An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) (30 page)

Her eyes flipped up to meet his when she heard a hiss. His lids were down low over molten silver, his chest pumping, his many tattoos seemingly alive as his shoulders rose and fell. His biceps bunched when he placed his hand on her ass and pulled her closer to the edge of the table, her skin squeaking across the surface. Her pulsing core bore down on his waiting shaft. He didn’t stop, but sheathed himself in one fluid pump as deep inside her as he could go. Her high-pitched mewl was lost when he took her mouth. Pleasure flooded her as he stretched her. So much pleasure.

“My princess . . . so hot . . . luscious . . . tight and perfect,” he said against her lips as he began moving, pulling out and sinking back in a rhythm that wasn’t the slow and steady she’d experienced before. No. Maksim gave her no time to savor, just to experience. Sensations battered her as he did what he’d said he was going to do. He fucked her. He owned her. And she loved it.

“Sydney. Fuck, don’t help yet.” He gripped her hips, stilling her from keeping up with the pace he set. “I need to do this. I need it. Have to know I’m in control of it this time.”

Her breath coming in little gasps as she tried to push down on the feeling once more climbing, the euphoria, that beautiful tension returning, she released his shoulders and leaned back on her hands. “Fine,” she whispered, trying not to let her eyes roll in her head. “Take what you need.”

And he did. Her powerful Russian took everything she had to give and demanded more. He took from her on the table before introducing her back to the wall again. Once he’d had enough of that, and she’d caught her breath after her second orgasm, he fell onto his broad back on the sofa and effortlessly worked her writhing form on top of him, alternating between holding her suspended over his hips so he could thrust up into her and then giving his mouth another turn, making her moan and gasp until her throat hurt. He touched her everywhere, claimed every inch of her skin, right down to her ankles, driving her on until she was utterly consumed with pleasure.

They ended up back on the chaise longue, him finally settling himself on top of her, their chests meeting as he entered her again. He held her eyes. “You’re sore,” he said when she winced slightly. His voice was deliciously rough, his shoulders practically shimmering from the light sheen of perspiration covering them. Slippery from it, it was the most erotic thing to feel their bodies sliding against each other, the glide so delicious.

“Sensitive,” she corrected.

“Fantastic.” He slowly licked across her lips as he burrowed his fingers into her hair so that he could hold her head steady.

Luckily, because she would have thrashed again when his hips went on an angle and he hit that spot deep inside that made her eyes tear up. “Agreed. This was worth making you wait.”

He breathed out a deep, quiet laugh that came so easily it caused goose bumps to rise on the backs of her arms. “Brat. My sanity disagrees.” He withdrew until he was almost free of her and then slid home. She lifted her hips to meet him.

“You have to admit it wouldn’t be this good if I’d given in that first night.” She shook herself free of his hold so she could stretch up and nibble on his earlobe, circling her tongue around the diamond stud in his ear.

“I’ll admit nothing of the sort. It would have still been me and you, so it would have definitely been this good.” A shudder passed through him when she moved over to nip playfully at the thick corded muscle running up from his shoulder. She soothed him with another slow lick.

Sydney tried as hard as she could not to let those words get to her. She couldn’t take the things he said to heart. Had to remember he’d most likely said them all before.

“You hiding from me?” He spread his hand out on her throat and used his finger and thumb on her jaw to bring her face out from his neck. “Don’t. I get to see it all. Because it’s mine right now, and I’m very greedy.” He trailed his fingers down until he burrowed between them to find her swollen bundle of nerves. The tremor that shook her nearly unseated him. “Easy, princess,” he soothed, rubbing a smooth, wet circle that guaranteed she couldn’t take it easy. “Now it’s time for you to bring me down. How hard can you take it?”

Her hips rose involuntarily, and any response to the crazy question became lost in the sounds his now-thrumming fingers wrung from her.

“That hard?” he chuckled.

She was pretty sure she nodded enthusiastically and then climaxed with a vengeance when he gave it to her “that hard.”

