Kissing The Enemy (7 page)

A
s soon as
his lips touched mine, I could feel the animal hunger in him. Ferocious, savage: he didn’t just want me, he
needed
me. It made me go weak inside and the feeling was as unfamiliar as it was fantastic. I’d had so many years of being hard, of never showing weakness for a second, that being just...
overcome
was incredible.
This is what it’s meant to be like.
This is what I’d been missing from all the Russian men Vasiliy had tried to set me up with.

His kisses were soft and brutal, tasting me and directing me, pushing me one way then the other so that he could sample every inch of my lips. The kisses got faster and I felt his hands tighten on my waist, his lips working down across my cheek and then along my jaw, tilting my head up and back. Each kiss was a little explosion of pleasure, my breathing notching faster and faster along with his. Both of us were sliding fast, out of control—

He broke the kiss and put his mouth to my ear, his stubble brushing my cheek as he pushed my head to the side. “
Sei bellissima,”
he said. I didn’t know much Italian, but even I knew that meant
you’re beautiful.
A warm glow rippled out from my center, slamming into the pleasure and making it flare even hotter.

His hand slid up my back, captured my hair, still in a bun, and pulled it down, his grip firm but not painful. My chin tilted up to the sky and he kissed down my throat, each touch of his lips soft and measured but full of barely-restrained power, like putting your hand on the hood of a sports car and feeling the throb of the engine. His whole body was pushed up against me from his chest to his thighs and I could feel the hard bulk of him dwarfing me. I grabbed for his upper arms and found every muscle had gone tense: God, he was having to try so hard just to hold himself back….

He pushed my head to the side again. When he spoke into my ear, the low rasp of his voice made me catch my breath. “I need you,” he said. “I fucking need you. I have to have you.” Then he drew back and I realized he was looking at me. I opened my eyes, stared up into his, and I saw him frowning. “What have you
done
to me?” he growled.

I didn’t have an answer. I just stared up at him, my hair still gripped in his hand.

“You’re making me nuts. I can’t get you out of my head.” He kissed me again, open-mouthed and hungry, his tongue dancing with mine for long seconds. Then he drew back and stared at me again, still frowning...but the lust was winning, those brown eyes burning with it. “I can’t stop thinking about what I’m going to do to you.”

I’d never heard a voice like his before: so heavy and deep, every word loaded with intent. He said something and
it was going to happen.

He leaned very close, his lips right on my ear, his hot breath making me tremble. His voice was strained with lust. “I’m going to throw you down on your bed and strip every fucking stitch of clothing off you.” His hands were hard on my waist, holding me like he never wanted to let go. “Then I’m going to kiss you.
All over.
Starting on your mouth and all the way down to here.”

His free hand cupped my groin and my eyes fluttered closed. The layers of clothing between us were irrelevant: I could feel his touch throbbing straight through, his palm against the softness of my folds. My breath caught in my chest and a rippling, white-hot ribbon of pleasure snaked up inside me, making me arch. His hand pressed a little harder and I gasped...and found myself pushing back against him, the pleasure pulsing and changing, turning to hot slickness.

I suddenly remembered where we were. My eyes opened but all I could see was Angelo: he was so big, he blocked out everything behind him. Behind me was the tree. I twisted my head to the side and felt my eyes go wide as I saw the passing cars. “We can’t do this,” I mumbled. “Not here.”

He frowned, glanced at the traffic and turned back to me. “Who gives a fuck about
them?”

He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, so fast and so hard that I would have lost my footing if he hadn’t been holding me. Then he pushed me face-first up against the tree. He moved up tight behind me so that I was sandwiched between him and the trunk again. The hard wood pressed right against my groin.

He tugged the collar of my coat down a little so that he could kiss the back of my neck. I felt his hands at my waist, loosening the belt that held my coat closed and then diving inside. I heard his gasp of surprise when he realized I was still in my leotard: I’d just thrown a pair of jeans and my coat over the top. His hands slid over my denim-covered hips and then squeezed my ass. I groaned and pressed my thighs together, excitement and fear twisting together and merging into something stronger.

His mouth at my ear again. “You tell me if you want me to stop.”

One hand started to rise, skimming up over the smooth Lycra of my leotard and tracing the shape of my breasts. I’d closed my eyes when he started kissing my neck, but they came open when I felt his fingertips on the warm skin just above my collarbone. His hand pushed down, under the edge of my leotard and its built-in bra. My breathing quickened. God...he wasn’t going to—

He was.
I gasped, my eyes going wide as he palmed my breast, a deep, hot throb of pleasure twisting down through me. I writhed against him, which rubbed my groin against the hard trunk of the tree and the pleasure tightened and grew. I thought about telling him to stop:
God...we’re right out on the street!

But at that moment, his other hand brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek and stroked me there, calming me, and then his thumb slid across my lips and it felt
so good….
I gave myself up to it, my eyes closing.

