Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3)

by Melanie Munton

  Or, maybe a more accurate description was, I did a little dance for him.

  I rolled my hips to the pulsating melody of the blaring techno song. Swaying sensually from side-to-side, dipping them provocatively on certain beats. I flipped my hair over one shoulder as I took a sip from my drink, watching Nico over the rim.

  His gaze shuttered.

  Clearly struggling to keep himself reined in, his eyes flicked down my body, zoning in on the exposed sliver of my stomach. His tongue dragged across his lower lip, his teeth digging into it.

  In that moment, I mentally high-fived myself for packing this black two-piece outfit set. The shorts were short, and the tank was a V-neck that showed whatever modest cleavage I had, which was nothing to write home about. The back of the top was mostly open and held together by a series of intricate ties.

  And, well, I had to give him the full effect, didn’t I? If he wanted to take in the view, he’d be getting it from all angles.

  Swerving my hips in a figure eight, I gave Nico my back. With the added titillation of him watching my every move, I stuck my ass out in his direction and put a little shimmy into it. I dropped it low, I shook it like a salt shaker. I gave him a show for all I was worth.

  Feeling a buoyancy I hadn’t experienced in a long time, I peeked over my shoulder—

  And saw a man on the brink of losing control.

  He was glaring at me, menacingly.

  But the rest of his features were clouded with lust. A type of lust that hinted of possession. His shoulders were rising and falling, adding a note of ferocity to his robust form. The image he created was a staggering one. An enlightening one.

  Nico could be a dangerous man. Threatening.

  Not toward me, I didn’t think.

  Putting all the pieces together—the way he’d handled his gun, the skill he’d wielded when fighting that brigadier, this reaction—I determined that Nico had a dark side. There were some sharp edges to him.

  Deadly sharp, perhaps?

  He certainly looked capable of lethal force.

  Something about that blatant show of desire on his rugged face drew me in. I felt pulled toward him. Whatever it was—the alcohol, the environment, the potent appeal of his masculinity—my feet began to move in his direction. Throwing me even more off balance, his chin actually dipped. He was nodding in approval, encouraging me to come to him.

  This time, I wasn’t being beckoned.

  This time, I wanted to go to this man. What would happen once I got there was still a mystery.

  But I wanted to find out.

  Two hands suddenly grabbed my hips from behind and hauled me up against a hard chest. A male voice muttered heavily-accented English in my ear. What words I could make out over the music were nothing short of suggestive.

  My gaze instinctively sought out Nico as I grappled with uncertainty. People had moved in front of me, so I briefly lost him in the crowd.

  But then… Oh, I found him.

  Even from that distance, I could see him grinding his teeth together as he watched this man dance up on me.

  Then he gave the slightest shake of his head in warning.

  Was it out of jealousy? Did he mistakenly assume that this marriage meant anything? Or that he had the right to tell me who I could and could not dance with?

  We’ll just see about that.

  Maintaining that stranglehold eye contact from before, I leaned back into the man. Not too close, but close enough to get plenty of contact while dodging the growing bulge in his trousers. With every punch of the man’s hips against my backside and with every ass jiggle I responded with—

  Nico stewed.

  With every second that passed, he grew more and more enraged. His shoulders grew tenser, his face turned blacker, his hands balled tighter.

  Why that pleased me immensely, I had no idea. I shouldn’t have been challenging him this way. There was a niggling sense in the back of my mind that I didn’t fully understand the game I was playing.

  Or who I was playing with.

  I wasn’t prepared for the man behind me to band his arm around my waist and forcefully grind against me. I felt all of him.

  My eyes shot wide before I could mask my reaction.

  But with Nico watching me so intently, he saw it.

  The last sight I had of him before more people stepped between us and blocked my vision was of him charging toward us.

  With intent to kill written all over his face.

  That’s right. Come here, baby.

  Christ, my wife was sexy.

