Page 28

“That is how we live in the Bratva,” I say, slipping my hands up the back of his shirt, grazing my fingernails down his back. Ciro gasps, baring his teeth and leaning closer.

“Since day one, you have been fucking with me. Trying to get in my head. First the shower. Then sparring…”

“Maybe I want to figure you out? Or maybe I want to get in somewhere else…” My hands explore lower, down his sides, along his abs, inching into the lip of his pants, skirting around to the button, flicking it open.

In response he smiles, slipping one hand around my back, his fingers dipping into the back of my waistline.

“You won’t find anything in there,” I murmur.

“Is that so?” His breath quickens as his fingers spread, showing him that I am not wearing anything underneath. “Bold.”

And I am feeling bold.

Kissing up along the column of his neck, I pull on his zipper, letting the mouthwatering girth push out through his boxers against my palm. He’s so fucking big.

Licking my lips against the urge to swallow him whole. I mustn’t give in…

“I bet you won’t…” he whispers, popping the button on my pants.

“Bet I won’t what?”

“Let me do this?” He cups the back of my head with one hand, drawing me into a deep, sensuous kiss. I give in fully, deeply, flicking my tongue against his playfully, hungrily.

Pulling back, breathless, I lock eyes with him, our gazes simmering.

“And will you let me dothis?”

Squeezing him through his boxers, I stroke up and down firmly, admiring the shape of him through the material.

“Fuuuck,” he gasps, arching his back and flexing in my grasp.

“Who is winning this game, do you think?”

“I think we both are…” Ciro palms my lower abdomen, pressing two fingers between my thighs, rubbing in just the right spot.

“I want to win over and over…” I moan softly, ready to let him bend me over the table.

Which is right about when a loud knock at the door interrupts us.

“Miss Sokolov?” A deep woman’s voice announces.

“Shit!” I curse, buttoning my pants and shoving Ciro away. He immediately stands to attention as the door swings open. “Come in.”

Mira folds her hands, looking a bit uncomfortable or possibly hiding a smile as she looks in. Ciro has the good sense to look dejected, downcast and ashamed like I was just dressing him down for messing up.

“I’ll deal with you later,” I grit out, stepping out into the hall. “What is it, Mira?”

“Your father needed to see you for a meeting. And also, he wanted you to assign this.”

She hands me a file, a couple of photos.

Looks like one of our shipping locales. And some unfamiliar faces giving the owner a hard time. Interesting.

“Shakal,” I snap, and he emerges from the closet, a hint of a glimmer in his eye. Oh, we are so not done with this.

“Mira, tell my father I will be there momentarily. And tell him I will take care of this. I have just the man for the job.”

“For me?” Ciro sniffs as Mira hustles away.