The calm that settled over Maksim after finally claiming his Aussie was all-encompassing. He was clear and capable again. Rooted and ready to deal. He felt as if he were an alpha who’d just reigned victorious over his chosen female.
What the fuck is with you and your animal references when it comes to her?

Didn’t know. Didn’t care. He was just glad he was himself again as he carried her ridiculously insubstantial weight into the bedroom she was using. He tossed her into the middle of the bed, grinning when she squeaked in surprise because she was airborne for a few seconds before hitting the soft mattress and bouncing. He followed her down, going right for those beautiful breasts. He’d just taken one between his lips when his phone went off in the other room.
Fuck.

Springing up, knowing now was not the time to ignore any calls, he jogged out, cupping his junk, and walked back in as he read the text, then looked at the picture.

His blood ran cold, and he stopped at the foot of the bed, nodding. “Really, motherfucker?” he murmured. “Come get some.”

“Um, as far as endearments go, that one needs some work,” Sydney complained as she crawled across the bed toward him, looking like a little jungle cat. The smattering of bruises on her shoulder blades and ribs caught his eye, and he felt his monsters writhe, wanting out so they could play rough with the Mexican. “But I’ll accept the invitation if you really want me to.”

He snagged her wrist midair and pulled her up, because if he allowed her to start what he was pretty sure she’d been about to start, the phone would be out the window, and he’d be engaged for some time with that warm mouth of hers.

“Get your things together and get dressed, lover,” he said, forcing his voice to be even. “We’re moving tonight after all.” He yanked her against him, rubbed her lithe little body across his front as though he could memorize the feel of it, kissed her hard, and then went back out to grab his clothes. As he called in support, he made a side trip to the spare bedroom and got a new shirt.

“What’s going on?” Sydney asked when she met him a few minutes later, dressed in jeans, a satiny black V-neck shirt, and knee-high boots. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and she had her leather duffel over her shoulder. Her afterglow was dazzling.

“You look like a teenager.”

Her brow went up. “Fantasy of yours? I have kneesocks and could braid my hair next time,” she offered with a sultry little wink.

His mouth went crooked and he shook his head. “Pass. I’d rather you allow me to bind you and control your every move,” he countered.

“Okay.”

He groaned and forced himself to toss her jacket over. She caught it with a lazy, relaxed smile that he hated to kill but had no choice.

Shrugging his coat on, he showed her the message he’d received from one of the boys he had stationed at Pant. “The photo was given to your bartender by some random who said a guy fitting Morales’s description paid him twenty bucks to deliver it.” He rolled his eyes. “An actual photograph. Who wastes their time printing photographs anymore?”

Her eyes narrowed on the picture of a high-rise. “What is it?”

“This building.”

Her brow wrinkled, and then her head snapped up. “Eberto knows I’m here?”

“He knows
we’re
here.”

She looked toward the door as though expecting the fuck to come busting in. Maks wished. He’d smoke him and be back in bed with her within ten minutes.

“Rather than wait until morning—because in all honesty, the asshole can bomb the first level of the building and cause a lot of unnecessary trouble—and since it’s not yet midnight, you’re going to piss your kid off by ruining his party. We’re picking him up on our way out to Old Westbury.”

“What’s in Old Westbury?”

“The most secure place in existence.”

Sydney nodded and took out her phone to make the call. No questions. No hesitation.

He had to give it to her; she
was
rocking his world.

CHAPTER 19

Sitting in the back of a luxurious black Escalade with Gabriel Moretti, of all people, who was in the passenger seat next to a handsome Asian man he’d called Quan, Sydney laughed. The sound came out quiet and tense as she put her hand over her son’s motormouth—he’d just finished describing in great detail the pros and cons of every Xbox game he and his friends had played tonight. They’d picked Andrew up from his sleepover without any fuss and were on the freeway heading to what she’d only now realized was Maksim’s home.

