Submit (The Underground Book 4) (35 page)

But today she had a plan. And it didn’t involve clothing.

As he bent forward, she silently admired his thick, dark hair. She had wanted to run her hands through it for months. He kept it short, cropped tightly on the sides, but it was still tempting. As he righted himself, she met his gaze. Dark brown eyes that narrowed at her. His skin pulled tightly around them, leaving lines across his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. Dark olive skin that always looked tanned. A bronze God.

Ivan blew out a breath, lowered his gaze, and pushed off the counter. Without a word, he headed for the hallway and disappeared, his damn fine ass encased in perfect-fitting, worn jeans making her draw in a sharp breath.

Strike one. Dammit.

Alena wasn’t going to go down without a fight, however. She set the stupid cold can on the counter and followed him, her feet moving quickly to keep up with his long strides.

She was only five two. He towered over her by more than a foot. In fact he more than doubled her weight too.

She’d been in the United States a year. Her brother, Mikhail, had arrived at eighteen, brought into the country by Anton Yenin, a man who they all now knew had far more nefarious reasons for arranging green cards for six Russian fighters over a dozen years ago. It no longer seemed likely the leader of the Russian Mafia had strictly altruistic motives when he arranged for the six men to fight the underground MMA circuit.

Ivan Belinsky had been living in Vegas when Alena arrived in Chicago. She’d spent the majority of the last year inside first one apartment and then this new place, unsure of her safety. Mikhail had been uncertain, at least. And lately, she had to acknowledge he was right to be concerned.

When Ivan moved to Chicago a few months ago to transfer to a local manager, Abram Gromov, he had almost immediately moved in with Mikhail and Alena, leaving his own apartment vacant.

At first she worried her attraction for him had been a result of too many months in isolation. After all, he was one of the only people she was in contact with—and definitely one of the few men who wasn’t already in a relationship.

She’d been leery of her initial reaction. But after a few weeks, she accepted her attraction as real.

Ivan, on the other hand, was moody and serious too much of the time. Hot and cold with her. The signals she got from him were more mixed than a Long Island tea, a drink she’d never tasted but had seen many times on television.

Anytime they left the apartment, he was on her—in her space, a hand on her lower back or arm or shoulder or hand. He would glance around constantly, his concern for her safety bordering on the ridiculous. At least that’s what she thought weeks ago. She knew better than to ignore their surroundings now.

The man was over six feet. Few people would fuck with him. But those few people definitely included the Russian Mafia leader, Anton Yenin.

She noticed every nuance of his attentiveness, however. Specifically the differences between how he treated her and how he treated other women. Often they were in the company of Mikhail’s girlfriend, Haley, Leo’s girlfriend, Katie, or lately even Nikolav’s girlfriend, Belinda.

The men took turns watching everyone’s back, especially when one or more of them was fighting in an underground speakeasy while the others kept an eye out for unwanted company.

Ivan never once touched Katie, Belinda, or Haley in the same manner. He might guide them through a crowded room with a hand on their bicep or forearm. He might wrap his fingers around someone’s shoulder as a safety measure. But never did he maintain a lengthy pressure to their lower backs or subconsciously stroke a thumb across the sensitive space between their shoulder blades.

Once he most assuredly let that thumb stretch around to glance over the corner of her breast. For five minutes.

As soon as they got back home, he would go completely cold.

But it was the memories of all their public appearances that fueled her to take this calculated risk today.

No matter what results she got, she would never regret the attempt. Even now, moisture gathered between her legs as she followed him. Speeding up, she was able to step into his room behind him before he could shut her out.

He ignored her and continued moving toward his dresser. “I have to go to the gym this morning.”

Of course he did. Like most mornings. Announcing it wasn’t necessary.

Standing in his room in a towel wasn’t necessary either, but here she was. And the man had no more planned to leave this early than she’d planned to go dancing. Now was her chance. She would force him to see her as a woman and openly admit it, or go down in flames trying.

