Page 39 of Reign of Four

I scrub my aching eyelids. I didn’t get enough sleep for this conversation. He hasn’t gotten any sleep in God knows how long. “You need to sleep, Ezra. You can’t run on drugs and testosterone all the time. I want my husband to be whole, which means eating healthy, whole grains and getting a full eight hours of sleep each night. Okay?”

He takes another drag. “Andrei does not get eight hours sleep.”

“I wasn’t talking about him.”

That gets Ezra’s attention. He perks up in a heartbeat, shifting his weight as he sits up straighter. “You either have crazy plan or you have big problem. Andrei will not let you marry other man. He is in love with you.”

This is the first time I’ve heard someone speak so casually about what Andrei and I have, and it fills my heart with light. I lean into Ezra for a kiss when he suddenly grimaces. My heart jumps to my throat and I pull back immediately, being careful not to put any weight on his torso. “Oh, shit, did I touch your—” The words bullet wound sour on my tongue—“um, bandage?”

Ezra holds his breath as he takes my wrists in his hands. The woven blanket falls off my shoulders and pools around our thighs, blasting us with cold air. His eyes dip to my chest and take in my naked body, sending a wave of heat through my bloodstream. Thumbing my wrists, he lifts one to his lips and presses a kiss to my pulse point. “You can touch me any place, lisichka. I feel no pain with you.”

Bold-face lies, but sweet ones.

I lean in, more careful to avoid his injury this time, and press a gentle kiss to his lips. “You took a bullet for me. I never said thank you.”

When I retreat farther back to give him space, he doesn’t let me, surging forward and stealing another kiss, then another, and another, until I’m breathless and aching.

His voice rumbles across my lips, promising more. “I do not want thanks.” Surprisingly gentle, he molds his mouth over mine, insistent but patient.

My heart skips a beat. “What do you want?”

His stubble scratches my cheek as he wraps the blanket back over my shoulders. I shiver as my body welcomes the extra layer, while Ezra hums in the back of his throat and slides his palms down the outside of my arms, rubbing warmth into my skin with slow, methodical movements. The answer shines in his onyx eyes, lingers in his gentle touch.

His lips hover over mine, and my heart seeks his. Aching. Wanting. Needing. He exists in every cavern of my heart, pumping through my bloodstream. This man loves me. I know it.

But he doesn’t say it.

His lips brush over my jaw as he travels lower, setting into the curve of my neck. He sighs, a weariness weighing him down. “You must marry Andrei.”

I clutch Ezra tightly in my arms, cradling the back of his head and scraping my nails against his scalp. He loves me. But it’s not easy for him. It never has been.

“You must marry Andrei,” he repeats, pressing an openmouthed kiss to my skin, searing it with heat. “He is pakhan, and you are princess. It is my job to keep promise—to protect. I will take bullet for you, Valentina—I will take beating and broken bone, poison and pain, to keep you safe. That is promise for you, Princess.”

I press my palm over his heart, feeling its beat stutter and skip, erratic, and overwhelming sadness washes over me. He would take on every danger coming our way, to keep me safe. “You would die for me.”

Ezra’s lips travel the expanse of my neck, a trail of fire that ignites my blood. I gasp as he nips my skin and groans, palming my ass to pull me deeper into his lap.

“E-Ezra.” I bite my lip and stifle a moan, the bulge beneath me very large and growing by the second.

His free hand slides up the back of my neck and into my hair, pulling me impossibly close. I can’t tell where I end and he begins.

“I cannot make promise of future,” he rasps, sucking a bruise onto my neck, “I cannot speak pretty lies, Valentina. My life is Bratva. I live for princess. I die for queen. Title does not matter, I do not exist without her.” He lifts his hooded eyes to mine, his words soft and slow. “I can not exist without you.”

I crash into him like a wave against the shore, claiming his stupid, romantic, Russian mouth with mine, then overpowering him as the rest of my body surges over his. I climb deeper into his lap and scrape my nails through his hair; the sound he makes curls my toes. He matches my ferocity as he licks into my mouth and slides his palms over my hips, my stomach, up my ribs, over my breasts, into my hair, pulling me harder into him, like he can’t get enough, like he needs every part of me on offer. “Valentina,” he sighs, throwing his head back when I grind down hard with a slow rotation of my hips. He makes a choked sound as he bucks up into me, matching my movements. “Valentina,” he hisses, grabbing my ass hard and as he takes over, rubbing my lips over his length, soaking his boxers and damn near forcing himself in. “Naughty fox, rubbing dirty cunt all over. Your pussy is used. Full of cum.” He thrusts, applying pressure to my clit and making me gasp. “Are you ready for more, lisichka?”

He picks me up as he stands in one swift motion, carrying me out of the bedroom and down the hall to another guest room. I’m kissing his neck when he tosses me onto the bed and strips, his cock springing free before he’s even pulled his shirt over his head. While he’s tossing his shirt to the floor, I’m scooting up the bed and throwing my legs open in welcome.

Lightning flashes, painting his body white. In an instant, man transforms to marble, the picture of Adonis as he crawls on top of me and slots himself between my thighs. Our lips meet the same moment as our hips, both of us groaning as our bodies merge into one. Ezra grips the headboard overhead and surges harder, lifting my knee to drive himself deeper. My pussy clenches, already gushing wet from Mikhail’s release and my own mixing together, and now Ezra is determined to make an even bigger mess of me.

“Ohhhh.” Shit. That’s hot. That’s really fucking hot.

His smile is pure, confident sex that I’d expect more from Mikhail, but catching the satisfied glimmer in Ezra’s dark eyes damn near tips me over the edge. I toss my head back into the pillow with a longer, louder moan.

“Perfect, lisichka, perfect. Beautiful woman. Taking cock so well.” He tilts his hips and his cock drags against my walls as the angle shifts, making me whine. He grunts with every other thrust, slamming the headboard into the wall in a steady bam—bam—bam. Leaning in, he captures my lips in a kiss. “I fill you up so good, remember? I make you feel good. Say it.”

I mumble something incoherent, and he smacks my thigh. “Say it.”

“You make me feel good!” The flash of pain jolts through my body, ramping up the liquid-hot feeling inside me. “Fuck, Ezra, you make me feel so good. So fucking good. You fill me up so well.”

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