“What did you have for a snack while playing, a bowl of refined sugar and a spoon? Take a breath, sweetie.” She kissed the top of Andrew’s head and looked over him to see Maksim watching her. “Sorry, he gets—”

“Don’t,” he said, his face flashing and darkening under the passing lights. He looked amused. “Let him go. It’s good to hear normal stuff for a change.”

She let the stopper out, and then sat back and tried to relax as she listened to her son’s jabber, quite a lot of which was ending with
Right, Russia
? Or
Tell her, Russia
.

“You still okay with him calling you that?” she asked during a short reprieve when Andrew bent over his phone to answer a text from Daniel.

Maksim put his arm across the back of the seat and tugged on a lock of her hair. “He’s fine. Stop worrying.” To Andrew he said, “Don’t get offended if I tell you to shut it, kid. It just means I’m thinking.”

“No worries. Hey, do you have stars on your knees, Russia? I wanted to bet Daniel that you do but didn’t ’cause I told you I wouldn’t talk about you.”

“Andrew!” Sydney gasped, hearing the two men in the front chuckle. She was tempted to quickly tell her son that, yes, there were stars on Maksim’s knees, and his shoulders, but didn’t dare.

“What would you know about stars on the knees, kid?” Maksim asked, seemingly unbothered by the invasive question.

“They mean you’ll kneel to no man, right?”

Her Russian’s brows came down as he studied the boy between them, but she couldn’t read his expression. “Right. How do you know that?”

“Remember I told you about that movie? The guy had the stars done, and we Googled what they meant after.”

“Reeeally.”

Sydney felt her face burn. When
the hell
had Andrew squealed on her about that movie she’d conned him into watching with her a few weeks ago? She kept her head turned away and looked out the window at a semi driving next to them. If they were going to blow a tire and go off the road, now would be a good time.

“So? Do you have them?” Andrew pressed.

“Yes, I do. On my knees and on my shoulders. The knees you know, but having them inked on the shoulders signifies being a man of discipline and tradition. Some would say status also, but that’s not me. I also have some religious figures here and there. A mere mortal needs all the help he can get,” he chuckled. “But listen, kid.” He bumped his closed fist on Andrew’s knee. “You don’t ask my boys about their artwork. Understand? I don’t mind talking about it, but some of them might. Especially Micha. Don’t ask him about anything other than the weather.”

“Gotcha. You ever been in jail?”

Sydney groaned and slumped down, banging her head on the back of the seat as she covered her face with her hands. “An-dreew!”

Gabriel looked back. “Don’t worry about it,” he said to her, not even trying to hide his enjoyment. “It’s karma for all the awkward questions he’s asked people over the years.”

Maksim kicked the bottom of the seat. “I should have called Alek,” he drawled before answering her son as honestly as he always did. “I did some time for assault when I was nineteen and too stupid to know how to control my temper. I’ve never been back.”

She blinked behind her hands and wondered how he’d handled being incarcerated considering his past.

“Wow. That must have been hard to be locked up,” Andrew said. “For someone like you, I mean.”

Dropping her hands, Sydney straightened and glanced over at the altered, now serious, tone of her son’s voice to see Maksim looking at her, his face hard. Did he think she’d told Andrew about his history? She could have sworn the volume on the radio also went down a notch or two.

“What do you mean ‘someone like me’?”

Andrew shrugged and yanked on his left ear, finally looking a little uncomfortable. “I just meant you’re a leader. It must have sucked taking orders from the guards. Daniel’s uncle is at Rikers. He had a restaurant and he had people without their papers working for him and lied to the judge about it.”

“He employed undocumented immigrants and perjured himself when he denied knowing about their status,” Sydney modified, adding under her breath, “among other things.” She’d heard through the school’s grapevine that Daniel’s uncle had also failed to pay his taxes for more than a few years.

Andrew nodded. “Right. Daniel’s mom told him the guards are really mean and they sometimes hit the guys in the cells just because they can. Did they hit you, Russia?”

