Page 52 of The Ripper

I was curious, because her reaction – or lack thereof – could only be achieved by growing up surrounded by crime.

~ I like my theory better than yours.

I rubbed my temples and tried to make him shut up so I could think in peace, but apparently the asshole only went dormant when she was around, so I kept smoking and filling my head with all kinds of fucked-up scenarios, close to pulling my hair out.

I finished the pack, the nicotine having done nothing to ground me, and decided to go back inside and see what and how she was doing.

When I opened the door to the infirmary, she was sitting on the chair, watching over my brother with a genuinely caring expression on her face.

All uncertainty disappeared when I saw her, because while she may have been hiding something, this was real. She couldn’t fake all that kindness. No one was that good.

“I gave him a light sedative to sleep, given his history of addiction,” she yawned, then shook her head as if to wake herself up.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“He told you about that?”

“No, he didn’t, but there are healed needle marks on his arm, consistent with drug use. Do you have any coffee here?”

“Yes, but I think you should get some rest,” she opened her mouth to protest, and I put my hand over her mouth as I stepped behind her chair and leaned down next to her ear, “I’ll watch him,” I whispered as I ran my fingers over her arm.

I expected her to push me away, but her breath hitched as she leaned back, almost like an invitation. I slid my palm between her thighs, reveling in the feel of her soft, warm skin, then slowly pushed them apart as I brushed my nose over her neck, inhaling her scent once more before pressing my lips to her pulse.

Did I really want our first intimate moment to happen next to my brother?

Fuck it.

I was too far gone to care, and he was unconscious.

“Have I thanked you for saving his life yet?” I asked as I traced smooth, barely-there lines on the inside of her thigh, moving closer to her panties with each stroke.

She shook her head, and I grinned against her skin, grazing her neck with my teeth.

“May I thank you properly?” I asked as I pressed a finger over the fabric of her lingerie, almost coming in my pants when I felt how wet she was for me.

“Mm,” she murmured under my palm, nodding at the same time.

“If I take my hand away, will you be a good girl and stay quiet?” I whispered, nibbling on her ear lobe.

She nodded again, her chest rising and falling in rapid movements.

I removed my palm from her mouth, only to move it lower, tracing the hem of her T-shirt before sneaking it underneath and clasping a full breast in my fist. I swore through my teeth when I felt it heavy in my hand, soft and warm.

She breathed in when I pressed my palm over her underwear, and swallowed audibly when I pushed my fingers under the thin material of her cotton panties. My eyes squeezed shut when I felt how easily my fingers slid through her folds.

“You’re fucking soaking for me,Snezhinka.”

I kept my voice low, close to her ear, and she bit her lip as if to anchor herself in reality. Her head fell back, resting against my shoulder while I circled her clit a few times, and she swallowed a moan when I pinched her nipple.

“I dreamed about this,” she whispered so softly I barely caught the words, and I sank a finger inside her, close to bursting in my pants from that alone.

She slapped a hand over her mouth when I slowly moved it in and out, her eyes fluttering shut as I peppered kisses and love bites down her neck, and I swallowed a fist-sized lump when I added a second finger and was met with resistance, her tightness making my head spin.

Her legs tensed, her face displayed discomfort, and she grabbed my arm, sinking her short nails into my skin, but not enough to mark it again.

“What’s wrong?” I removed my fingers, returning them to her clit.

“Nothing,” she licked her lips. “I’m just… not used to…” she stuttered, and I grinned.

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