Page 34 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

krasotka

Talia

It hurts to open my eyes. I think I may just lie here with my eyes closed for the rest of my life.

Everything hurts, feels swollen, or aches. Swallowing is an effort. I force my eyes to open, but one doesn’t want to open all the way. My right eye. An area above my right cheekbone stings with tenderness.

It takes a great effort to sit up, and to look around, and then to realize I’m in Boris’s bed at his apartment.

I don’t even remember coming here. The last thing I can remember about last night is fleeing from the nightmare of the evil dudes who kidnapped me, being taken out by some possibly less-evil dudes in a shootout, and then running down a dark street hand in hand with Boris to the sounds of screaming police sirens.

I must have passed out somewhere along the way.

My hand shifts into a warm body and I stiffen. Turning my head ever so slowly, I see Boris lying next to me, on top of the covers, shirtless, his hair askew on the pillow, his mouth parted slightly.

I try to reach out to touch him, but it hurts. It hurts so much. When I moan involuntarily his eyes snap open immediately.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

“Just hurts,” I manage, sounding very garbled.

“Oh, krasotka.” He orders me to drink some water and then forces two huge tablets of extra-strength Ibuprofen down me that have to be swallowed one at a time.

When that’s done, he helps me to lie back down into his soft bed once more.

When I fall asleep a second time, it’s to him massaging my scalp and trailing his fingers through my hair, soothing me with soft touches and comforting me with sweet words.

Whispering to me in Russian.

I don’t know what the words mean, only how they make me feel.

Cherished and safe and precious.

The second time I awaken, I feel so much better it’s downright miraculous.

Boris is still by my side in the bed, looking as anxious and intense as before though.

“You’re awake, krasotka. How are you?” He presses a kiss to my forehead.

“I feel a million times better than before,” I assure him.

“Did they…hurt—“

“No. Just smacked me around a little. Nothing major.”

He lets out a laugh but it’s bitter, angry, and slightly terrifying.

“They’re either dead or in police custody by now, and I’m here safe with you.”

“Thank God,” he says before pressing another kiss to my head, against my hair this time.

“No, thank you, Boris.” I cough, but then I groan because the coughing makes it hurt more.

“Get some more rest, krasotka. No need to rush anything right now.”

“Need to pee,” I say.

“Okay,” he says, rolling away, his feet hitting the floor.

He helps me to my feet, then walks me to the bathroom.

I stare at him until he gets the message that I can do this small thing by myself.

But instead of closing the door, he just turns his back.

I don’t know if he thinks bad guys are going to crawl out of the toilet to get me or what, but he’s clearly not letting me too far out of his sight for the moment.

His phone rings, shrill and hurting my head. He answers in Russian, speaks in Russian. When he hangs up, he says, “All accounts have been transferred. They will not be bothering us again.”

I finish up and wash my hands, then splash some water on my face and try not to look at my reflection in the mirror. It’s not a pretty sight but the cool water feels refreshing and cleansing after my ordeal.

Boris leads me back to bed.

“Thank you.” My voice sounds scratchy. “For coming for me.”

“Why would you thank me? I got you into this mess.”

“You got me out of it. You came for me.”

“But I would have gone to the ends of the earth to get you,” he whispers, his chocolaty eyes boring into me. “I’m so sorry, krasotka. So, so sorry.”

“I had this whole big speech planned.” I swallow and wince. “But right now—“

“Save it,” he interrupts. “There will be another time. Another day. Just rest now, krasotka.”

Another day, indeed.

As I start to drift away with Boris warm and protective at my side, I’m really curious to know the translation for krasotka. “What does it mean?” I ask sleepily.

“Gorgeous beauty.”

I’m pretty sure I’m smiling as I fall asleep.

The next time I wake, I’m still sore, but more aware of my surroundings. I drag on my glasses from the side table and peer at my phone. While I’ve certainly lost track of time, I think I’ve been sleeping for like two whole days.

My mouth feels as dry as a cotton ball and I have crazy bad breath.

Boris is not in the bed to micromanage me, so I get up and shuffle to the bathroom, turning on the shower as I brush my teeth using my index finger and some of Boris’s toothpaste.

