Page 56 of Lethal Alliance

“Stay there,milaia,”I say against her ear, my body surging as I ready my cock.“Stay with me.”

I enter her with a driving intensity, and her scream echoes around the valley.

Deep inside her, the ripples milk me like a thousand tiny fronds. My hands under her ass pull her down to meet me, and when I angle myself up and find the magic fit, she bucks again.

“Oh.” The moan rips from deep inside her. “Roman, that’s it. I’m still coming...”

“I know,milaia.I can feel you all over my cock.” It’s all I can do to retain control, but I don’t want this to end. Her fierce, pulsing contractions around my shaft are a paradise I want to lose myself in, an island of mindless sensation amid the darkness all around us. I thrust deeply and deliberately, gasping at every tightening of her body, reveling in her small cries. The savage ripples fade, but she keeps rocking with me, a slow, deep rhythm that has me groaning her name and muttering an endless stream of mindless words into her ear.

“You’re so fucking hot,milaia.So wet and tight.”

She moans, jerking against me.

“Christ, Darya, the way you feel...” I hold out as long as I can, riding the crest of the storm with every stroke. But then she grips my arms and her movements begin to speed up.

“I’m going to come again.” She says it breathlessly, and I lose my shit.

I drive into her with a roar and with the hard, fierce strokes that tip us both over the edge. Her walls convulse around me, and I erupt in a hot, pulsing torrent that pours from the base of my spine, almost blinding in intensity.

We cling to one another until the last of the waves finally abates.

Darya peeks up at me, my cock still inside her. “Lucky this is a quiet road.”

We laugh softly, our bodies still joined, arms around each other, because sometimes when the intensity is too much, laughing is the only thing left to do.

18

DARYA

Roman doesn’t let go of my hand for the rest of the drive to the lab. I think we both need the physical reassurance. After my father’s bombshell, and with the gaping hole left by the girls’ absence, I want only to be as close to Roman as I can be. Going by the way his large hand covers my own, he feels the same way.

The lab comes into view as we crest a hill. It’s a gleaming white building of stone and glass, sleek and low against the mountain before us. I recognize it by the wordHALEwritten in large silver letters across the wall.

“Wow.” I’m accustomed to the impressive Hale Property office building in central Malaga, but this is something different again.

Roman’s mouth curls in a smile I can’t quite read. “That’s just the icing on the cake. Wait until you see what lies underneath it.”

“Underground, you mean?”

When he nods I shake my head, repressing a wicked urge to laugh. He glances at me. “What?”

“I was just thinking that building bunkers underground must be in the Borovsky genes.”

Roman gives a surprised snort of laughter. “We’re joking about this now?”

“You just discovered your mother is alive. I just found out my father’s been lying to me my entire life. Our children are missing, and”—I’m pregnant with your baby—“we just had sex on the hood of your car in broad daylight. I think we’re both badly in need of as much humor as we can manage, don’t you?” I meet his eyes, grateful he doesn’t seem to have noticed the slight halt in the middle of my sentence.

“Our children.” He squeezes my hand gently. “It’s nice to hear you call them that.”

“I know I’m not their mother, Roman. I’m not trying to replace anyone.”

“You’re more of a mother to the children than their own has ever been.” His eyes burn fiercely, mouth tightening. “I just wish—” He clamps his mouth shut. His hand grips mine tightly enough to cut off the blood supply.

“This isn’t your fault, Roman,” I say quietly. “It isn’t anyone’s fault except Vilnus Orlov’s. He’s the one who started all of this. He betrayed my father and killed yours, all because he wants whatever is inside that vault.”

He frowns as he glances at me. “What do you mean,whatever is insideit? Haven’t you ever seen what’s inside?”

“No.” I shake my head, and he huffs in surprise. “I never needed to. I knew there was a fortune in there. People talked about it all the time—or rather, whispered—even when I was in hearing distance. I know there are some Fabergé pieces in the vault, and jewelry that came out of imperial Russia. My earrings, for example. And once, when I was very young, my father showed us a Fabergé egg that his father left him. He explained that there is always a trick mechanism built inside the eggs. That one had a jeweled cocoon. When Papa pushed a button, the cocoon opened and a filigree gold butterfly emerged.”

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