’t sure what it actually was. But he was damn sure it wasn’t a joke.
Leaning down, he caught her in a quick kiss. He didn’t let it spin out, the way he wanted to, but it was still deeply personal. He kissed her with the knowledge of someone who had tasted her everywhere. He knew her flavor. And now he knew the sound she made when she let herself dissolve into pleasure. It was one that he kept close, inside. He replayed it in his head as he watched her get into her car. She hit the gas, jolting the car onto the road in exactly the kind of reckless driving he could have predicted from her.
Danil watched her drive away, and still he just stood still. Simply replaying her gasping breath. The way she’d said his name. She’d been pleading with him. Asking him for something that he hadn’t even known he could give her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Two mornings later, as the sun rose over the mountains, Danil sweated like an ice water glass on a summer’s day. He gritted his teeth and picked up his pace. It was the last hill before home and he was going to sprint up it if it fucking killed him. Which it might. He’d run over forty miles in the last three days and still his body raced toward a finish line he couldn’t reach.
Why hadn’t he fucked her? It was a question he’d asked himself a hundred times in the last days. Yeah, yeah. The vulnerable look in her eyes. Of course. But currently, Danil was at war with the side of himself that hadn’t just taken what he’d so badly wanted. Maybe he wouldn’t have tossed and turned in his bed for the last two nights if he’d just done what his body had screamed for.
He knew it wasn’t just his honorable side that had kept him from having sex with her. It was something more than that. Since he’d broken down and talked to her outside of the coffee shop, he’d broken down all the way and done an incredible amount of research on her. She’d been right when she’d said he’d had a Google party. He’d spent a lot longer than he’d care to admit on Google images. She’d always been beautiful. Breathtakingly so. But that wasn’t what had really gotten him. It was her writing.
There were tons of it that could be found online and in a matter of basically an entire day in front of the computer screen, he thought he’d read everything she’d ever written. Every article was so filled with passion and inexhaustible amounts of research. She wrote with heart, humor, and damn near the steadiest hand he’d ever seen. Her viewpoints did not waver. They were carved out of facts. Frustratingly so. In her investigative pieces, her op-eds, even a few personal essays he’d been able to track down, she brought the reader on a journey, with her as his only companion. She was a truly exceptional talent.
She would have made a hell of a lawyer.
But she was a writer. Only to have up and quit four years ago. Just like that. Disappeared from the writing world. From the internet. From the face of the earth for all he could tell. And she’d turned those apples in her hands in the supermarket. And handed him coffee. And when she’d told him that he was the only person she really knew in Spokane, he’d gotten the feeling that she really meant the world.
So, he could have fucked her in that car, like her body was begging for him to do. But she deserved more than that. More than a few angry, stolen moments in a cramped backseat with his brother’s crumbs littered around.
He could have.
But he hadn’t. So here he was, ripping his carcass up a hill like a mountain goat. He had a few rare hours before he had to be in for work.
“Why in god’s good name do you do this?”
Danil bit back a growl of frustration when he heard Emin’s voice coming from beside him. His brother rolled down the passenger window of his car and coasted alongside Danil, following him up the hill.
Danil didn’t answer. Partly because there simply wasn’t enough air in the world right now. But also because his brother could go fuck himself.
“You run as a man when you could be running as bear. I do not understand you, Danishka.”
Still, Danil ignored him. His annoyed rage was enough to give him a final spurt of energy and he gunned it up the rest of the hill. Danil skidded to a stop and almost keeled over. He planted his hands on his knees and watched his brother park his car in the driveway of Danil’s house.
Great, apparently he had a breakfast date. Emin, a genius with a paintbrush, was notorious for burning water. The man couldn’t butter toast. So he bounced from his mother’s house to his brothers’ houses for whatever meal of the day he was hungry for.
Danil leaned down to stretch out his back and legs. He ignored Emin even as he saw his scuffed boots walk up next to him.
“I ask again. Why would you run as man when you could bound and gallop as bear?” Emin asked.
Danil understood the question. Running was awkward and slow as a human when you compared it to how it felt to run as a bear. But they served different purposes.
“Unless you want to sweat as human. Because you need your human heart to race,” Emin posed philosophically. “Because your human body is not getting its poor little needs met, huh?”
Danil knew where he was going with this and completely ignored his brother, straightening up and walking up his driveway. Emin followed behind, showing no insult at being ignored.
“I am thinking that if you are choosing to race and sweat as a human then it is because you wish you were racing and sweating in a different way. I am thinking it means that the sexy journalist is not letting you race and sweat on top of her.”
Now, Danil had heard enough from his loudmouth brother. He opened his front door and slid in, attempting to slam the door on Emin. But Emin was fast, always had been, and was standing in Danil’s living room before the door even closed.
“Ah. I see I’ve hit nail on skull.”
“On the head, Emin. You’ve hit the nail on the head,” Danil corrected, unable to ignore it.
Emin followed his brother up the stairs of his house, completely at home. Even though Danil was the youngest, he had been the first of the brothers to own his own home and all of them were proud of him. Even though Emil owned his own little cabin up the mountain now, he still liked to spend time at Danil’s.
The neat little two-storey with its matching furniture and photos on the walls was perfectly Danil. Even all the plates matched, Emin thought as he pulled out two and started setting the table. He did the one other thing that he was equipped to do in a kitchen and put the coffee on.
A few minutes later Danil stomped into the kitchen, his hair damp from the shower and his undershirt tucked into his suit pants. He sniffed the air appreciatively as the first drips of coffee wafted through the kitchen.
“You need art in here,” Emin said as he surveyed the kitchen.
Danil dug in the fridge for eggs and bacon, an American breakfast the brothers had all taken to quite fast when they’d first moved from Belarus. “I’ve been telling you this for years. But all your paintings go to Maciaryszki. Or straight to your clients.”
“I’ve got one that I’ll bring over here. None of my clients like it very much. It’s very… tame.”
Danil raised a sardonic eyebrow at his brother’s tone as he cracked eggs into a hot pan. He wasn’t going to dignify that with a response.
“Don’t give me that look,” Emin said, biting back his smile. “You’ll like it very much. The side of you that jogs as a man instead of as bear. Your domesticated side.” He smiled even more when Danil b
ristled at his choice of words, flipping the eggs. “The painting is of our mountain, behind Papa’s house. All in blues. It’s just your style. Everything is in its right place.”
Danil’s eyebrow raised even further as he flipped the bacon in a second pan. Emin crossed the kitchen, poured them both a cup of coffee before the machine was done and got a small satisfaction out of watching the drips burn as they fell onto the hot tray. He ignored Danil’s annoyed noise and put the coffee pot back into its place, slid Danil’s coffee cup across the counter.
“You might as well just get to your point, Emin,” Danil said, taking an irritated swig of coffee and cursing when it burned his tongue. He could tell that his brother was circling around something here and he just did not have the patience to wait while he landed the plane.
“My point is that I think you sweat up a hill at 5 am because your woman is not in the right place. Not in her life or in yours.”
“Excuse me?” Danil tossed three eggs on a plate for his brother and then for himself. He mounded another plate with the still-sizzling bacon and tossed it all on his kitchen table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The men sat and Emin watched Danil with a discerning eye. “It means that she is somewhere sleeping across town in a shitty hotel rather than upstairs in your bed.”
Danil tried to say nothing but his brother was annoying the shit out of him this morning. “It’s not like that, Emin. I’m not trying to bed her.”
Emin nodded, saw something flash on Danil’s face that he’d never seen before. Interesting, he thought. Very interesting.
“Fine, well, that’s your own delusion. But as for her place in her own life, well, she’s not right there either.”
