The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) (23 page)

Long, blunt fingers cradled the back of hers like five, hot strips. She was drawn closer with a gentle tug until her curled fingers grazed the center of his chest. The heat of his skin burned through the thin material of his top, singeing her. Her fingers flexed involuntarily in his grasp, a startled bird too frightened to stay still, but too transfixed to leave.

His gaze sprung to hers, hot and wild behind the gold. His grip tightened by a fraction, a warning that she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted to tell him that wasn’t possible. She wanted to tell him that nothing short of instantaneous death would have pulled her away from him.

“Have you decided what you want?” he countered quietly. His husky rumble glided along the naked skin of her back, making her painfully aware of just how little material actually made her dress.

It had been her idea, not as an act of adult rebellion, but she’d seen it and had immediately thought of him and the predatory glimmer he always got when she showed too much skin. He didn’t think she noticed, but it was a charge in the room that was impossible to ignore. It was a heat that prickled along her skin and made her aware of parts of herself she never noticed otherwise. The dress, the red swash of fabric barely restrained to her shoulders by pieces of thread, was a reminder to him that she was finally legal. That if he’d been hesitating because she was younger, it was no longer a problem. He could finally have her.

Now, she was nervous enough to pee herself. It had all been so clear in her head the entire week, so absolutely planned to the detail, but now, when she stood before him, partially naked, semi aroused, and ready to make the plunge, every nerve ending wanted to run.

“What do you want, Ava?”

The guttural question sent a shower of tingles erupting in the pit of her stomach. It was an intense spike of desire she hadn’t been prepared for. Her body clenched in a greedy, desperate sort of way that filled her cheeks with color from her dress. The excruciating pain thrummed through her in a sweet, silky caress that tore at her senses. The place between her thighs throbbed, a persistent and angry sensation that nearly made her cry out.

“I’ve thought about it,” she blurted, willing her stiff, dry lips to form words she had to struggle to find in the mess of fog in her head. “A lot…” The words rushed out of her in a choked gasp. “I’m eighteen now,” she went on, quicker now as her nerves threatened to revolt. “Legal everywhere in the world. An adult…”

“Yes,” he whispered softly, gaze never wavering from hers.

“We … you and I, we’ve done everything together, right? We … we’re a team, right?”

“Ava.” What little spaced remained holding her sanity in place was conjured by a single, forward step from him. The hand he held was lowered, removing all obstacles between them until there was nothing but a soft merger of their clothes brushing together. “You’re rambling.”

And you’re too close,
she wanted to say. All she could do instead was tilt her head as far back as was possible and find his eyes in the shadows.

It struck her that she could be wrong. What if she was and everything went to hell because she was an idiot?

“Now you’ve left me.” His free hand slipped beneath her chin and held her prisoner while her mind came tumbling back. “Tell me what you want.”

Ava gulped. “You.”

If she’d expected shock, he never showed it. There was nothing but a solemn consideration in his eyes that told her nothing.

Bolder, she tried again. “I want to be with you … sexually.”

That got him moving. He shifted. His mouth quirked on one side.

“I know what you meant.”

Of course he did.

“You didn’t say anything,” she muttered, cheeks burning.

“No.”

Ava stiffened. She blinked. But neither helped filter his refusal properly, nor did it stave away the crash and burn of her heart as it dropped into her stomach.

“What? Why…?” She lowered her head to peer down at herself in the cut of light sifting in through the windows. “Is it me? Am I not what you want?”

“I want you,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted you for longer than I should have, but I want you.”

“Then … why?”

“Paris.”

Ava frowned. “What?”

“Rome,” he went on slowly. “China. Turkey.”

“What are you talking about?”

He smoothed back a lock of escaped hair off her cheek. “I don’t want you to stay here. You have dreams, Ava. It’s on your wall in your room, all the places you want to go.”

It was so ridiculous, she laughed. “To visit and I can still do all that and you can come with me.”

“You know I can’t leave.”

She shielded herself from the negativity of his reminder. “You can for a couple of weeks. We don’t have to go to all those places in a day. Maybe two or three trips a year, or—”

“Ava.” Both hands framed her face, silencing her. “I can’t leave,
myshka
.”

“That’s fine. I don’t have to go right away. Those places won’t just disappear if I wait a couple of years—”

“Stop.” He pulled her closer. “You’re not putting your life on hold for me.”

“Well, I’m not living it without you!” Her hands lifted and closed into the material of his shirt, just on either side of his waist. “I love you, Dimitri. I’m
in
love with you. I always have been.”

She’d said it to him before during quiet nights while they lay facing each other on her bed. She’d peer deep into his eyes and will him to see just how much she meant it. But she wasn’t sure he ever figured out that she’d meant more than just her best friend.

  “Fuck, Ava!” His mouth was a hair width away now, so close they shared every breath, so close she felt the faint hint of his lips against hers.
“Lyubb-lyu tebya vsem sertsem, vsey dushoyu.”

He’d taught her a few phrases in Russian, enough to swear at him and occasionally ask for something. It took her a few seconds to work out the rapid speech.

“You love … pie?”

He burst out laughing, the sound a beautiful crash of an angry storm, violent, deep, and mesmerizing.

“What?” She chuckled. “What did you say?”

He sobered, but the amusement continued to ring through his voice when he spoke. “I love
you
,” he stressed
you
, “with all my heart, with all my soul.”

“Oh.” She struggled with her breathing, but it was all too much. Her stomach had become an explosion of fireflies clamoring in an excited dance. Her lungs ached. Her heart was a mess thumping wildly against her chest. “I really like that.”