Taking a deep breath, she wandered toward his unmade bed and pushed the dark navy comforter and sheet out of the way. Before he could turn around, she dropped the towel and climbed onto his bed to lie against his pillow. The first inhale brought his scent to her nose and made her bite her inner lip to keep from moaning.

God, she loved that scent. He used the same soap as nearly every man in the house, but on him it was somehow different. His own personal musk mixed with it to create a lethal combination that had her salivating.

She took another deep breath and waited for him to turn around.

When he did, he stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze wandering over her body, his mouth hanging open. He blinked several times and then licked his lips. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead.

Score three.

The gym shorts he held were forgotten and slipped through his fingers to land on the floor. “Jesus, Alena. What the hell are you doing?”

She shrugged, letting him wrap his mind around her blatant proposal.

Finally, he took three long strides to reach her side, hauled his comforter over her trembling body, and sat on the edge of the mattress.

His brows were drawn together, and he stared at her face for long moments. “You’re trying to seduce me.”

“Ya think?”
Is it working
?

“You can’t.” He shook his head.

“I beg to differ, since I actually am.”

“No. I mean you
can’t
. Nothing can happen between us. Ever.”

“Don’t even try to tell me you haven’t felt the same heat between us I feel. I won’t buy it.”

He shook his head again. “It wouldn’t matter if I did. You’re my best friend’s sister.”

“And there’s a law concerning that?”

“Bro code.”

She chuckled. “Bro code? Tell me you aren’t serious.”

“Totally. And besides, you’re way too innocent for a man like me.”

“A man like you? Human? Sexy? Built like a bull?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t. Enlighten me.”

“Dominant. Demanding. Possessive.”

She knew that. Every bit of it. Did he think she was in the dark about his tendencies? “Maybe I like those qualities.”

He groaned. “Well, get over yourself, because this is never going to happen.”

She sat up, letting the sheet fall to her waist so her breasts were exposed. Her nipples hardened into stiff peaks. The globes felt heavy with desire.

“Alena…” he warned, his gaze honing in on her chest. He turned away. His chest rose and fell with every breath. “Go back to your room. Don’t do this. I won’t mention it again.” He stood and padded away toward the door.

Strike two.

Desperate, she decided it was too late to go back now. The damage was done. Neither of them would ever be able to forget this happened. The awkwardness would forever hang in the air between them. So she had nothing to lose. She would keep pushing.

“Kiss me. How much harm could that possibly do? Kiss me, and let’s see where it leads.”

“Not going to happen. It wouldn’t matter where it leads, we can’t follow down that path.”

“And yet I disagree.”

“Too bad.” He held the door open as if it would swing shut on its own if he let go, trapping her in the room with him for a lifetime.

“I’m not leaving.”

He chuckled. “You weigh about a hundred pounds. You’re doing whatever I say.”

“Fine. Then you have two choices—kiss me right now or pick me up and carry me from the room.”

He groaned, his shoulders falling in defeat. After several seconds, he lifted his gaze. “Why do I think I am so going to regret this?”

She smiled.

Score four.

∙
•
∙

Ivan blinked several times slowly, unable to comprehend what the hell was happening here. It seemed as if he’d fallen into The Twilight Zone. Insanity.

Was Alena Dudko seriously lying naked on his bed begging him to ravage her? He peeked up to find her still there.
Not an apparition then
.

Surely he was asleep. Dreaming. The best dream of his life, but still not a real experience.

In fact, he’d had this dream. Dozens of times in the last few months.

No. That wasn’t true. He’d never had this particular dream. He’d never pondered this perfect scene awake or asleep. He’d visualized himself with her, kissing her, groping her, stroking his fingers over her wet heat through her jeans. But she’d never been naked. He hadn’t dared permit himself to let the dream get that far.

Jesus, her body. All that creamy white skin that went with her long, blonde, wavy hair. And fuck him, the curls between her legs were just as blonde. He couldn’t breathe. Her skin looked even paler against his dark navy sheets. She stared up at him with deep penetrating blue eyes, forcing him to shake himself out of a trance.

