Page 81 of Savage Vows
I press my thumb against her clit, curling my fingers just right. “Let go,” I whisper. “Come for me, Adriana.”
She does, shuddering against me, her body tensing and then unraveling. Her cry is swallowed by the shower, by my kiss. I hold her through it, never letting up until she slumps against me, boneless and spent.
I press kisses along her jaw, down her neck, whispering her name against her skin. I don’t wait—I need her too much now. I shift her weight, line myself up, and sink into her in one long, aching thrust. She gasps, nails biting into my back.
I move slow at first, letting her adjust, her body still fluttering around me. The feeling is almost too much. I bury my face in her shoulder, breathing her in, water pouring over my back, our bodies slick and sliding together. I thrust deeper, filling her, rocking into her until she moans again, hips meeting mine in rhythm.
Her legs tighten around my waist, heels digging into my lower back, urging me to go harder. I give in, setting a steady, relentless pace, fucking her into the wall, lost in the heat and slickness and the way she says my name.
Every sound she makes, every shiver, drives me closer to the edge. She clings to me, hands fisting in my hair, breath hot and desperate in my ear.
“Dante—” Her voice breaks, high and pleading. “Don’t stop. Please—don’t stop.”
I don’t. I thrust harder, faster, the sound of skin on skin lost in the roar of the shower. She meets every movement, her body taking me deeper, tighter, wetter. I reach between us, thumb finding her clit again, rubbing fast little circles until she cries out, coming again, body pulsing around my cock.
That’s all it takes. I press her harder to the wall, hips snapping, every muscle drawn tight. I feel her squeeze me, clench and flutter, and I lose control, spilling into her, growling her name against her mouth. The world goes white, and I hold her through it, shuddering, until my legs nearly give out.
We slide down the wall together, sinking to the floor of the shower, tangled in arms and legs and breathless laughter. I pull her into my lap, kissing her softly, over and over, letting the water wash away everything else.
I press my forehead to hers, both of us still gasping, her hands on my chest. I cup her face, thumb brushing her cheek, and for a long moment, I just look at her. There’s nothing between us but heat and steam and the proof of how much I want her, how much I need her, how impossible it is to pretend otherwise.
It’s much later, when we’re dry and clothed and getting ready for bed, when my phone vibrates against the bedside table. I glance at the name and take the call, stepping away from Adriana, pressing the phone to my ear, my voice low. “What is it, Remik?”
Remik’s voice comes through tense and quick. “We have a problem, Dante. A girl washed ashore out by the freight docks. The one who went missing from the club. Cops just found her body. I got it confirmed through a friend on the force.”
My jaw tightens. My pulse hammers in my ears. “What did you do, Remik?” I growl. “I told you to stay off this, to keep everything clean.”
“I did, I’m not involved in that shit,” he says. Believe me, I’m not stupid enough to go hunting on my own grounds. I haven’t touched a thing. This isn’t me, Dante. But now the cops are involved, and people are going to start asking questions.”
I run a hand over my jaw, already reaching for my keys. “Jesus. I’ll be right there.”
“What’s wrong?” Adriana asks from behind me, her voice tentative, worry in it.
“Nothing important,” I say, forcing my tone flat. I grab my keys and shove my phone in my pocket, already moving for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
I don’t look at her as I go, afraid that if I do, she’ll see the truth written all over my face. The last thing I need is to drag her any deeper into this. As the door closes behind me, I hear her call my name, but I’m already halfway down the hall.
I jog down the stairs, heart pounding, the cold city air hitting me as soon as I step outside. I knew getting involved with Remik could be bad business, but it was a calculated risk. That’s how you move up in this world. That’s how you become ruler of the city. Nobody rises clean.
Even us Volkovs—my family crawled out of the dirt with our own hands and feet, scraping for every inch of ground. I’m not the one who gets squeamish when things get messy. I never have been.
The city rushes by in a blur of lights and rain-slicked streets as I drive toward the docks. My mind is already calculating—what I’ll say, what Remik might be hiding, who else could be watching.
When I pull up to the edge of the shipping yards, Remik is already waiting in the shadow of a cargo crate, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his coat collar turned up against the wind. He doesn’t look up as I approach, but I can see the tension in his jaw, the way he keeps glancing over his shoulder.
“Well?” I demand.
He finally lifts his head. “It’s bad,” he mutters, voice low. “They pulled her out of the water just before sunrise. Police tape everywhere. She’d been in the river a couple days at least.”
I step closer, my voice harder. “Who was she?”
He swallows, eyes darting. “Cops aren’t releasing a name yet, but my contact showed me a photo. It’s the girl that went missing from the club, allegedly. I pulled some strings and found her name was Anya Kozlova.”
“Allegedly?” I ask. “How did she end up in the water, Remik?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this.”
“Well, I have to,” I say coldly.
