“Are you all right?” He sounds somber. Like he’s worried he did something wrong.
“You didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Your throat…？”
“You could’ve squeezed twice as hard, and I wouldn’t have felt it.”
He exhales in relief. “Breath play can be dangerous. We should’ve talked about it first. Had a safe word.”
Dear god, hearing him say “breath play” and “safe word” makes my imagination run wild with every kinky scenario people can engage in, in pairs, trios, or groups.
I picture him in the middle of a writhing pile of naked bodies at a sex club, godlike and glistening as he fucks every random hole in sight, and feel as if I might faint.
“Here’s a safe word for you: I have zero interest in hearing about your past sexual experiences. The thought of you doing what we just did with another woman makes me want to bury a hatchet in your chest and set you on fire.”
After a moment, he says, “That’s too long for a safe word. Hard to remember in the heat of the moment.”
I hear laughter in his tone, the bastard.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do,” he murmurs, squeezing me. “You’re jealous.”
“Pfft.”
“Deny it all you want, but I didn’t mention anything about my past. I simply suggested we needed to communicate about what we do together, then suddenly you were threatening me with death.”
Embarrassed because he’s right, I hide my face in the crook of his neck. When he softly kisses my throat, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I know exactly how you feel.”
“You do?”
“Why don’t you bring up your blond bodyguard again and see how I take it?”
That dials down my aggravation to a manageable degree. I burrow closer to him, closing my eyes. “No, thanks. But can we talk about what happened at dinner?”
He peppers soft kisses down my throat and along my collarbone. “What happened is that you sassed the king of the Bratva, and he loved you for it.”
“You’re sure he won’t change his mind later?”
“I’m sure. The man hasn’t had anyone dare to even raise their voice to him for twenty years. He found your angry little speech very entertaining.”
“I can’t figure out why he was so mad at you, though.”
He pauses kissing me to say thoughtfully, “Me neither.”
“Are you not allowed to kidnap people?”
He chuckles. I take that as a no.
“What were you guys talking about in Russian?”
“Mostly business.”
“Did he tell you how he found out about me?”
“No. I asked if it was the man he sent me to in New York to help me find Declan, but he said it wasn’t. Said it was a dead man, an old friend of his who knew everyone and everything.”
“A dead man? Does he spend a lot of time on a Ouija board talking to spirits?”
“I didn’t understand it either, but Pakhan said he wanted to introduce me to him.” His voice drops. “Now that he’d met you.”
“Me? What do I have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know.”
“This is all very strange.”
“Yes. Especially the part where he told me to take a vacation.”
I lift my head and look at him. “A vacation?”
“A month off,” he replies, nodding.
“Has he ever given you time off before?”
“Never.”
“Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“I do.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
He smiles. “Take a month off.”
A dangerous thrill goes through me, like I’m standing at the edge of a perilously high cliff, looking down. Aiming for nonchalant, I say, “Where will you go?”
His smile is indulgent. “Look at you, trying to act innocent. You know exactly where I’ll go.” He presses the softest of kisses to my lips. “And with who.”
“To the cabin,” I whisper, kissing him back. “With me.”
Rolling on top of me, he takes my mouth in a deep, hot kiss, curling his hand around my throat as he does it. “Yes, with you,” he says, voice husky. “My mouthy little captive.”
I wrap my arms around his back, shivering in delight at the feel of his big, strong body against mine. “Your wrinkled gray tissue someone left in their pocket too long.”