Russian Tattoos Obsession (22 page)

Chapter 44

Swinging

Boris opened my car door and woke me up. As I blinked my eyes open, I saw an airplane. We were at a goddamn airport. “What the hell, man? I thought we were going to a concert. Where are you taking me?” My blabbering questions went unanswered.

Boris popped the trunk, lifted out a Louis Vuitton suitcase, and escorted me down the runway. I had to get my game face on. Like before a match, I cleared my mind of distractions and shut out everything except my Coach’s words of wisdom:

Come out strong. Make them play your game. Be aggressive. Even if you make a mistake, they’ll be afraid of what you’ll do next time. Go for high percentage shots, and keep the ball in play until you can put away a clean winner. And most important of all: Don’t back off if you’re losing. Make your opponent beat you. If you’re going down, go down swinging.

Boris ushered me to the airplane, and I clutched Vladimir’s wager inside my jacket pocket. As we stood at the bottom of the stairs, Boris put his big hands on my shoulders. “Don’t mess this up. I’m going back to the house now. You’re on your own, understand?”

I nodded.

“Good girl.” Before he handed me over, he issued a warning. “Do yourself a favor and don’t bring up alcohol—I mean it.” He patted my cheek and waited for the boss to collect me.

Vladimir padded down the stairs wearing a short-sleeved, blue silk shirt, casual pants, and leather loafers. It was about thirty degrees outside. He greeted me with kisses. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”

I was down, and it was time to start swinging.

***

As the plane headed south, Vladimir popped a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses of Cristal. He picked up my hand, kissed it, and wrapped my fingers around the champagne flute. “To you, my angel.” We clinked and sipped.

The plane cut through the clouds. Vladimir set down our drinks, swept my hair off my shoulders, and kissed my neck. He unzipped my jacket and tried to slide it off.

I held my arms at my sides not allowing him to undress me. I wondered how he would react when he saw my bruises. Did he even remember
he
had hurt me over the weekend?

“What’s wrong?”

Summoning all the courage I had left, I said, “Last night was a mistake. It was a blessing Dad came to the house when he did.”

The boss didn’t look happy. I could see the crazy bubbling up in his eyes so I spoke my mind quickly. “What I mean is, I want you. Your bod makes me hot.” I reached up and rested my hands around his neck and twisted one of his blonde waves around my finger. “No one has ever made me feel so—if we hadn’t been interrupted, I would’ve been yours.”

“We have tonight, beautiful. No interruptions.”

I lifted his hand up to my chest to feel my pounding heartbeat. “See what you do to me? I’ve never been with a man before.”

“I celebrate your choices.”

I slipped his wager out of my pocket and pressed it into his palm.

He unfolded the paper. “Ready to cash in your wager?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

He led me to a seat by the window and sat me down on his lap. With the reflection of the sky behind him, his vibrant blue eyes glowed in the sunlight.

“If I’m being honest, I’ve thought about us…together.” I turned away, embarrassed.

He stroked my hair. “Really? I had no idea,” he teased.

I shoved him in the chest. “Surprise.” I laughed with him, and then I tried to get back to the point. “But I want my first time to be special.”

“Making love is an expression of our commitment to one another. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make sure it’s a night we’ll never forget.”

I knew he wanted me right then and there. I had to swing higher. “By
special
I mean I’m saving myself for my wedding night. I know I led you on last night. I’m sorry.”

“Just when I think I have you figured out, you blow my mind once again. Your future husband is the luckiest man in the world.”

Under his spell, and totally turned on, I wanted to take all my words back and pick up where we’d left off last night.

Vladimir peeled me off his lap, leaned over, and snagged the suitcase. “Let’s see if we can find something for you to wear this evening.” He turned it around so I couldn’t see. “Ah, this is perfect.” He revealed a sexy little red dress.

“Where are we going?”

“Dancing…in South Beach.”

“Ah, that’s sweet, boss.” I was honestly touched by his thoughtfulness.

