An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) (34 page)

“Do you think you were a good enough girl for me to give you what you want?” he repeated, coming back to English.

“Yes. Yes, I was. I am.” She squirmed, hitting him just right.

“Yes, you most definitely are. Say my name.”

“Maksim,” she whispered.

“Again, lover.” He cupped her breasts and rolled her nipples.

“Maksim,
please
.”

He grabbed the base of his cock and entered her in slow increments, with a gentleness that wasn’t part of the game. She mewled like a kitten once he was seated to the hilt, but he could barely enjoy it.

Because she finished what she’d started last time. He felt as though he were burning alive; she was branding him, putting her mark on him, destroying his chance at pleasure with any other but her. That made anger rise in him. Made him feel trapped. As though she was doing this, limiting him, bringing him under her control, on purpose. As though that had been her plan all along. Everything about her, from her size, her looks, her attitude, her strength, her vulnerability, all of it, even her being a mother. Right from the beginning, she’d done nothing but draw him in. It was as if she’d been designed to ruin him, because the more he saw, the more he wanted. The more he knew of her, the more he wanted to know. Even the fucking wasn’t “fucking” because it was just too goddamn sublime. She’d completed the capture. He was under her spell. His choice taken from him, the deal done.

That knowledge made him harsh and not very nice.

“You little witch,” he growled. In a sharp movement, he jerked her head to his shoulder with a firm grip on her jaw, and her tight pussy onto his cock with a hand pressed across her abdomen. He pumped hard into her only a handful of times, and she was crying out, her fingers curling into claws on his stomach, her nails sinking in as she came again, giving him number two.

“I . . . Oh my . . . fuck . . . I can’t . . .” Her voice cracked as her body bowed, her inner muscles pulled at his length, tightening and releasing.

Maksim frowned and drew back. Slowly he closed that distance again and rubbed his jaw on her temple. It came away wet. With her tears. And his helpless anger disappeared. Just that quickly. He slowed his thrusts, gentled his hold on her, and relaxed the grip he had around her waist, all without any thought but soothing her. “What is it, Sydney?”

“No, please don’t,” she pleaded as a tear rolled off her chin to splash on his forearm. “Hold me tight. Like you were. Hold me together.” She grasped at his hips, trying to pull him tighter into her back in an effort to show him what she wanted. “I can’t . . . handle you without that. You’re just too much. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop what you’re doing to me. I need more from you.” Her body rippled in a stunning wave, and she was suddenly riding him, sliding backward and forward in a quick stroke that nearly brought him to his knees. “Yes. Please, Maksim. This. I need what you’re doing.”

Clenching his teeth through the sheer bliss of her movements, he blocked that something in his chest that was trying its damnedest to burst free. This wasn’t fucking at all; he knew then. Not when he could see the trust laid bare in her eyes when she looked up at him, the eagerness, the sheer pleasure.

“Okay, lover,” he couldn’t help but whisper into her hair as he took over. “I’ll give you what you need.”

His touch on her was still firm and sure but deferential now as he pushed her forward to run his hand up her arched back. He pressed the release on each cuff, and they fell away as he sent his fingers up to rub her shoulders. She groaned quietly, and he traveled around to the front of her body to cup and knead her breasts, pinching her nipples between finger and thumb as he moved in and out of her. All the while he held her snug against his chest and between his biceps. One of her hands slapped on the wall, the other encircled his waist, and the sounds she made as she used the leverage to take him deep became quiet wails of enjoyment. She was vocal and incredible.

The thought had him moving even slower, and with each fluid thrust he fell deeper and deeper into this woman, into her body and her spirit.

“It’s okay to touch you?” She looked up at him over her shoulder, biting her lip. “I’m sorry—I didn’t wait.”

“Touch me anywhere you want. Right fucking now.”

