Page 8 of Nikola
He hid himself underneath layers of erratic behavior and wild actions, but that persona was for the outsiders. Not for me. Never to me. I saw the real him.
My gaze trailed over the room, seeing it in a different light now. This place wasn’t lavish, but it still screamed of wealth and power. I turned on my side, propping my head in my hand, and wondered how many women Nikola had brought to this room.
Irrational frustration flared in the pit of my stomach, but I had no time to dwell because the door to the bathroom opened and Nikola leaned against the doorframe, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. I scanned—greedily and wantonly—every one of his gorgeous abs.
None of the Nikolaev men were classically beautiful people, but it was in no way a shortcoming. Instead, they exuded a raw and animalistic power that any red-blooded woman could spot from miles away.
My hormones stirred to life just looking at Nikola. He towered over me with his MMA build, his tattoos a testament to his deeds—both good and bad. The ink was etched into his soul: a hand holding a knife dripping with blood, a fired gun, a set of hands over piano keys, a boy kissing a girl. That latter tattoo melted my heart a little each time I gawked at it, remembering us as children.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His mouth moved, speaking the words, although he signed them too. Every single member of the Nikolaev family had learned ASL for my benefit long before I could understand how much it would one day mean to me. It was so natural at this stage that I rarely gave it any thought. Lying here though, in his bed, in this mysterious room, my mind was going all sorts of places.
I licked my lips nervously and his pale blue eyes zeroed in on the movement.
“Look, I?—”
He raised his hand to cut me off. “Keep in mind, we’re cousins or some shit like that. And then there’s the fact that you’re definitely not my type. All innocent and pure…” He clicked his tongue. “You need to leave. I can’t have you… like that. In my bed.”
His eyes scanned me, and try as he might to hide it, I detected the desire in his expression. I rolled back over and stared at the ceiling to keep from saying anything else incriminating.
My hands moved deftly to form my next words. “We’re not blood cousins.” From the corner of my eye, I caught the jeans that now hung low on his hips, his bare chest still glistening from his shower. Every cell in my body buzzed with thisuncontrollable need to touch him. Trace every single tattoo with my fingers. Or better yet, with my tongue.
He waved his arm, and I turned to look at him.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but eyes up here.” He rifled through a drawer and pulled out a black T-shirt, swiftly putting it on. “You’refamily,quit gawking at me.”
I snickered. “Again, we’re not actually related.”
“But you agree that wearefamily.”
“Yes.” That would be impossible to dispute, because the Nikolaevs were and always would be my family. Just like Mama and Papa were. “But family is defined by so much more than blood.”
He rolled his eyes. Fucking asshole. “Whatever you say,zayka.”
I slid off the bed and shrugged my shoulders, hiding my disappointment behind a blank mask. “Well, I’m off to get laid. You go do whatever the hell you do.”
I took three steps toward the door before Nikola’s big hand shot out and hooked around my waist, whirling me around. I lost my balance, my palm landing on his wide chest, right above his heart that thrummed under my fingertips.
He released me and signed, “You are not getting laid.” His nostrils flared as he closed his eyes briefly, looking as though he was gathering his strength.Good. I was glad he felt something—anything. “I’m taking you home. And don’t try to resist me or?—”
I shoved him away and resumed my steps until I was lifted into the air, my body positioned so it was hanging over Nikola’s broad shoulder.
Well, I got what I came here for. He’d noticed me, one way or another.
2
NIKOLA
Skye could be infuriating when she wanted to be. She could drive even a level-headed person to certifiable insanity. So it wasn’t a surprise that she was fucking with my head.
Skye was persistence and determination personified. Nothing could ever keep her back or tame her spark. It was what I really liked about her. She really deserved better than the shackles of mafia life. It was one reason I’d always kept her at arm’s length. She was too good to be wrapped up with me or anyone else in the mafia. I was determined to see her break away from these chains of the criminal life we’d been forced into.
I didn’t have a choice in the matter, but she certainly did, and despite her papa and my uncle, she could find a way to live free and happy.
But when she’d gone and told me, “I’m off to get laid,” it completely threw me for a loop. At moments like that, I was tempted to throw all my good intentions to the wind and fuck her into oblivion.
Jesus Christ, at this rate, I’d find myself being taken away and medicated. These emotions were a fucking pain in my ass and giving me major whiplash.
Protect her. Take her.