  Goddammit, why did I keep referring to Lexi in that term? She wasn’t my actual wife. Yet my dick clearly hadn’t gotten that message. He was standing tall and proud in my pants, readying to stake his claim on the ravishing woman shaking her ass in what might as well have been a striptease for how hard it was getting him.

  I couldn’t believe she was even doing it.

  I’d expected her to take one look at me, toss me the finger, and stomp off in the other direction.

  Instead, her eyes had gone half-lidded when they’d stopped on me. Her tongue had snaked over the rim of her glass, giving me the briefest glimpse of the pretty pink tint to it. Her head had rolled on her neck, showcasing just how long and slender it was. Her creamy skin stood in stark contrast to the black of her clothes, making my mouth water to get it on every inch of her.

  I’d leave no stone unturned.

  No area unlicked.

  When she turned around to show me the eye-fuck that was her back, I nearly roared out a mating call in the middle of this club and went after her, with my dick leading the charge. I wanted nothing more than to rip those criss-crossing ties clean off her body and pound the fuck out of her in front of everyone. In front of all the leering men who wanted what they couldn’t have.

  The mere idea of any one of them touching her had my blood pumping overtime.

  Then one of the motherfuckers actually did touch her.

  The ballsy son of a bitch shot forward when she was coming to me—to me—and pulled her back against him.

  Oh, that’s not fucking happening.

  But again, Lexi did the unexpected.

  I should have seen it coming. Her leaning back into the bastard. Her sultry eyes challenging me with every sway of her hips. It felt like someone was driving an ice pick through my skull every time I saw their hips rock together and make contact. His hands were too close to the juncture of her perfect, slim thighs. His mouth was too close to that neck—the neck she had been arching in my direction. And his dick was way the fuck too close to her luscious ass.

  The sparkle in her eyes said she obviously took great pleasure in fucking with my head.

  When he wrapped his burly arm around her middle, I was seconds away from taking out my blade and slicing off his hands with one fell swoop. I was skilled enough to make it quick and clean.

  Jesus Christ, Rossetti.

  Has jealousy turned you into Jeffrey Dahmer?

  This wasn’t jealousy. That required a person to actually care, which I didn’t. It was just my protective nature, my sense of responsibility toward her, that had me launching myself toward them like I was charging into battle. I hadn’t known her long enough to feel possessive or proprietary. There was no reason to anyway.

  She wasn’t actually mine.

  But she wasn’t anyone else’s either. Not while I was in the picture. Not as long as we had to remain tied together.

  For better or worse, Lexi Kozlov belonged to me until the day we signed those annulment papers.

  She was watching my approach with a fascinated expression, like I was an animal at the fucking zoo.

  I hoped she was happy.

  Because it was her own hand that had let this tiger out of its cage.

  Wrapping my hand around her forearm, I yanked her away from her dancing partner and placed her behind me. The bastard’s head snapped up, a look of outrage transforming his European face. He was no shrimp, but I still had both heig
ht and weight on him.

  Not to mention, he’d put his hands on something that didn’t belong to him. I had enough angry fuel inside me to mow down this entire club, if I had to.

  “She’s with me,” I delivered sharply, raising my voice to be heard over the music.

  He straightened to his full height, his glazed eyes flicking over to Lexi. “Didn’t look like she was with you.”

  “You don’t want to make me say it again.”

  The dumbass snarled. “Or what?”

  I took a step forward, sending him back one. “Walk away.”

  Whether he sensed my don’t even think about fucking with me attitude, or he glimpsed my gun holster underneath my suit jacket—which I wouldn’t even need if he decided to throw down—the man visibly shrank in on himself. On a muttered oath, he slunk off and disappeared into the crowd.

  Cracking my neck, I turned to see Lexi watching the scene with avid interest. Dare I say, she almost looked a little…turned on.

  For about two seconds.

  Then she wiped that tantalizing mixture of emotions from her face and notched up her chin. “I guess you won that dick-measuring contest, huh?”