He started to lightly squeeze my breast and my breath hissed from between my parted lips
in time to his rhythm. Then he began to rub his thumb across my nipple and the pleasure spiraled in on itself, thrumming through my body and pooling in my groin. My nipple stiffened more and more with every touch until it was achingly hard, each touch of his thumb making me catch my breath. I realized I was pushing my ass back against his groin and I could feel the hardness of his cock outlined through his pants.

I knew that most of what he was doing to me was hidden by our clothes and his body, but anyone looking closely would have a pretty good idea what was going on. It made my cheeks flare red...but it made the pleasure strum through me faster, as well, everything drawing inwards, becoming a heated ball of tension that demanded release.
God, if he keeps this up I’m going to—

His voice in my ear again. “When I’m done kissing down every inch of your body, I’m going to spread your legs apart and hold them there. I want to see you. I want to just kneel there and
look
at you and tell you how beautiful you are while you get wetter and wetter. Then I’m going to put my head between your thighs and I’m not going to stop until you’re screaming,
begging
for me to fuck you.”

His thumb rubbing against my nipple, each pass sending pleasure arcing downward to swell my approaching orgasm. His voice painted the lurid scene in my mind: I could see those brown and amber eyes staring down at me, feel his tongue on my folds—
God, I can’t come, not right here in public—

His voice, rough and perfect. “Come for me, Irina.”

His finger and thumb pinched lightly at my nipple and suddenly I was slipping over the edge, writhing between him and the tree as my climax exploded. His thumb slipped between my teeth and I bit down on it as wave after wave of pleasure broke over me. I could feel the hardness of his cock against my ass, my orgasm turning him on even more.

Then I was slumping, my legs trembling and weak, and he had to grab my waist and pull me into his arms to stop me falling.
I can’t believe I just did that,
I thought, huffing ice-cold air into my lungs. But at the same time, the dark excitement at having done it made me heady. Angelo’s lips touched mine and I opened, drawing strength from his kiss as I clung to his shoulders.

When he finally broke the kiss, he stared into my eyes, looking almost angry: how
dare
I turn him on this much? “How do you
do
this to me?” he rasped. Then he kissed me again. “Tonight, I’m going to do everything I just told you.”

I nodded weakly...then shook my head as a memory hit me. “I can’t. I have to go out tonight.”

He cursed under his breath. His hands tightened on my waist again, fiercely possessive. “Tomorrow, then,” he growled. “I’ll call you.”

I nodded. “I have to go,” I said. And, with a last kiss, I broke away and set off towards Fenbrook, feeling his eyes following me. The cold wind was lashing my cheeks but it didn’t do anything to cool me down. I knew I was panting and red-faced, my lips tingling and swollen from all the kissing, my hair slipping from its bun thanks to the way he’d manhandled me. I had to get to a restroom and get myself together before I went to my next class...and, at the same time, I didn’t want to. I liked being this way, liked being marked
by him.

This isn’t like me
. But I knew, deep down, that that was a lie. I’d always known there was this part of me. I’d hidden my lust away because the few guys I’d been with made me feel I had to—Russian men think sex is for
them
and expect their women to tolerate it, not enjoy it. But for Angelo, my pleasure seemed to be the whole aim.

And it was more than just sex. I’d only known him a few days but I
liked
him. I dared to let myself dream.
Maybe I can somehow talk Vasiliy around.
We wouldn’t meet like this and feel like this if we were going to be separated, would we? Fate wasn’t that cruel.

I was right. Fate was much, much crueller.

“
I
t’s not on straight
,” said Rico from behind me.

I pulled on both ends of the bow tie, trying to get it into shape, and the whole knot fell apart. “Fuck it!” I snapped. “I hate these fucking things!”

Rico sighed and twirled his finger in the air. I turned from the mirror and finally allowed him to help me. “Why do I have to go to this party, again?” I growled.

“You ask that every year, boss,” said Rico. “I got the same answer for you: we got to kiss up to Heinwell.” He pulled the bow tie tight, perfectly straight and balanced: how did he do that?

“I hate kissing up to Heinwell,” I muttered. What I meant was, I hated kissing up to
anyone.
Even a big property developer like Heinwell who we needed on our side.

“Champagne and lobster and two hours of hanging out with all those rich chicks. I’m digging real deep but I ain’t finding much sympathy,” Rico told me.

I knew he was right. Going to Heinwell’s charity fundraiser had been almost fun, the last few years. It
was
full of rich, eager society girls who got all wide-eyed at the prospect of meeting a real live criminal. I’d wound up taking one back to my apartment, last year. But now I couldn’t even remember her name and the idea of hanging out with them again just left me cold. The only woman I wanted to see was Irina.
Good thing she was busy tonight.
I’d forgotten all about the party until Rico had cornered me about it. He’d even picked up my tux for me. I don’t know what I’d do without him.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll give Heinwell the fucking check and then I’m out of there.”

* * *

T
he party was
at Heinwell’s place out in Long Island, a big white-painted mansion complete with columns, as if he thought he belonged in the White House.
Maybe, if I take care of Heinwell fast, I can call Irina and meet up when she gets back from wherever she is.
Just the thought of it made my cock swell in my pants...and I didn’t want to admit it, but my chest got a little tight, too, like I was a fucking teenager all over again.