The grin that tipped Maksim’s goatee at the corners was grim. “Negative. No one bothered me, kid.”

“Didn’t think so. So, do you guys have a dog? Is your house big? You wouldn’t by any chance have an indoor pool, would you?”

And so the drive continued, the conversation tapering to snatches here and there. Maksim’s phone rang just as they hit the off-ramp.

“Yeah. Hey, brother. Yeah, I have time. Go ahead.”

He listened for a while as Quan left the two-lane road after a short stretch to travel through a set of heavy iron gates that automatically propelled open at their approach. Sydney looked down the drive but couldn’t see any type of building, let alone a house. Not even lights in the distance.

How wealthy was Maksim? She wondered for the first time. She’d assumed he had money, since the suits he wore were designer and had to cost somewhere in the thousands, but she’d never really given it much thought. As they kept driving, and driving, she was thinking about it now. And when a stunning two-story monstrosity finally came into view beyond a circular drive that had a gorgeous fountain in the center and a six-bay garage off to the side, she realized he might just be in league with her parents. Until she remembered that he shared the house with his friends.

“That’s not how it works.” His deep voice pulled her attention from his residence. His brow was down low, gaze looking straight ahead. “It’s more . . . how do I put this? Okay. As the energy from the blast travels outward from the source, it diminishes. Or attenuates, if you have a dictionary handy. The farther out it goes, the affected area increases and the energy becomes widely dispersed. Basically, the amplitude of the vibration from the blast can be expected to decrease by approximately two-thirds for every doubling of the distance. So, if the building you’re targeting is far enough away from others in the immediate vicinity, they shouldn’t suffer any structural damage from the C-4. Not unless they’re close enough for the vibration to reach them. Got it? Yeah. No problem. Later.”

The SUV came to a halt, and they all climbed out—Sydney’s brain hurt from trying to understand even a portion of what had just been said. When “Bill Nye the Science Guy” sauntered up beside her with her bag slung over his shoulder, she drew him aside. “I never really thought this through,” she said, looking up at the golden glow coming from what looked like dozens of windows. “Will your friends mind us invading their space? Their women . . .” She shrugged. “Maybe you should have called ahead and warned them.”

His brow went up with that arrogance she’d once thought he’d been born with. Now she knew differently. “This is
my
house, lover.”

“But it’s theirs, too,” she argued quietly, goose bumps popping up because that title was now accurate. God, was it accurate. He’d been . . . wow. He’d been . . .

“Hello?”

She blinked and came back to find him looking down at her with a knowing little grin. “Where were you? Or should I ask, which part were you reliving?”

Her mouth twisted by habit, and she spoke without thinking. “The part where I lifted the lid of the Dumpster and threw the bag in. I was simply remembering when I last took out the garbage.” She lifted her chin and looked anywhere but at him. “The ladies of the house . . . ?”

“Liar,” he whispered. But he went on, “The girls have only recently moved in themselves and I didn’t say shit. Not that I would have, because they’re nice. So neither can they—not that they would either, because you’re nice.” He made a low, sexy sound and winked. “
Very
fucking nice. Now come on.”

They went back to the others, and Maksim led the way, tapping something into his phone as they climbed the expansive steps to reach the oversize front door.

“This
is
a big house. What kind of dog was it again, Russia?” Andrew asked, sounding properly awed. She hated that money impressed him, but he was still young.

“Rottweiler. His name is Charlie. He’s safe, but he’s getting big, so watch he doesn’t knock you over. And he likes to eat boots,” Maksim added as he opened the door and brought them into a brightly lit foyer that was impressive but welcoming. Aside from warm honey-colored floor tile, polished mahogany furnishings, and tastefully framed art, her Russian’s influence was immediately seen by way of a life-size statue of a blonde pinup that stood to the right of the door. She was sexily attired in a short red dress and had one heck of a pout beneath her droopy-lidded stare. She held a tray that Quan dropped his keys onto. Sydney had seen the dog butler statues before, but never one like this.

