Page 16 of The Enforcer's Vow
"I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for."
"What if I am ready?"
I study her face, seeing the flush on her cheeks, the way her lips are slightly swollen from our kiss. She wants this, wants me. The realization sends heat through my veins.
But I also see the uncertainty in her eyes, the fear of making the wrong choice. She's smart enough to know this could be dangerous but human enough to want it anyway.
"Then just say the word." I should be celebrating. I should be taking notes to return to my brother and tell him how easily I got her eating out of my hand, but instead of feeling like the victor, I feel like the fool.
Is she playing me or am I playing her? I can't even tell anymore.
7
ZOYA
What the hell am I doing?
What the actual fuck is going on right now?
Maksim's hands are on me—all over me, in fact. His lips crush against my mouth, and I moan softly as he pulls me against his body. I'm lost in a sea of confusion with thoughts swirling around my head like tiny gnats, landing every so often to remind me how fucking dangerous this is and what a colossal idiot I am for letting my guard down. But here I am kissing the man who wants to have my brother killed.
I tense as the realization hits me, and Maksim pulls back, being the perfect gentleman. "Is everything okay?" he asks me, eye searching my face as if he actually cares, as if he wouldn't just pin me down and take this from me under any other circumstance.
I swallow the tension in my throat and nod, but my eyes flick back and forth between his, where wide, inky pupils stare back at me. This isn't just some game to him right now. No one's pupils are blown wide like that when it's a game. He wants this. He wants me, and fuck if I don't want him back, but how the fuck do I explain that to my brother?
And what happens when we have very real sex and give ourselves to each other like that, and then he fucks Damir up? How do I untangle my heart from that mess?
"Zoya, we don't have to..." He's so patient, so tender as he curls a strand of my dark hair around my ear. What fucking Mafia man is patient and gentle like this? I know this is his plan—to soften me up and get me on his side so I'll tell him where my brother is. I walked into this mess with eyes wide open. So why is he breathing as hard as me, just as desperate to get our clothes off and make this happen as I am?
"I want to," I choke out, past the voice screaming at me to stop. Past the giant red flag waving in the air between us, past the warning my brother gave me still ringing in my ear. "I want this." I reach for his buttons, start undoing them, and he continues his relentless assault on my lips as he begins undressing me.
His shirt falls open under my fingers, revealing the solid wall of muscle beneath. Ink sprawls across his chest and down both arms—dark lines, brutal symbols. Every one of them earned in blood. I press my palms to his chest anyway, feeling the heat of him, the tension in every inch of his body. He's holding back, giving me space, waiting for me to say stop. But I'm not going to.
"I'm not fragile," I whisper against his mouth with desperation. "You don’t have to be careful with me."
His breath catches. “That what you want, Zoya?” he murmurs, voice dark and low. “You want me to stop pretending I’m not fucking starving for you?” When he says it, I believe him. Fuck if I’m not a complete idiot, but I believe him when he says that.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Show me.”
He groans and grabs my hips, dragging me hard against his body. I can feel his cock through his jeans, thick and heavy and already hard. He grinds into me as he speaks, each word lacedwith hunger for me. My heart is hammering in my ears so loudly, I almost don’t hear him when he speaks again. I’m delirious with lust for him, my core aching to be filled.
“You’ve been teasing me since the second I laid eyes on you. Walking around like you don’t know how fucking gorgeous you are. Like you don’t know how much I want to ruin you.” His hands are greedy and dangerous, and I love it. I’m on fire for him and probably soaking wet too.
I gasp as he lifts me effortlessly, setting me down on the edge of the table. My legs part instinctively, and he steps between them, his hands sliding up my thighs, as he spreads me wide. A zing of arousal shoots down my spine at his touch.
“You want me to be the bad guy, Zoya?” His voice is a growl now. “You want me to fuck you like I’m not supposed to?” Maksim’s fingers find the waistband of my jeans and toy with my skin. I’m shuddering, a fucking puddly mess for this man I should be hating, but for the love of God, I can’t find a reason to push him away. Not when my pussy is screaming for his dick.
“God, yes,” I whisper. “I want you to make me forget.”
He yanks my jeans open and pulls them down and tosses them aside, followed by my panties. Then he drops to his knees and his mouth finds the inside of my thigh, then higher, closer, until I feel the heat of his breath against my dripping center.
I want that stubble to rub me raw, to scrape at my sensitive flesh until I’m screaming his name and trembling around his head with my thighs gripping him. I lace a hand through his wavy locks and watch him admire my bare flesh with wide eyes.
“Fuck, you’re already soaked,” he groans. “Is this all for me?”
I nod, breathless, too far gone to speak. Even the wind in my lungs has fled me, like my good morals and my better judgment. Damir would kill me, but I remind myself I’m doing this for him, getting close to the enemy to draw him in and find a way for my brother to go free.
“Words, Zoya.” His grip tightens around my thighs. “If you want my mouth, you beg for it.” Maksim’s voice is harsh and demanding, and it does something to me. I can’t resist him. Iwanthim to talk to me like this, like I’m his, like he owns me.