Alena Dudko was off limits. She was Mikhail’s sister, and she was unbelievably innocent for a twenty-eight-year-old woman. He hadn’t asked, but he would bet his last dollar she was a virgin.

He shuddered. No way could he kiss her. He wouldn’t be able to stop with that, and then he’d be in over his head.

But he also couldn’t carry her delectable naked body from the room.

Shit.

She was persistent. But she had no idea what she was asking of him—a warm-blooded dominant male.

The clock was ticking. If he could, he would turn around and leave the room. But that would do a lot of damage. She would be pissed. Probably never forgive him. And not only did they live together in this three-bedroom apartment, but he was frequently her main source of protection when they left the house.

He wanted her to see reason, but hadn’t he been trying that angle since she first walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but that tiny sad excuse for a towel that wouldn’t have had the absorbency to dry off even his legs?

And now? Jesus. Now she had dropped the towel and was currently contaminating his sheets with her scent—floral shampoo and body soap that on another woman would have annoyed him, but on her it smelled like perfection. Every fucking day.

And now that her perfect naked body had lain on his bed, he would never be able to rest fully there again.

Alena had curves. She was tiny and short, but that didn’t keep her from having full breasts, a narrow waist, and flared hips. All things he’d perfectly envisioned for months without her taking off her clothes. Now her nudity would be permanently burned into his mind.

Both a gift and a burden.

Fuck.

He didn’t even have the ability to leave the apartment. No one else was home, and no way in hell would he leave her alone. Ever.

Had he caused this collision of events? Had he paid too much attention to her? Given her the wrong impression? Flirted with her?

Probably all of those things. Or maybe none of them mattered. Maybe she would have been right here right now in his room this morning no matter what he’d done in the past.

He was flattered. Hell yes. At least he knew she was attracted to him. Misplaced though her attraction might be.

On a deep breath, he decided the best of his limited options was to give her what she asked for and kiss her. He could keep it chaste. A peck. Nothing more. Uninteresting. Ruin her vision of what it might be like. Send her packing.

He strode forward until he reached her side. “One kiss. Under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You cover your breasts immediately, and you go back to your room and get dressed right after.”

“That’s two conditions. Pick one.”

Damn infuriating woman.

He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t test me, woman. I’m not in the mood.”

She smiled up at him and batted her eyes flirtatiously. Exaggerating the gesture.

She also did nothing to cover her delectable breasts that taunted him with their youthful bounce and pert pink nipples. Not that she was all that young. She was a grown woman. But everything about her screamed innocence and youth.

She leaned forward instead of following his directive, reaching out with one hand to stroke his cheek. He hadn’t shaved that morning, so his beard was rough and scratchy. It didn’t deter her. He wanted to lean into her touch and close his eyes, savor the feel of her small white hand on his jaw.

But he forced himself to remain still until he couldn’t take another second of her touch. And then he grabbed her wrist with one hand.

Before he could stop himself, he pounced forward, shoving her onto her back once more and hauling that hand over her head to pin it to the pillow.

Her mouth fell open on a sharp gasp seconds before he took her lips in a kiss.

Not the kiss he’d intended. Not a chaste peck on the lips. Nothing that could be misunderstood for friendship.

No. Of course not. Ivan angled his head to one side and immediately stroked his tongue across the seam between her lips, demanding entrance.

He had to taste her. If he never got an opportunity like this again, he had to know her flavor.

And he was not disappointed. She tasted minty from her toothpaste with the hint of the syrupy soda she’d taken one sip of.

He needed more. He leaned closer, angling his head to one side to slide his tongue deeper into her mouth.

She met him halfway, her small, tentative tongue stroking across his. Her soft lips teased his mouth. When she licked across the edges of his teeth, he stopped breathing. Nothing existed in the world outside of this kiss with the very woman he’d dreamed of possessing for months.