Page 23 of Capturing Victory

Until he met her, he’d been content to face a lifetime alone, an empire beneath his feet, the world his playground. Now he wanted more. He wanted the soft, keenly intelligent woman in his arms to walk at his side. Even if he had to chain her to him and force her compliance. Eventually she would weaken. She would have to. Her heart was capable of so much more than his. Even with a mind tainted by her past, causing her to hide herself in basements and connect only through the virtual world, her heart was still beautiful and whole. He would prey on her weaknesses until she bent to him and him alone.

“Ivan,” she said hoarsely into his chest.

He smoothed some of the drying strands off her forehead and tipped her head back so he could see her face. It was streaked with drying tears. “Yes?”

“Thank you for saving us,” she whispered, her lips inches from his, fresh tears sparkling in her eyes. “I didn’t want to die.”

Ivan nodded and, ignoring his men, dropped his head to her ear, skimming her cheek with his lips along the way. “You belong to me. I won’t let you go, not even death gets to take you.” He knew his words weren’t comforting but they were the truth.

She jerked in his arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “That was very Heathcliff, Ivan. No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

He frowned and then chuckled at her audacity. Here she was sitting on her kidnapper’s lap, speeding back toward his home, and she was accusing him of not having any friends. He leaned back to see her facial expressions better, glad that she was still clinging to his shirt, though he wasn’t sure if she was aware of her action. “What makes you think I don’t have any friends?”

She glanced over at Keane and said, “Hey, asshole, do you like this guy? Would you call him a friend?”

Keane raised a thick red eyebrow and let out a booming laugh. “Awe, fuck no! That fucker’d kill a guy as soon as look at him. And I never seen him drink a beer. Can’t fully trust a man that won’t sit and have a pint with me.”

“Fuck you, Keane,” Ivan said in a dignified voice and dropped his chin against the top of Jaya’s head.

She giggled and held him a little tighter. Something within him relaxed a little. He felt less frantic as they reached the dock, though he insisted on lifting her into his arms and holding her against his chest as he stepped off the boat. She didn’t complain or try to push him away. He knew this was a temporary thing, but he would still enjoy the submissive Jaya while he had her.

“Make sure no one disturbs us,” he said to Keane, who kept pace with him as he strode toward his private wing. “Do what you have to do to get things running again.”

Keane nodded sharply. “Yes, boss.” He veered to the left and headed for the security wing giving Ivan and Jaya their privacy.

Ivan carried Jaya the rest of the way to his private quarters and entered the code, allowing them access. He pushed the door open and carried her over the threshold. She lifted her head and looked around.

“I feel like I could sleep for a week,” she said with a yawn.

“Soon,” he said, carrying her through to the washroom and setting her on her feet.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, caught somewhere between trust and wariness. Ivan reached for her neck and gently extracted the slumbering kitten who immediately woke and began protesting. “Take off your clothes,” he instructed in a voice he hoped was both commanding and gentle at the same time. He carried the rapidly drying critter, her striped fur spiked up in every direction, into the bedroom and settled her on her kitty bed where she curled up and closed her eyes with a deep sigh of contentment. When he returned to the washroom Jaya was still clinging to the edge of the counter fully clothed.

Ivan gently pried her fingers from the edge of the granite counter and lifted her hands between their bodies. “Jaya, you’re shaking like a leaf,” he said calmly. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes and into the shower. Trust me, you’ll feel much better once the salt is washed from your skin and you feel warm again.”

Her teeth began to chatter, and her eyes filled with tears. She looked down and away from him, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Ivan.”

“You need to shower, Jaya,” he said firmly. “Either you take your clothes off and do it yourself or I do it for you.”

Her eyes snapped to him and narrowed. Ordinarily, resistance and argument irritated him. Gave him cause to assess and, shortly thereafter, terminate whatever relationship or person was resisting him. But Jaya was different. He was enjoying her fire. He wanted more, was relieved to see that it hadn’t been extinguished in her near-death experience.

“Don’t you dare.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Then take your clothes off and get your ass in that shower.”

She looked as though she wanted to argue, to deny him. But she’d come to know him well enough to realize he would indeed strip her down and he wouldn’t be nice about it. She glanced around, looking for an escape. Of course, there was none. He was standing between her and the only door. Her shoulders slumped a little and she uncrossed her arms and reached for the hem of her shirt.

She paused for a moment. “Can you please leave?” she asked.

“No,” he denied her request. “Now get moving, Jaya.”

“I hate you so much, Ivan.” She dragged the T-shirt over her head with shaking arms and let it go, slamming her arms over her torso.

He frowned at her timidity. He wasn’t completely surprised given her solitary existence, but he wasn’t going to tolerate it for long. “That’s not what you were saying when I was pulling you from the ocean. Now the rest, Jaya,” he insisted.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of the black leggings she almost always chose to wear when he didn’t insist on a sari and dragged them over her generous hips. She had to lean against the counter and bend over to get them off her legs. She was so weak from her ordeal that she couldn’t get her feet untangled and started to fall. Ivan caught her before she could hit the floor. He nearly groaned out loud when his fingers sank into her smooth, plush skin. He pushed her back against the counter and knelt at her feet admiring the rounded expanse of her soft, smooth stomach in front of his face.

“Let me,” he muttered roughly, sliding his hand over one calf, lifting her leg and pushing her leggings off first one foot and then the other. She stood uncomplaining, her hands gripping the counter behind her. When he looked up, he nearly came in his pants at the sight. She wore nothing, but a skimpy pair of bikini cut panties, dark pink with purple lace around the edges. He really couldn’t help but follow the path of the lace to where it disappeared right between her plump thighs. She wore a matching bra that clung so lovingly to her full breasts he decided that she should always wear whatever shape, colour and size this bra and panty set were. The perfection was blowing his mind.

---