Page 34 of Stalk Me

Those two words send another shiver through me. I lean into his solid frame, breathing in his expensive cologne mixed with something purely masculine. His arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

The city lights blur past as we drive deeper into the heart of Boston. Each second draws me further into Nikolai’s world—dangerous, thrilling, and somehow exactly where I belong.

The car stops before a sleek high-rise stretching into the night sky. Before I can reach for the handle, Nikolai opens my door and offers his hand. Despite how roughly he took me against the gallery wall not even an hour ago, he acts like a gentleman. The memory makes me clench my thighs together.

The private elevator whisks us to the top floor, Nikolai’s hand resting possessively on my lower back. When the doors open, I catch my breath. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase Boston’s glittering skyline, the city spread out below us like scattered diamonds on black velvet.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Nikolai’s voice rumbles close to my ear.

I nod, moving toward the windows in a daze. The Charles River snakes through the city, moonlight dancing on its surface.

“Drink?” He’s already at a crystal decanter, the amber liquid catching the city lights.

“Please.” My voice comes out scratchy. I need something to steady my nerves.

He hands me a tumbler, his fingers brushing mine. Even that small contact sends electricity racing up my arm. I take a sip, letting the smooth whiskey warm my throat.

Nikolai watches me over the rim of his glass, those alluring gray eyes dark with promise. The air grows thick andcharged with anticipation. I shift my weight, hyper-aware of his presence, of how his suit jacket stretches across his broad shoulders.

“Come.” He gestures to the leather couch. “Sit with me.”

I perch on the edge, my skin tingling as he settles beside me. The space between us crackles with tension. I take another sip of whiskey, but nothing can dull the awareness of his body next to mine, the memory of his hands on my skin, the way he made me scream his name.

I melt into Nikolai’s touch as his strong hands work the tension from my shoulders. His fingers find every knot, every point of stress, breaking them down with practiced precision.

“You’re carrying too much tension,malishka.” His thumbs press into a particularly tight spot, drawing a moan from my lips. “Let me take care of everything.”

“The men who?—”

“My brothers and I will handle the bastards causing trouble.” His voice hardens. “You don’t need to worry about them anymore.”

I catch my lower lip between my teeth, processing his words. My research into Nikolai Ivanov had revealed enough—the whispered rumors, the mysterious disappearances of his enemies, and the iron grip his family holds over Boston’s underworld. I know exactly what “handle” means.

“What will happen to them?” I ask.

His hands pause on my shoulders. “Do you really want to know?”

I turn to face him, meeting those steel-gray eyes. “Yes.”

“They threatened what’s mine.” His grip tightens possessively. “There are consequences for such actions.”

A shiver runs through me—not from fear, but from the dark thrill of his words. I should be horrified. I should run. Instead, I lean against his chest, letting his arms wrap around me.

“Will you...” I swallow hard. “Will you kill them?”

His chest rumbles with a dark laugh. “Such direct questions,malishka.” His lips brush my ear. “Would that bother you?”

The honest answer surprises even me. “No.” They would have torn my business from me—the gallery I’ve worked hard to open and keep running.

His hands slide down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Then yes. They’ll be an example to anyone who thinks of touching what belongs to me.”

My heart swells with emotions—gratitude, desire, and something deeper I’m not ready to name. Before I can overthink it, I turn in Nikolai’s arms and press my lips to his. It’s the first time I’ve initiated a kiss between us, and the significance isn’t lost on me.

Nikolai freezes for a split second, clearly surprised by my bold move. Then his hands tangle in my hair, and he takes control of the kiss, deepening it until I’m gasping against his mouth.

“Such fire,” he murmurs against my lips. His hands slide down to my hips. “Come here,malishka.”

He guides me onto his lap, and I straddle him, my dress riding up my thighs. The position brings our bodies flush together, and I can feel how hard he is beneath his tailored pants.

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