Vladimir may have had his share of faults, but one thing about him was undeniable: he loved to make me happy. And at that moment, he was checking every box on my sexiest-man-alive score sheet.

When we arrived at the hotel,
I took a solid hour and fifteen minutes to get ready for our hot date. Boris had packed everything I needed: a strapless bra, a clean ace bandage for my ankle, open-back pumps, and a long-sleeved shrug to cover up the thumb bruises on my collarbone, the hoof mark on my back, and the plethora of imprints up and down my arms.

When I emerged from the bathroom ready to rock it, Vladimir was waiting for me with a single red and pink rose in his hand. He had on slick black pants, Bally shoes, and a red shirt unbuttoned a few notches. His devil tat peeked at me from behind the fabric.

Vladimir was a bad guy in some respects, but he wasn’t
all bad
. He would move heaven to hell if it would make me happy. And I knew he would never order his
sovietnik
to coerce me into having sex with him. That was all Boris’s fucked-up idea. If it was just my body Vladimir wanted, he had plenty of chances; the boss was after my heart.

“What are you doing to me?” I giggled at my sophomoric reaction to his hotness. “
Buenmozo
.” I fanned my face.

He spun me around and admired my body. “You are the most beautiful young woman in the world, Carter. You take my breath away.”

I bit my lip and looked away, embarrassed by his unjust flattery. “Oh, please.”

“I mean it, angel. I cherish every moment we spend together.” He lifted my chin, trailed kisses down my neck, and teased me in Russian.

Breathe, breathe, breathe…

Chapter 45

An Imaginary Line

On the rooftop of our hotel, which served double duty as one of Miami’s top nightclubs, I could barely stomach more than a couple of bites of the amazing Cuban appetizers we shared for dinner. The scene the boss had set up was ground zero for my erogenous zone: live Latin music, a packed dance floor, and a devilishly romantic companion.

I rocked my shoulders to the beat of the bongos and sipped my mojito. I’d ordered one for both of us, to thwart a bottle of vodka from joining the party.

“Ready to dance?” Vladimir asked.

“Sí, estoy lista para divertirme contigo, mi amor.”

He licked his lips. “What does it mean?”

“Something good.”

Vladimir guided me to the dance floor and planted his hands on my hips. I curved my body around the beat of the drums, snaked my body around my host, and snuffed out my brain under a pile of humidified, beachy blonde waves.

As I shook it, I leaned my back against Vladimir’s chest and wrapped his arms around my waist to incorporate him into my forbidden dance. I sang along
en español
. He clung to me and swayed to the beat. His skin felt warm and moist from the humid evening air, and his masculine scent, coupled with his wandering hands, made it impossible for me to think about anything except—
us.

After hours on the dance floor, I was a hot and sweaty mess. I’d only had one drink all night, but my energy was zapped. I rested my cheek on his chest and yawned.

He lifted my hair and blew on my neck. “Let’s get you to bed.”

When we got back to our suite, the room was filled with dozens of Vladimir’s trademark roses. Trays of chocolates, cheeses, and breads were spread out on the dining table, and there was a bottle of vodka in an ice bucket on the bar.

“You’re too good to me, boss.”

“You deserve it all and more.” Vladimir held my hand and guided me to the bar. He turned over two shot glasses and picked up the vodka bottle.

I flipped one of the shot glasses upside down. “None for me tonight. I’m exhausted.”

“You don’t expect me to drink alone, do you?”

I lifted my shoulders. If he got angry, and Boris wasn’t here to help me, I would be at his mercy. Sober, Vladimir would never hurt me, but an intoxicated
pakhan
was merciless. My hands trembled. I balled them up into fists and hid them behind my back.

Vladimir set down the bottle and flipped over his glass, too. “Then we won’t drink.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” Vladimir picked up a mini key lime cheesecake and fed it to me. As we noshed on sweets and savories, Vladimir unpacked the suitcase and laid out all the stuff I needed to get ready for bed. Instead of my usual cotton jammies, I got upgraded to a silky white nightie with matching lace panties.

“Need any help?” he asked.