Her nails sunk into his hip, and at the same time she brought her other hand between their legs to trail her fingertips up his inner thigh so she could gently cup his testicles.
Game over.
He swiftly separated them and flipped her onto the bed, her hair flying all around them for a split second. She landed on her back with a surprised little squeal, and before he could fully enjoy the smile that flashed on her face, he was on her, devouring her mouth as he connected their bodies again. He lifted her into him with a hand between her shoulder blades, flexing his arm until not a breath could come between them. He pumped inside her, reveling in the feeling of her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, her hips rolling in perfect time with his, taking everything he was giving. She brought their foreheads together and pulled her mouth away from his so she could breathe. Their gazes locked and stayed as she held him tightly around his neck, fingers gripping his hair. When she inadvertently pulled, a growl came from his chest, sounding like an animal was in the room with them.

“Maksim . . . ?”

“Right here, lover. We’re golden.”

His name came from her again as she cried out. She moaned, head falling back, lids sliding closed to break that connection between them. Pride was a living thing inside him that it was he who was giving Sydney this pleasure. What was happening here wasn’t shrouded in titles and rules and limits. He was getting off on loving her just as he was, without the inflexible regimens he normally held on to for dear life in the bedroom. It was normally much more distanced than this. What he and Sydney were doing wasn’t. This was warm. Hot.

Hot and goddamn beautiful.

Her eyes opened as he lowered her back to the bed, reducing the speed of his thrusts. His elbows sank into the mattress on either side of her, and, with his thumbs, he wiped at the moisture at her temples.

Expression dazed, she left a trail of fire down his ribs, bringing her hands around his back to make his dreams come true.
Scraaatttccchhh.

“Nearly had my fill,” he murmured as he came down to taste the drop of moisture pooling in the indent at the base of her throat. So sweet, her taste. “But I’m sensing number three, and that’s always been a lucky number for me.”

She laughed, and he did get that third out of her before he was through, joining her in that final climax, spinning through a too-powerful vortex of sensation. Even his orgasm was different. Crippling. Frenzied. Almost damaging to the soul. Or was that repairing? He was too lost to know for sure.

They collapsed onto his tangled sheets, limbs slippery and weak, and Maksim knew he was well and truly fucked.

And he wasn’t talking about the sex.

CHAPTER 22

After a surprisingly intimate and unexpected cuddle, Sydney watched Maksim disappear into the bathroom. She pulled the duvet up to her chin and moaned quietly. The second she’d looked over her shoulder and seen him standing behind her, ravenously staring at her on her hands and knees, her trust given, Sydney had gotten a sinking feeling deep in her heart.

Now she knew, was absolutely positive, she’d made an enormous mistake. The principal one in her life to date.

She should have listened to herself and stayed away from this Russian. She should have covered her ears when he’d told her of his past, and remained ignorant of any understanding of his promiscuous behavior that had so bothered her. She should have held on to her antipathy—arrogant or not.

Instead, I fell in love.

She moaned again, a sound of fear. How could this be? She couldn’t love him.

You won’t touch me unless I give you permission. If I do and then say stop, you take your hands off and settle back until I tell you to go again.

When he’d said that to her in the beginning, it was all she could do to hide the fact that she’d wanted to burst into tears and just smother him with the love that had blazed in her chest. Was he aware how transparent his need to protect himself was? Did he know it shadowed almost everything he did? As she was only now coming to see.

She bit her thumbnail. Knowing she loved Maksim didn’t really change anything. It wasn’t as if there was a happily ever after for her and a Russian mobster. So she’d keep it simple. Enjoy the explosive, incredible sex. Mmm . . . And do the best she could when their time came to an end.

Swallowing the lump that rose in her throat, Sydney slipped out of the bed, knowing Andrew would be back soon. Dwelling on another screwup on her part wouldn’t change anything, so after gathering her clothes, she carefully opened the bedroom door. When she saw the coast was clear, she tiptoed down the hall and ducked into the bathroom to clean up.

Ten minutes later, she heard Maksim fly by and bound up the stairs. Alarmed, she smoothed her hair one last time and followed.

Maksim pushed the lever to cut the water and stepped out of the shower. His back was stinging in a few places, and every time it registered, it gave him a rush.

Drying off, he grabbed his phone as it rang, his lip curving when he saw the number that flashed. “Hey. You’ve all but disappeared lately. What’s with that?”