“Hey,” Andrew whispered to her, laughing, “she looks like you, Mom.”

All three men, and her son, looked from her to the statue with long blonde hair and abundant cleavage—which Sydney hadn’t been blessed with. She would stick with her 32-Cs and be on her way. Andrew grinned and moved on to check out some miniature Harley-Davidson models in glass cases that sat on a low table. Quan’s expression remained respectfully blank as he nodded and wandered away. Gabriel simply smiled and raised a dark brow over his ridiculously long eyelashes—his wife must be so jealous. And Maksim frowned.

“She does look like you,” he muttered. “I commissioned her a few years ago from a company in Japan that I stumbled across online when . . . yeah anyway.
That
was unexpected.” He put a hand under her elbow and brought them across the foyer, looking into what was clearly the living room. Seeing it was empty, he kept walking toward the set of double doors that were next to a sweeping staircase leading to the second floor. “The girls must be asleep. You can meet them tomorrow. Charlie, too, because he’ll be upstairs with Nika. Night, G, thanks for the lift.”

Sydney smiled at Gabriel and added her thanks—prodded Andrew to do the same—and then tried not to show a reaction when Maksim opened one of the doors and hit a switch to illuminate stairs leading down.

“It’s okay, Mom.”

“Shh,” Sydney widened her eyes and shook her head.

But Maksim had heard. He stopped and turned. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“What?” he repeated, looking to Andrew.

“The basement. Spiders live in basements,” he stage-whispered. Probably to make her laugh, which it did. Sort of.

“You’re covered then.” Maksim shrugged, pulling them along. “Samnang, our boy wonder, doesn’t stand for shit like that in our place.”

Sydney wasn’t convinced . . . until they descended the polished wood stairs into a gorgeous living space that didn’t seem like a basement at all. It wasn’t gloomy and damp—not that she’d expected a dungeon—but bright and warm, with its chestnut furniture and thick rugs scattered around. The bar had a mirrored back that extended the already-spacious room, and there was a large fireplace, a massive sectional, a fancier-than-average foosball table, and the requisite flat screen found in all homes. Two hallways branched off on either side, and, helping to make it seem as though they were aboveground, there were strategically spaced floating frames on the walls that were backlit with bright images of mountain scenes and gorgeous green landscapes. They looked like windows rather than photographs.

Maksim dropped her bag next to a gigantic aquarium so beautiful it made her want to go for a swim, and brought them to the left, showing them a gym the size of her loft and a room she wished he hadn’t put on the tour because it reminded Sydney of a hospital. Down the other corridor was a theater room that would seat a dozen people with no trouble at all, two spacious bedrooms, and a massive computer room that rivaled Tony Stark’s. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen in a private home. The last room they looked into was a bathroom that housed a lap pool and dry sauna. Andrew’s eyes lit up.

Finally Maksim pointed to a door at the end of the corridor. “My private space. You don’t enter unless I’m with you—at least until I get all my toys put away in the gun safe. You either, Mom,” he drawled with a glint in his eye. He then excused himself, asking for an hour before disappearing into the computer room.

Since it was late, Sydney wasted no time getting Andrew settled into the king-size bed in his allocated room, which was directly across from the one she’d been given.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “This bed is like a football field.”

“It’s awesome. But I’m good. Why are we here, Mom? Every time I ask, you guys change the subject.”

She tried not to react. “Really, sweetie, it’s just that same thing,” she said vaguely, afraid to tell him too much in case she frightened him. She got up and kissed the bruise on his forehead that made her feel awful every time she looked at it. “I love you, baby,” she whispered.

“Love you, too.”

“So, who are you going to watch tonight?” she asked as a distraction. She reached over and picked his phone up from the nightstand to turn it on. He took it when she handed it to him and mentioned a famous YouTuber. Each night, she allowed him to set his timer and watch twenty minutes before it was lights-out.

“He’s the Swedish gamer with the pretty girlfriend?”