He hummed quietly, still quietly chuckling at her.
“Ne magu zhit’ bes tebya.”

Ava gasped. “I know that one!” Lightheaded like the time he’d made her go on the tilt a whirl, she reached for him. Her hands went around his neck. Their fronts aligned and she wondered if he could feel how perfectly they fit. “If you can’t live without me, does that mean you’ll be mine?”

He shook his head slowly, eyes dancing in the pale light. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Heart escalating in ferocity, Ava drew back. She let her arms slip from his shoulders and gingerly took a step back. She held his gaze, unwavering in her decision as she reached for the straps and peeled them over the curves of her shoulders. The material glided the length of her naked body in a cool, rippling wave to form a crimson puddle around her ankles.

She stood before him, dressed in nothing but light from the patio outside and his eyes. They roamed along the dips and valleys of her most private parts in a slow caress, the thoroughness of a man drinking in a sight too precious to take in all at once. He relished in her with an attentiveness that made her feel every second he wasn’t physically touching her.

“It’s all yours,” she told him. “It always has been.”

“Ava.”

The world seemed to rush out of him in that single exhalation of her name. It seemed to deflate and fill him simultaneously.

Without another word, he reached for her. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until his skin had melded with hers, until his fingers had curled into her sides. Her stomach pitched, a violent jerk that caught in her chest. She gasped, but it was shortened by the tug of her fully into his arms.

She was lifted seamlessly and hauled up the stairs to the first bedroom. He dumped her down on the bed without a shred of grace and stood over her, the calm gone, replaced by a furious darkness that was both frightening and exciting.

He cast off her sandals, then tore off his coat. The leather rustled as it struck the ground to the side. His top followed and she was given full view of his hard, chiseled torso, the solid cuts of his chest, the violently carved grooves of his abs, the steely bulges of his arms. He was a specimen of a man, rugged and ruthless. Every flex of muscle as he discarded his clothes made her feel that much smaller, that much more vulnerable and aware of everything around her. Her senses had become a beckon of sensations, feeling everything simultaneously until she was sure she’d go insane with the sensory overload. The world was a cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells and they all raged for attention.

“Dimitri…”

His buckle clattered as it was torn from his pants. It hit the ground next to his top, sounding impossibly loud despite the carpet.

“Open,” he ordered. “Your legs,” he clarified when she couldn’t think past the blood drumming between her ears. “Show her to me.”

Mortification swelled in an angry, hot wave up her neck and flooded her face. It wasn’t enough to make her call stop, but she did hesitate.

“You shaved her for me,” he went on, undoing the snaps on his cargos. “Made her soft and visible for when I put my mouth on your lips and taste you.”

Christ. Who was this person? Not once in eight years had he ever been so vulgar. God help her, but she loved it. Her body loved it. It melted in a hot, sticky puddle against the cool sheets. The heat of her desire had her forgetting all about her apprehensions and doubts as her knees dropped apart with a willingness that showed zero modesty.

He groaned, a deep, almost animal sound that speared her straight where she wanted him. She felt it as surely as though he’d penetrated her. Her hips lifted involuntarily and he smirked.

“Patience, my little mouse.”

She wanted to touch the swollen crest of her mound. She was so close that it would take only a brush of one finger and it would be over, but he’d discarded his pants. The soft material dropped down his legs and he stood before her gloriously naked … and hard.

His cock bobbed proudly from the center of his beautiful body, a rugged, intimidating force taunting her with its length and girth. She’d never seen one up close. She had no idea if they were all that size, if they all had that thick, purple head and sleek, fat body. But it seemed impossibly enormous for what he intended to do with it.

“It’ll fit,” he promised. “Once it does,” he went on slowly, bending over her. “Once I fill you all the way, you will never want me to leave.”

Despite her hesitation, her doubts, and worries, Ava met his gaze squarely. “I want him,” she whispered. “I’ve wanted him for so long. It’s all I could think about sometimes.”

A deep rumble escaped his chest. He stopped, suspended over her with his hands flat on the mattress on either side of her head, and his knees keeping her legs apart wide, and peered down at her.

“Open wider.”

She couldn’t, but she tried until he was satisfied.

He cupped her. No warning until the heat of his palm had settled possessively over her sex, his fingers prying open her lips and delving straight for her core.

She cried out.

“Already so wet.” He circled her opening with the tip of one finger. “Do you feel it?”

He ran her juices from center to clit in a sticky figure eight. He circled the cap before dipping back down to give just the tiniest pressure to her opening before swooping back up again.

The torment had her writhing beneath him, mindless and desperate for every little bit he was allowing her. He watched her. His eyes never left her face.

“Should I?” he taunted, pressing one finger inside her to the first bend in his knuckle.

It wasn’t much but the pressure had her delirious.

“Please!” she blurted. “Yes!”

His finger was so much bigger than hers, so much longer. It invaded the unused part of her body with a swiftness that stole her breath away. She dropped back against the bed, spine arching as he worked in quick, deep thrusts. She was just getting used to the foreign assault when a second finger pushed past the tight ring. Her cries of discomfort were gently shushed by him.

“Don’t stiffen,” he murmured softly. “Let me in.”

“It hurts,” she choked out.

He pulled out, much to her surprise. She expected him to tell her she wasn’t ready if she couldn’t even take two fingers. But he bent his head and kissed her. The sweet lock of his lips against hers melted her into the sheets. He gathered her up close and deepened the kiss. Ava’s head swam in a delicious swirl of colors. Her senses tingled with every loving caress of his fingers following the curve of her side.