“Maksim.”

The urge to smile fled when he heard the coarse sound to Tegan’s normally playful voice. “T? What’s wrong?”

“Eberto . . .”

The bathroom mirror reflected the alarm that slammed into his expression. “Eberto what? Where are you? Did he hurt you?”
Oh, no. No, no, no.

“He was in my car when I got out of work. He said he’d be back. He wants Sydney.” She sniffled, proving she was crying, and that was more alarming than her words. Tegan wasn’t a crier. She was tough. A survivor.

“Where are you, T?” he demanded as he threw on his clothes. “Are you at your place?”

“It sounded like he was leaving town,” she said without answering him. “I found a paper in my car after he left that he must have dropped, and it has flight information that I’ll text to you. Maksim?”

He stilled with his hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“I don’t want to see you for a while. Okay? Please don’t come here.”

He stood there for a long moment, his skin shrinking. He didn’t know what to do with that. “T, I can’t not come to you.”

“Don’t. Please.”

“Tell me what he did to you.”

“He didn’t hurt me. The knife he held to my throat left a small cut, but . . .”

His eyes closed, and his forehead hit the door.

“I just don’t want to see you. Please tell the others to stay away, too. Okay? I . . . shouldn’t have been involved in this.”

He agreed. He agreed so hard his knees weakened. “I’m so sorry, Tegan. I don’t know how he found out about our connection. We’re all so careful to keep you separate from . . . this.”

“Yeah, well. I’ll call you when I’m not so upset. Bye, Maks.”

The silence in his ear filled him with horror. Tegan was one of the best friends he’d ever had. The thought that she’d suffered an attack had rage blowing a hole through his control. What had that fucker done to her? A vicious sound rose in his throat as he banged his way out of his room and raced up the stairs. The main bathroom door had been shut, signifying where Sydney had ended up. He found Gabriel and Eva in the kitchen with Vasily and Alek, all of them standing around the island snacking from a tray of sandwiches and veggies Samnang had left out. The boys were eating; Eva was fussing over her father’s face. It looked as if the guy had gouged two fingers of eye black and smeared it down from the inside corners of his eyes.

“Eberto went after Tegan,” Maks snarled.

The boys’ reactions matched his, and the tension in the air hit critical in one breath.

“What did he do?” Alek demanded, normally unflappable expression instantly vicious.

Maks relayed the conversation he’d just had and then backhanded a gourd that sat on the counter, sending it flying across the room to splatter on the cupboards next to the fridge.

“Let’s go,” Gabriel said, grabbing Eva’s arm.

Maks shook his head and stepped in front of them. “She specifically said she doesn’t want to see any of us. She asked me to tell all of you not to go by—me included. Said she shouldn’t have been involved in this. Holy
fuck
!” he shouted. “How the fuck did he know she was connected to us?”

“Presumably, the same way the Baikovs found out about Kathryn,” Vasily said. “The same way too much of our information is showing up where it shouldn’t be.”

Maks pushed his knuckles into the counter and leaned on them until they cracked. “When I find that snitch, I’m going to rip his fucking head off with my bare hands. I don’t care who he is.”

“Get in line, son,” his Pakhan murmured as he waved someone forward.

Maks turned to see Sydney, pale as a ghost, standing in the doorway. Guilt emanated from her.

Doing his best to calm the subtle vibration that had been buzzing along his nerve endings for the past fifteen minutes, Lore knocked again. Why wasn’t Tegan answering the door?

She fell asleep
, he tried to tell himself again. But he knew she hadn’t. She’d told him she’d be staying up because her shifts were changing and she’d be reverting back to days. He knew what a bitch it was to flop back and forth. He looked at his watch. Besides, she was expecting him.

In the shower?

That was why he’d sat and waited for eight of the fifteen minutes without knocking again. If she’d been showering, she’d be out by now.

He took his phone out and texted her. The new phone he’d picked up for her was a light weight in his pocket. He’d figured since he’d been responsible for hers breaking, the least he could do was replace it.

Everything okay?

