He made a tortured noise in his throat and pulled back. A thumb ran across my cheek, his eyes conflicted. “Say it again.”
I rocked my hips against him, desperation coating my words. “I want you so badly.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Because . . .” I sighed, searching for the reason and then just letting my first thought escape. “Because it’s always been you.”
I might not have ever realized it before, but as the words left my mouth, I knew I meant every one of them.
Satisfaction, dark and lazy, flared in his eyes. His lips pressed against my ear, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.
“You win, malyshka.”
I didn’t even get to experience the pleasure of my rare victory over him, because with a rip of my panties, he pushed inside me so deeply it tore a gasp from my throat. I dug my nails into his shoulders.
“Fuck, I missed this,” he breathed.
By now, I’d gotten used to the way he fucked—so hard and unforgiving. Slightly selfish yet somehow still attentive. As he carried me to the bedroom, holding me tightly, still deep inside me, he stopped to kiss me for a full minute on the way, and I knew I loved it. The sex was fast and rough, but afterward, he made up for it with his head between my legs until I was begging him to stop.
The next evening, while waiting to cross the street, I got a text from an unknown number.
My dinner is late.
Schoolgirl giddiness filled me at the fact he was texting me, even though I’d let him hold me down and screw the lights out of me last night.
Me: I’m sorry, who is this?
Christian: Funny.
Me: Todd?
Christian: I’m going to spank your ass.
Me: Promise?
Soon after that exchange, I found him sitting on the couch with some papers on the coffee table before him. I ran my hands down his chest, flashing him my new sparkly crimson nails.
“What do you think?”
“I love them, malyshka.” He grabbed my hand and kissed it.
That was when I decided I loved having this man’s approval, no matter how confusing his position in my life may be.
The next day, he came home, paused, then picked up the “Russian for Dummies” book sitting on the coffee table. He raised a brow at me.
I returned the look from my spot on the couch. “How else am I going to eavesdrop on all your phone calls, malysh?”
It was the male form of the endearment he called me. A half-smile pulled on his lips as he dropped the book back on the table.
I stood and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his chest. “I’ve been waiting for you to get home all day.”
He made a noise of contentment. “What are you doing to me?” His voice was serious and slightly accented. I loved that timbre so much I rose to my toes and tried to taste it on his lips.
As the next week passed, each day, I fell in love with something else. With his smell—the way it made my eyes half-lidded and my toes curl in satisfaction. With his hands—the way they made everything else go away. With his voice—the way it could be so rough and sweet at the same time.
I had practically moved in. My stuff was everywhere. Three bottles of lotion sat on the coffee table, and he hadn’t complained once about how they weren’t lined up neat in a row.
He didn’t like it, though, when I moved his stuff around. I’d hear a grumpy, “Gianna,” and something like, “There’s a reason I put my stuff where it is.” I was sure it was somewhere between crazy and nutso.
He watched The Princess Bride with me.
He didn’t like it.
He played chess with me.
I was a sore loser.
We even played our own version of twenty questions. As long as I stayed away from his childhood and his mother, I was in the clear. Though, I’d soon find out the no-go zone was broader than that.
“Would you visit my grave if I died?”
His eyes grew dark. “I’d die before you were ever in a grave, malyshka.”
I loved his possessive side.
And I loved his dark side, too.
GIANNA
WE HADN’T BEEN ANYWHERE IN public since the last failure of a dinner party. What we had—whatever we had—was working well. But of course, Christian Allister always had to go and complicate things.
“Where are you going?” he asked as I got out of bed and stretched.
“Church.” I yawned. “It’s been, like, a month since I’ve gone, and every time I have premarital sex with you, I swear, I can feel the fires of hell creeping up my back.”
He chuckled and sat up on the side of bed. “I’ll come with you.”
I froze. “What? No. Christian, you can’t come with.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” I sputtered. “People will think we’re together.”
His eyes hardened. “You sleep in my bed every goddamn night, Gianna.”
“You’re not even Catholic!”
“I’m whatever you are.”
I had no response for that because it was ridiculous.
I didn’t think Nico would have a problem with me dating anyone, even though I’d never quite tested that theory out. I was technically under his protection and, therefore, rules, but I liked to think of myself as a free agent more than anything. However, I did know everyone in the Russo family had either seen or heard some squabble between Christian and me, and if we showed up at church together, I would never hear the end of it.
“Everyone thinks we hate each other.”
He walked toward me and trailed a thumb across my cheek. “Then let’s show them we can get on just fine.”
I bit my lip.
“Are you going to deny me my salvation?”
I couldn’t stop the smile, and then shook my head and let out a frustrated groan because of it.
We showered together, like always, but the difference was he seemed withdrawn while we got ready, almost guilty. And that started a prickle of alarm at the base of my back. I didn’t know what he was up to or why he wanted to go to church with me, but I was beginning to think it was for nefarious reasons.
We stepped into the church, side-by-side, with his hand on my waist. If the entire congregation didn’t turn to stare at us, at least ninety-five percent of it did. The heat of all their stares lit my skin. And then the whispering began.
Elena’s eyes went wide as we passed. And Ace, with an arm resting on the back of the pew, only raised a brow in amusement.
“Should we close out that bet now?” Val leaned in to ask, after we took a seat beside her and Ricardo.
“No,” I bit out stubbornly.
She laughed.
Christian’s jaw tightened, though he didn’t say a word.
During the service, he rested a hand on the bare sliver of skin between my dress and thigh-high boots.
I thought I loved that, too.
Afterward, the ladies stood around to gossip for a while, while the men drifted outside to do the same.
“I’ll be outside, malyshka,” he said in my ear. And then he turned my face and kissed me on the lips. It was short and sweet but possessive, letting everyone know Christian Allister was screwing me nine ways to Sunday.
I thought I heard someone gasp.
“Wow,” Valentina breathed, fanning herself with her Bible and watching his retreating form. “Tell me everything.”