I bit my lip and shook my head, sizing up the king-sized elephant in the room.

His gaze followed mine to the bed. “Don’t worry, angel. A Russian never goes back on a deal. I gave you my word, right?”

The fine upstanding crime boss was going to honor my purity plan? Even after I was all over him for, like, the last six hours? Not to mention, his body had been ready for me since we boarded the plane. He’d also nixed the vodka, which had to be difficult. He honestly and truly was trying his best to make me happy—and he respected me, too.

“It’s not
you
I’m worried about.” I twisted my lips and peeked up at him.

“Don’t worry. I can fight off your advances.”

“That’s big talk. Sure you can take me?” I tugged on his belt playfully, but I flinched when the touch of a man’s belt forced back memories of Boris’s Christmas Eve
coaching
session
.

“You’re a naughty girl, Carter.” He steered me into the bathroom and gave me some privacy.

After I washed up, I emerged in my sexy gown, sporting fresh breath and a clean face. Vladimir was waiting for me on top of the covers. He had changed into a white tank and black silk pajama bottoms. He always wore long pants, never shorts—even when he played tennis. Maybe he was worried his weird tats would freak me out.
Wrong.

He rested his chin on his fist and admired my upgraded nightie. I had strategically placed my hair over my bruised arms in an effort to avoid an issue—if there even was one. I got the sense, though, that in the Russian Criminal Code of Ethics, the lying little weasel in me probably deserved the
lessons
imprinted on my skin.

He drew back the covers and smoothed his hand over the crisp white cotton sheets. “Come to bed.”

I snuggled in, and he adjusted the pillows under my head in the perfect comfy spot. His sexy bedroom eyes melted my resolve. I had zero faith in my ability to resist his charms.

He held up his finger and drew an imaginary line down the center of the bed. “We have a deal, Miss Cook. No crossing the line,” he teased. “Get some rest.”

“I’m not sleepy,” I said before he had a chance to turn off the light.

He sighed and rested his head on the pillow on the edge of our boundary. I imagined how awesome it would be to cross the border and cruise into enemy territory.
Skin on skin, soft lips kissing my neck, wrapped in his strong embrace…

I scooted to the line and snuggled the sheet up to my neck. “Why are
you
the boss? Why not Boris?”

“My papa was the
pakhan
. In my world, it’s like being born into royalty.” He studied my expression. “Do you think I’m a bad guy?”

“Part of you is bad, but you have a brilliant mind and a generous heart.” I eyed the watch tattoo on his wrist. “So why be bad? Why not be good?”

“That’s it? Good or bad, black or white? I grew up in Soviet Russia. My grandfather, papa, brothers—my family was no worse, no less ruthless, than the government that controlled us. My
babushka
served three years of hard labor in the gulag for simply speaking her mind.”

“That’s awful. Does your family still live in Russia?”

He crossed the line and smoothed my hair out of my eyes. “My blood relatives are all gone. Boris and the
Bratva
are my only family.”

“I’m sorry.”             

He rubbed my arm over the sheet. “Are you cold?”

“A little. How long have you known Boris?”

“From the day I was born. He and my papa were like brothers.” He covered me with the throw blanket from the end of the bed.

“Was prison scary? Did you ever see one of those bear-sized Siberian guard dogs up close? Do you have cathedral tattoos on your back, or did they only do that during the Soviet—”

He pressed his finger against my lips to silence me. “My turn.”

I lowered his hand. “You already know stuff about me. I hardly know anything about you.”

“Tell me a secret.”

“No way,” I said.

“You have plenty. Give me one.”

“Fine. Kiki and I are getting an apartment in Clifton. We’re moving into our new place in two weeks. I haven’t told Dad yet. Surprise.”

Vladimir tapped his fingers on his leg as he processed my confession. I thought for sure Boris had already ratted me out, but he had kept his share of secrets from the boss, too.

“I’m a grown woman, but Dad still treats me like a kid. I’m ready to move on.”

He flashed a naughty grin. “Anything I can do to help you move on to womanhood?”

