Page 14 of Brutal Promise

“Fine,” he says before he moves in and out of me, raising me higher and higher until my orgasm shatters me.

I cry out into the darkness as I clutch his shoulders. He pumps me a few more times before letting out a long groan, then shudders one last time before pulling me to his chest and gently holding me in his arms. I’m suspended in the air, holding onto his bulging biceps. The well-developed trapezoid muscles of his back support me.

“And now, how do you feel?”

“Amazing,” I whisper. My mouth is parched from yelling and moaning while I clawed at his back during my final release.

“Good.” He rolls beside me. “Do you need anything, my little bird?”

“Water, please.”

He leaves the room without a sound. I hear water running in the kitchen faucet. He returns and hands me the filled glass. I guzzle it, then wipe the droplets off my lip.

I set the glass on the nightstand, and he pulls me back into the bed and places the covers over me.

“Go to sleep.”

“You called me little bird. What does that mean?”

“Tomorrow, I’ll explain more. For now, we need to sleep because I will wake you up for round two in a few hours.”

“Oh,” I reply. Now I’m not going to be able to sleep.Fuck, this man is a beast.

I have questions for him too. I felt the scars on his chest, and I could tell one leg had suffered trauma, which left it slightly deformed. I wonder if he was tortured.

Sometime during the night, I’m awakened by a hand running down my arm, caressing my body. Immediately I’m wet. I roll over, and Dmitry’s face hovers over mine. He rolls on top of me, and his sheathed, hard cock enters me with one thrust, jolting my body backward. I gasp. My hands cling to his biceps, and my toes curl. I probably could have come without him, but when he thrusts in again, I’m happy I waited.

My eyes flutter open as sunlight peeks between the slats of the blinds. Dmitry is next to me with a cup of hot coffee. I sit up and take it from him. The smell alone is enough to give me a caffeine boost. He bought me coffee in bed. Will this man always surprise me? Or is this just to impress me?

“Good morning.” He walks toward the open ensuite and starts the shower. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You were very tired.”

“I had no idea.” I drink the coffee, trying not to choke on it as I take in his large frame. My eyes rest on a scar on his side that looks like a bullet hole and the incision from the knife used to remove it.

“Are those all from work?”

He must get asked this by every woman he’s been with.

“Yes, some on my chest were accidental during training. Others are from knife fights where I didn’t do good enough.” He moves about the room methodically, pulling out clothing to wear. “Shower or more questions?” He sends me a look, but I can’t read him. He acts like he’s working again, and everything that transpired last night has vanished.

So, this is what it’s like being with these guys. No wonder Alena hasn’t formed any attachments to these men. They are unreachable. It’s like a curtain comes down for sex, then they are back to being curt, aloof. He doesn’t impress me as a trusting man, especially when he’s questioning me about my past. I’m glad he didn’t trust the men in the alley. After I saw him kill them both, I know it was not the first time he’s killed others. I don’t pretend to know what his life was like growing up in the bratva. I’m not sure I want to see that side of him. It scares me that his life is filled with so much darkness.

“Shower.” I’ll take the breadcrumbs he gives me. He’s possessive and protective of me. I will figure him out as I go. If I’m to survive in his world, I can’t let my feelings get hurt by his change in demeanor. Most men who have a hook-up would have skated out the door before daybreak. Dmitry cooked me breakfast.

We shower, both lost in our worlds, and he hands me a towel when he gets out. I dry off and have only the fashionable dress for the walk of shame home. I hope Alena is at the apartment when I get there so she can let me in. What got into me last night?

Ah, the chemistry between us was thicker than Beijing’s smog. I hope Dmitry isn’t as deadly.

“Why the long face?” he asks as he tugs on his jeans.

“I only have last night’s clothes. I can’t believe I didn’t even return for my purse.”

“Nothing bad happened. Here,” he says as he picks up his dress shirt and sends it flying at my head. “Wear this, I’ll see what we have to eat and take you home after that. You can put your dress on then.”

I catch the shirt, and it’s huge in comparison to my slight frame. He pulls a white t-shirt over his head and steps into jeans before he heads to the kitchen, and I’m left buttoning tons of expensive buttons. I sniff this shirt. It smells of him combined with the lingering scent of his cologne.

“You like the smell?” he asks as he watches me from the doorway.

Busted. Fuck.

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