  I gnashed my teeth without meaning to. “I’m always going to win when it comes to you.”

  Fuck, I hadn’t meant to say that either. It was the first thing that popped into my head and it just slipped out.

  Her mouth went slack.

  I needed to put us back on the same footing we were on before that inconsiderate douchebag ruined our dancing/exhibitionism moment. Snatching up her hand, I spun her around until her pert little ass was nestled snugly against my aching cock.

  “Now, legs…” My hand slid up her bare thigh. My lips grazed the shell of her ear. “Show me what those legs can really do.”

  Was that the music? Or had that breathy moan just come from her?

  A tense moment passed where neither of us moved. I wasn’t above coaxing her, but I would never force her. If she wanted to walk away, so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time since I’d met her that I’d have to release the powder keg inside me with my own hand.

  Twice already I’d had to fuck my own fist with her face swimming in my mind’s eye.

  Once on the plane.

  And once at the villa.

  I grinned lasciviously when she started to move. It felt like the sweetest victory.

  She was tentative at first but quickly grew more confident when I moved with her. Beat by beat, her body began melting against mine, allowing me to take more liberties with my seeking hands. They inched down her thighs, fingering the hem of her shorts. I thrust against her gyrating ass, grinding my stiff erection against her tight crevice.

  She sucked in a breath.

  “Why do you sound so surprised?” I asked gruffly against the soft flesh of her neck. “Wasn’t this what you wanted from me? Weren’t you trying to make my dick hard in a room full of people?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  She’s into this.

  She was fighting her body’s reaction to me…and her mind was losing.

  Her breaths were coming faster. Her hair was beginning to stick to her temples as her entire body heated up. I grinded my pelvis harder, burrowing my shaft between her cheeks. She tried to inch away, but my hand on her hip stayed her. She wasn’t getting away that easily.

  “So, you were just trying to piss me off, then.”

  She took a few moments to answer. “Not in the beginning.”

  Did I even want to know what that meant?

  A big part of me did.

  If she hadn’t been trying to anger me on principle, did that mean she’d actually wanted to get me excited by watching her dance? What the hell did that mean?

  Nothing good. Shut her down.

  When my gaze lowered, I caught sight of her barely-there cleavage. Wasn’t sure why I found that so enticing, but I did. Small breasts had never done it for me in the past. Not that a woman couldn’t do it for me if she wasn’t well-endowed. A tiny bra size just wasn’t something I looked for.

  But seeing Lexi’s little teacups straining against her tight top made me wonder if they’d been properly cared for over the years. Had they been kissed the way they deserved to be? Licked? Loved? With her milk white skin, her nipples would have to be a lighter color. Probably a rosy pink or coral. Of course, they’d be small, too, and would require a lot of attention.

  I ran my hands up her body and cupped them.

  I couldn’t help it. Not knowing the answers to any of those questions was tormenting me.

  “Why have these been driving me so crazy?” I growled.

  Stop talking. You’re revealing too much.

  Never let a woman see how strongly she affected you. It gave her too much power. Too many ideas. Normally, that voice inside my head ran the show. It had gotten me out of a lot of trouble over the years. I never denied its wisdom.

  But right then, it could shut the fuck up.

  “They’re smaller than my hands.” My voice was gravelly as my fingers began to knead. “I shouldn’t want to slick them up with my tongue, should I? Shouldn’t want to suck on them just to see if I could get them hard through all your clothes. Right, legs?”

  She wriggled under my touch. “Stop that.”

  I only tightened my grip. “Why? You were letting him do it.”

  “He wasn’t groping me there.”

  I took her earlobe between my teeth and bit down lightly. Her breath hitched. “He might as well have been. His cock was sliding up and down your ass. You were wiggling yourself on it. A few more minutes and you would have had him coming inside his pants. And you don’t even know him.”

  “I barely know you,” she pointed out, doing her best to dislodge my hands without drawing attention from the people around us.