I cracked up. He was so relaxed and
cute
when he was sober. “You promised, boss.” I crossed the line and shoved him playfully. “I need you to be my ‘Just Say No to the Sexy Russian’ buddy.”

His bedroom eyes lit up and he smoothed his hand over my silhouette. “I can do things for you, angel. We can enjoy ourselves without going all the way. I’ll protect your virginity with my life. Trust me.”

His seductive smile and practiced hand dissolved my Purity Plan like acid rain on a paper umbrella. I tried to resist him for, like, two seconds, but the fire burning
down there
had tipped over into Inferno Mode. “Turn off the lights,” I said.

He did, leaving only a sliver of moonlight to lighten the room. Vladimir tossed his clothes on the floor and slid under the sheets. When he lay on top of me, the heat emanating from his strong body ignited the sexual tension that had been smoking between us from the first night we met. His penis hardened as I ran my fingers through his hair and sloppy-kissed his face and neck.

He slid my nightgown off, trailed kisses down my neck, and ran his tongue across my nipples. “Your body is perfection, Carter.” He exhaled a deep, pleasurable grunt, and teased me with Russian words I didn’t understand as he squeezed and sucked on my breasts.

I groaned and swiveled my hips, enjoying his kisses yet longing for him to move his attention further down my body. He understood my need and slid his tongue across my six-pack on his way downtown. Once he landed in the zone, I gasped at the sensual arousal of his oral pleasure. He circled his tongue over and around my clit until the warmth and wetness kicked my excitement over to a new level.

“You want me to take you there, angel?”

I hummed an affirmative
mm-hm,
and he brought his fingers to his mouth and wet them. He slid one inside me and massaged me gently. “You’re so wet.”

My body stiffened, unaccustomed to the new sensation.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered, withdrawing.

“I like your
mouth
.”

Vladimir spread me apart and kissed me passionately between my legs. He swirled his tongue across my sex and rubbed me in the zone over and over and over. My excitement escalated and I thrust my hips against him to increase my pleasure and when I thought I couldn’t possibly feel any better my body stiffened, and I groaned a throaty growl as I climaxed for the first time.

“Oh, Vladimir.” As I came down from my release, I exhaled a sigh of relief as the pleasure he gave me pulsed through my sex. My body relaxed and while my excitement subsided, he nuzzled my virgin skin.

“Your taste is so sweet, angel. Your body is heaven.”

“Thank you for…
that
.” I draped my hand across my forehead as I caught my breath.

“So happy I could please you.” He cuddled up beside.

“Yeah, me too.” I opened my eyes and met Vladimir’s smug expression. “You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?” I shoved him in the chest. “Now it’s your turn.” I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back toward the foot of the bed. Unsure
exactly
how to return the favor, I lay across his chest and stroked his erection. When I got into a rhythm, it pulsed and grew stronger.

At the risk of sounding completely lame, I whispered, “What do I do now?”

“I like what you’re doing, angel.”

“How do I…
make it happen
.”

Vladimir took my hand and schooled me in the ways of how to make a man feel good. Once I felt confident, I teased him with my tongue and moved my hand up and down his length until his excitement peaked. He moaned and panted, even more dramatically than I did, and when he recovered, he pulled my body into his and tucked me into the contours of his body. Naked and intertwined under the sheets, we bonded in a way we never had before. Of course, I was attracted to him, but I felt
connected
to him.

In that moment, I knew Vladimir and I were destined to be together—forever. I rolled over and rested my head on his shoulder so that I could see his eyes. “I love you, Vladimir.”

With an expression of uncertainty, he placed his hands on my cheeks. “I love you too. More than anything in the world.”

My eyes welled up. He wiped away my tears and with them all the negativity about my self-worth I had bottled up for so long. This man, this gorgeous, powerful man loved
me
.

“Oh, Carter. You are the reason I breathe.” He rolled on top of me and kissed me so passionately, I had to fight for air between gasps. I clung to him, trusting my sexy Russian not to take more than I was willing to give. For better or worse, it was our moment, our time, our Day of Infamy.