I threw my keys to the kid parking the cars and strode inside, feeling the eyes of the other guests on me. There must have been a hundred people there: minor politicians, some business leaders, a couple of sports stars who wanted to be seen to be doing their bit for charity. I saw a few mouths tighten as I passed. One guy dared to mutter,
what’s
he
doing here?

I stopped and pinned him with a glare.
I run half this fucking city,
my glare said.
What do you do?
I enjoyed watching the cocky piece of shit turn pale and look at his feet.
It wasn’t just about making them afraid. Sometimes, people need reminding that it’s guys like me who keep the wheels turning.

I saw Heinwell across the room and headed towards him. I wanted to intercept him and hand him my check, then maybe I could make an excuse and leave before the actual dinner. But I was aware of someone else pushing through the crowd to my left, trying to get there first.
Oh no you don’t.
I sped up, deliberately not looking at my competition. They sped up, too. We reached Heinwell at the exact same moment and I slapped him on the shoulder. “Jerry!” I gave him a big, bullshit grin. “It’s been too long. Got a big fat check for you.”

Jerry Heinwell tried to smile, but it wouldn’t come together. His eyes kept flicking to the side, towards where my competitor for his attention was standing. “Angelo. Yeah. Haven’t heard from you since last year.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “A lot’s changed, since then.”

“Perhaps you should stay in better touch with your partners,” said a voice from my left, deep and rich and heavily accented. A voice I recognized. I finally turned towards it, my hand slipping from Heinwell’s shoulder.

“Hello, Mr. Baroni,” said Vasiliy Malakov coldly.

My brain froze up for a second. Vasiliy had been on my mind a lot, especially since I found out I was seeing his niece. But I couldn’t wrap my head around him being here.
This was
my
turf. Heinwell was
my
contact.

I watched in horror as Vasiliy put a friendly arm around Heinwell’s shoulders while keeping his gaze on me. “A wise man once said, ‘the only constant is change,’” he told me. “I find this is true.”

My eyes flicked between the two of them. “
Jerry?”
I asked. “What the
fuck?”

Heinwell swallowed, but then lifted his chin. “Times change, Angelo. Sorry.”

Times change?!
I glared at Vasiliy. It wasn’t enough that he was trying to take territory from me, now he was trying to steal my contacts? Heinwell was worth tens of millions: whoever he was cozied up to got all the prime construction contracts, plus tip-offs about future projects the city was planning so they could snap up the right real estate and make a fortune. I’d had Heinwell in my pocket for years and my dad had him before that. No way was Vasiliy taking him—no
way!

I took a step towards Vasiliy...and someone stepped between us. Big, but not some hotheaded young thug: an older guy with a scar across his cheek and a sober manner. The sort of guy who could fit right in at a posh party like this but probably knew thirty different ways to kill you.

“This is Yuri,” said Vasiliy with a hint of pride. “My protection.”

“I don’t want any trouble tonight,” said Heinwell quickly. “The fucking press is here.”

Vasiliy tutted under his breath. “There will be no trouble,” he said as if offended. “Mr. Baroni was just leaving.”

Yuri clasped his hands behind his back and just stared at me. He didn’t display any of the rage and bluster of the bratva I was used to dealing with. He seemed as calm and patient as one of those English butlers. His steady gaze seemed to say:
I’d hate to have to cause a scene by snapping your neck.

But I wasn’t backing down. I looked around Yuri at Vasiliy. “You piece of shit,” I muttered. I could feel my hands bunching into fists, the rage surging and boiling inside me. “You think you can do this, you Russian bastard? There’s a line and you just stepped over it.”

Vasiliy casually waved Yuri out of the way so that he could step right up to me. “Mr. Baroni. Since we are face-to-face, let me deliver a message.” He turned and called over his shoulder. “Mikhail!” Then he turned back to me.
 
“A message from both me and my business partner.”

There was movement in the crowd behind Vasiliy. A big, pink-faced Russian was approaching, his collar too tight around his flobbery neck. And he was pulling someone along next to him, someone smaller who I couldn’t see yet through the crowd. I just got a glimpse of—

Platinum-blonde hair.

My entire body went cold, all my rage flash-frozen as everything just...stopped.
Oh no. Oh, Jesus, no. Not like this!

For a split-second, I actually considered running. I’d never run from anything in my life but even looking like a coward in front of Vasiliy would be better than the look on her face when she—

Too late.

Mikhail pushed through the crowd and stopped beside Vasiliy, towing Irina into place beside him. The sight of his soft, pink hand around her wrist made me want to kill him.

Irina’s jaw dropped as she saw me. I saw her blink in puzzlement and an iron band cinched tight around my chest: I knew what was coming.

“Who’s this?” asked Irina. I could hear the strain in her voice. She wanted to be wrong.

“This is Angelo Baroni,” Vasiliy told her. “Our rival.”