  “Exactly. So, what’s the difference? Like it or not, legs, I own you for however long your father makes this deal last.”

  “You don’t own m—”

  I gripped her jaw in my hand—not too rough, but not too nice. My temper was threatening to break free of its leash, and she just kept pushing. “Did he make you wet? Did that drunken fuck of a man do it for you? Or were you already wet from dancing for me?” I licked along the shell of her ear, grinning when her nails dug into my arms. “Did knowing you were getting me so hard that I could have fucked you without even unzipping myself soak your panties?”

  Those little teacups heaved in my hands, as if she were offering them to me. The thought made my dick swell. My balls were so tight they were going to explode if I didn’t empty them soon.

  “Or are you even wearing panties?” My hand drifted back down her torso, descending toward her mound. “Maybe I should check, huh?”

  “Stop.”

  I stopped. And ground my teeth together painfully. “Why could he do it, but I can’t touch what’s legally mine?”

  The bubble popped.

  She flung my hands from her body and wheeled sharply around to pierce me with her sapphire stare. “Marriage or not, I’ll never be yours.”

  She never looked back as she marched away.

  I let her go.

  I didn’t know what else to do. Not even forty-eight hours in and my head was already fucked up over this situation. I desperately needed to get it back on straight.

  Thank God, we’d be back in Brooklyn tomorrow.

  Back in my territory where I’d finally be able to get a handle on how the hell I’d gone into Russia a single, carefree bachelor and come out of it an irritated, stressed-out husband with a mind-boggling wife.

  I followed about twenty yards behind her the entire walk back to the villa.

  By the time I fell into bed, the knot in my neck had never been worse.

  Brooklyn, New York. My new home.

  Blyad’.

  How was this even real? How was this happening? I felt like a bloody a mail-order bride, being delivered to my new life like an Amazon package. Guaranteed two-day delivery.

&nb
sp; Nico and I were back to non-speaking terms. He’d had one last business meeting earlier that morning before we left Istria. Then he’d whisked me away on his private jet where we once again flew in stoic silence for most of the trip.

  He’d conducted business, I’d tried to read. He’d made phone calls, I’d attempted to sleep. He’d looked too temptingly handsome in his tailored suit, I did my best not to notice.

  As far as I was concerned, the night before at the club never happened. He seemed to be on the same page. I mean, I wanted to punish the hell out of him for his presumptuous, domineering behavior. But I knew that today marked the beginning of something we’d need to join forces in order to undertake. We didn’t have to like each other to remain married for the next couple—hopefully not more than that—months. We just had to be civil and stay out of each other’s way.

  And not kill each other.

  Me sulking over his crass words would do nothing to help the situation. When I stepped off the plane at the private airport just outside of Brooklyn, I decided I needed to put on my big girl panties and deal with my new circumstances.

  I cleared my throat as we left the airport in the back of another town car. “So, uh, are we heading to your home now?”

  He lifted his gaze from his phone to toss me a side glance, seeming baffled that I was even speaking to him. And rightly so. “Yes,” he answered, sounding a tad wary. “I live in an area of Brooklyn called Bay Ridge.”

  I perked up a little. “It’s near the water?”

  His finger paused over his phone’s screen. “Yes. Right on the East River.”

  I’d always wanted to live near the water. I didn’t know why. The ocean, a lake, a river, hell, I’d take a pond. I’d just always liked the idea of looking out my window to a view like that.

  I did my best to conceal my nerves as we traveled closer and closer to our destination. I didn’t want him to see how out of sorts I was, but I couldn’t deny my level of anxiety had risen ever since we’d touched down on U.S. soil.

  “I hope you have enough room for me.”

  Silence. “Sorry?”

  Just as I’d watched the Russian countryside flash past the windows as we’d left my father’s estate, I took in my new surroundings. And the cityscape of Brooklyn couldn’t have been more different from Batya’s sprawling country property.