Page 11 of Den of Thieves

“Liar! How many women have you hurt?”

“None.”

*Crack*

“Just one, I swear!”

Anton was openly bawling now, but his confession fell on deaf ears. She wished she could say that her repeated strikes with the whip were her form of justice, but Aksana no longer saw Anton as the man before her. He was now a myriad of people. People that hurt her physically and emotionally. People like Butrov and Leo Py’er, but also Dimitri for teaching her how to love and breaking her heart for good when he decided he’d had enough.

Strong arms wrapped around her middle and Aksana screamed bloody murder.

“Boss, stop. It’s me.” She stopped struggling and Venchi gently placed her on her feet. She winced, knowing he was going to have bruised shins from her platform heels come morning.

“I know he is not good, but you don’t want to kill him.”

Aksana frowned, still gasping for air. Did the bastard deserve it? Probably. But Venchi was right.

She looked down from the bloody man splayed out on the couch to the whip in her hand. At some point, she switched ends and let the thick metal rod fly towards her target. Her fingers loosened until her makeshift weapon clanged to the floor.

That was when she realized Venchi’s hands were still around her waist. And she was close enough to feel something else thick and hard poking her through the thin material of her dress.

“Venchi?”

“Da?”

She turned around slowly and let her fingertips skim up his shirt. Past his well-defined abs and pectorals. Venchi was more than a bodyguard to Aksana. He was her rock. In many ways, he was her subconscious. His steady mind and firm presence kept her from veering off the deep end so often, it was a wonder she survived without him for so long.

Aksana knew Venchi had feelings deeper than friendship for her. She wasn’t blind. But she never looked at him that way. Until now. He was always so serious, even now when the mood had clearly shifted in the room.

It should have come as no surprise when she stood on her toes and gently pressed her lips to his. Venchi’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t pull away at first. He stood there, solid as stone, until Aksana’s gentle kisses became more urgent. Her tongue demanded entrance past his lips to tangle with his. Only then did Venchi force her a step away with a restrained sigh.

“Not now. Not like this.”

“You don’t want me?” She responded with a flirty smile.

“I worship the ground you walk on, but you are hurting.”

Did Venchi know that telling her ‘no’ turned her on so much? Probably not, but that didn’t stop it from happening. Venchi, still stoic as ever, frowned.

Aksana, never one to be deterred, let one tear roll out of her left eye. “The pain is consuming me, Venchi. I need you to help me forget.”

She watched as he contemplated her motives. A part of her felt bad for taking advantage of him, but she couldn’t deny the adoration in his eyes. He-that-should-not-be-named used to look at her like that. She wanted that feeling of being important to someone, being loved by someone that didn’t have to. She craved it like she did her next breath.

Venchi’s hands were still on her waist and the bigger than average evidence that he wanted this was still standing proud. This time, when she kissed him, he pulled her tighter and his tongue plunged past her lips.

For such a stoic man, he knew how to kiss. Every time his tongue invaded her mouth and threatened to suck the soul out of her, she felt a tingle of awareness straight to her dripping core. His dominating nature had her climbing him like a tree as his massive hands held her with ease.

“I want more, Venchi,” she moaned.

“Not yet.”

He groaned when she swiveled her mound against his hips.

“Give me one reason we shouldn’t.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I only had one vodka,” she hummed, trailing a finger along his cheek. They both knew that wasn’t true.

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