The muffled sound of her chime came through the door. She
was
home. He knew it. Why the fuck wasn’t she answering then? He’d spoken to her not even two hours ago, and she’d been fine with him. Had even sounded as though she were as anxious to see him as he was to see her.

A minute later, he’d received no response to the text.

What. The. Fuck.

He banged loudly on the door, not caring if the neighbors heard now. In that moment, he became who he was, an NYPD detective right to the fucking bone. “Tegan? Are you in there? Are you okay?”

“Please go home, Lore.”

A tremor started up in his lower belly and spread outward. Her voice.
Oh no.
He knew damn well what that note in a woman’s voice meant. He’d heard it enough to pick it off in two syllables. The cowed, fearful, despondent tone was unmistakable.

“T? Open the door for me.”

Nothing.

“I’m going to drive your neighbors nuts and probably bring them out to yell at me until I see for myself that you’re okay,” he warned.

It took a few moments, but the sound of the chain sliding off had him stepping back. Now was not a good time to appear aggressive.

Alarm nailed him, because the woman who opened the door to him was not the woman he’d left the other morning on the sidewalk out in front of the hospital. She wasn’t the one he’d called earlier because he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

He came forward, and she stepped back, and he was convinced then that someone had indeed done something to his little ray of sunshine. He forced himself to take another step even though it pained him to see her retreat again. He closed the door behind him.

“Please tell me who did this to you, T.”

Her bruised-looking, red-rimmed eyes flashed up. “Did what?” she asked hoarsely.

“Hurt you. I can see that you’re hurt. Tell me what happened.”

She shuddered and wrapped the oversize robe she was wearing over her clothes tighter around her torso. Lore wanted to tear the fucking place apart until he found a clue as to what had happened to her.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she said as she went and sat on the edge of the sofa.

“Who?” He followed, making sure to move slowly, and took the chair, knowing she’d want distance right now. Her hair fell forward to hide her face. Hated that. And it was wet, which meant she’d showered. What had she been trying to wash away?

The possibilities skewered him, and for the first time in Lorenzo’s life, he regretted the restraints being a cop put on him. If Tegan had been sexually assaulted—as every indicator was pointing toward—and he had to go to some doctor’s home and arrest him in front of his plastic wife and two-point-five kids . . . and then learn the fucker’s attorney had gotten him off because of a technicality and Tegan would be forced to see the bastard at work every day, a man who’d forced himself on her . . .

Taking a breath around the fireworks going off in his periphery, Lore slowed his roll around a startling realization. If she gave him a name and confirmed his suspicions right then, he wouldn’t be calling this one in.

Dishonor rose up in him, making his temples pound at what he knew he
would
be doing. At who he knew he
would
be calling.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she repeated, sounding as though she was trying to convince herself of that.

“He may not have hurt you physically, but your light is out, sweetheart, and I need to know who has to pay for making that happen.”

Her head came up, her blue eyes becoming luminescent as they filled and then overflowed. “Oh, Lore,” she whispered, her chin trembling. “I have no one to blame but myself.”

Spoken like a true victim
, he thought as he inched his way onto the sofa and put his hand, palm up, on the cushion between them.
Take it
, he willed her.

It took her more than a minute of quiet tears trailing down her smooth cheeks, but she eventually placed hers in it, and that was all he could ask of her for now.

It was late afternoon when the main door slamming had everyone’s head swinging toward the sound. Vasily had been called away, so it was Maks comforting a guilt-ridden Sydney while Eva and Gabriel sat on the other sofa talking quietly. Nika was now standing in V’s regular spot over by the French doors, playing with her hair with one hand and petting Charlie’s head with the other. She and Vincente had returned earlier, telling Sydney that Jak had asked if he could partner up with Andy for a roam through the woods since they were already out. Maks had actually texted Jak and asked him to keep the kid occupied because the atmosphere in the house was tenebrous. Especially after Maks received Tegan’s text outlining Eberto’s fleeing of the goddamned country. The spineless fuck had bailed and would be in Mexico by tomorrow morning, according to the flight information.