Page 47 of Scars He Gave Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 2)

His gaze flicks down to my lips.

“Just for tonight, okay? It doesn’t mean anything more than tonight.”

He doesn’t answer with more than a smile and his arms around my waist.

“And my way. I’m in charge.” While I’m pushing my luck, I might as well push all the way.

His tongue swipes across his lower lip. “As you wish.” He says it in a way that makes me understand I haven’t been in charge since the moment he burst out of that closet. But it’s a nice fantasy—pretending I still have a handle on things. Even if it’s a bold-faced lie.

I take his hand and pull him to the bathroom. I want this to be slow and sensual, but I can’t wait for him. Now that he’s here and I can see and touch him, there’s no way. This is going to be fast, hot, greedy sex. The first time, anyway.

I reach into the shower and twist the control for the dual shower heads in the ceiling, then the one for the wall jets. When I turn back, he’s watching me. He knows he’s making it hard for me to keep it together enough to watch him strip his shirt off, flick open the button to his pants, slide the zipper down, then yank me against his chest for a kiss as steam billows around us, and my lips part on their own.

“Undress me.” I can barely breathe enough to force the words out because he’s kissed me so damned hard, I don’t have one remaining conscious brain cell. I am running on feeling and nothing else.

His hands slip from my back around so that his fingers are pushing the hem of my shirt up while his thumbs drag along my stomach and end up brushing over my nipples. While he shoves the shirt further out of the way, he bends and swipes his tongue over my nipple through my lace bra. My back arches. I yank the bra out of the way and over my head.

He takes a second to stare at me, and the look is so hot I moan. “You’re beautiful, Corrie. I want to devour you.”

Then his mouth is everywhere. My throat. My collarbone. My jaw. My earlobe. Left nipple. Right nipple. And when I’m about to melt and the temperature in the bathroom has climbed to sun status, he spins me so my back is against his chest, his mouth is on my shoulder, and his hands skim down to my waistband, slip inside.

I wind my arm around his neck and hang on as he grazes my clit with his finger. I want to be undressed and in the shower, but my head is thrown back, and my breath is shallow and short, not enough to speak. Steam curls around us, and he uses the hand not teasing me to shove my pants down so I can step out of them.

A second later, he withdraws his hand, and I whimper because I want it back. But he turns me into him, pushes off his own pants, then guides me to the shower while our lips are fused together.

He lifts me and presses my back into the tile wall. I wrap my legs around his waist, the tip of his cock toying with my pussy as he uses it to tease me until I’m writhing and clawing, moaning and begging.

“Please, Tommy.”

“Please what?” He slides his tongue along the vein in my throat. “Tell me what you want.”

I want everything. But right now, I want his dick inside me. “Please fuck me.”

“As you wish,” he repeats. Smart-ass.

But I don’t have time to snap back, because before I can say a word, he’s inside me in one smooth thrust, swollen and hard, thrusting and withdrawing with such authority I can only ride along. It’s glorious. I can feel the muscles in his back expanding and contracting as I hang onto him. The sounds he makes are like music, but better, more erotic, more sensual and exciting.

My legs squeeze around him and the tension in my body coils. I’m panting and begging. I need to come, but I don’t want this feeling to end, this delicious, body-against-slick-body friction. I buck my hips one final time in rhythm with his.

The world shatters. I thrash against him while he holds me in place and throws his head back on a thrust and a shudder.

“You want to move to bed now?” He leans his forehead against mine as water sluices over both of us.

No other words have ever been so magical.

14

Tomas

Climbing out of bed this morning—not to mention the last three mornings—wasn’t easy, but today is my weekly meeting with my father and Bogan Dubrovsky doesn’t take hot sex as an excuse to skip it. Well, maybe he would if he thought I was fucking Katerina. I don’t know. I don’t care, either.

Right now, he’s too busy yelling for me to get a word in, so I lean back in the chair and fold my hands over my abs. I can wait for his tantrum to wear itself thin before I explain why this situation with the hackers hasn’t been handled.

He tosses a folder across his desk. “Sixty-one thousand dollars. Yesterday. And you’ve done nothing!” His accent is strong today. It always thickens when he’s angry.

“I am doing something. I’ve got someone working on it.” Should I mention Corrie or not? I choose not. “The program they’re using is a special virus. Every time we block it out, a new doorway opens up and attacks somewhere else.”

My father yanks his file back to the blotter in front of him and stares down at the pages inside, muttering under his breath in Russian.

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