There’s an ugly bruise on my cheek, my lip is slightly puffy, and my hands are pretty scratched up.

All in all, it could be worse. Way worse.

I pull off the T-shirt Boris must have put me into—an extra-large Austin Comets tee—and then shimmy out of my panties. When I step under the hot water, it stings at my bruises and scratches but it’s more comfort and relief than anything.

I take my time, closing my eyes as I tilt my head back to wet my hair. It feels exquisite to get clean and wash away the filth of that night. I wasn’t sure when or how I’d wash away the fear and terror of the night…

When I open my eyes, Boris is at the door to the bathroom. The shower glass is clear, and he can see all of me. I stand, hands at my sides, making no effort whatsoever to cover myself.

Boris steps forward, pulling his white T-shirt over his head before exposing powerful thighs and a fully aroused, very beautiful penis when he drops his shorts.

He hesitates at the threshold of the shower, waiting for permission.

I nod, and he steps under the steamy spray with me.

It’s a snug fit for two people, especially when one is as big as he is.

He’s close and his closeness makes me forget my aches and pains. All I feel is desire.

He reaches out and strokes the bruise on my cheek just ever so lightly.

“It will fade.” I remind him that he was hurt too when I kiss the ugly bruises on his ribs and on his side.

Boris nods and swallows back whatever he thought to say. His thumb moves to rub against my swollen bottom lip before he leans in, kissing me, a feather soft thing that does nothing to tame the heat pooling between my legs.

“You said you had a big speech for the restaurant,” he says, taking the soap and washing my shoulders and arms.

“I did,” I answer, smiling up at him. “Basically, I was going to tell you that I care for you a whole lot and I think we should be together. I mean, I was going to be way more romantic about it, but in light of everything that’s happened…”

He grins. “Do you feel that way still?”

“Definitely.”

“Good.” He smiles. “So, tell me.”

“Tell you?” Big strong hands lather the soap gently over my breasts as I close my eyes, sighing with simple pleasure.

“Tell me what you were going to say. I don’t think it is too late.”

His hands roam, fingertips playing at my pebbled nipples, trailing down my slick and soapy stomach. I can hardly think about anything else, let alone all the things I had planned to say the other night.

“I was…” I moan as he fits two fingers inside of me. “I was going to say that I really like you. That I….ahhhh…”

His fingers pump in and out of me, deliciously unhurried. It feels sinfully good, and makes me forget that my face is bruised and my lip is swollen. “Is this okay?” he asks, as if my moans of pleasure aren’t enough evidence of consent.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, it’s wonderful. And I think you’re amazing. Honestly? You’re the best man I’ve ever met. And I’m done pretending I don’t want you, or that I can live without you, because neither of those things are true.”

Boris’s free hand rubs along the length of my spine, down to my rear, cupping one ass cheek, pulling me closer. His erection pushes against my stomach. “I’m glad to hear all of those things.”

“Yeah?” I ask, my lips skimming his chest.

“Oh yeah. Because I feel the same. When I found out you’d been taken—Talia, I am not a violent man, but I was ready to kill anyone standing in my way to protect you.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just reach around, splaying my hands against his broad, strong back.

My fingertips dig into the hard planes of muscle as I press fully against him, skin to skin.

His fingers leave my body but he brings me in even tighter into him, our bodies aligned as we embrace under the steaming water.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he says in my ear.

It’s much too soon, right? Too soon for him to say things like that to me. But my heart is thundering in my ears as I look up, meeting his intense gaze, and I can see that he means it. I can see the emotion in his eyes. And when he kisses me, it’s soft and careful, passionate and protective.

“I feel deeply connected to you, I have for a while now. I tried to keep it professional, but I think this might be the real deal between us. I want to try to make something of it.”

“So do I, krasotka.”

Gorgeous beauty. That Boris thinks of me as a gorgeous beauty is probably my biggest surprise of all, but I’ll never complain about it.

He turns off the shower and wraps me in a big, fluffy towel before taking one for himself. After I’m dry, he leads me to the bed, pressing me back onto fresh sheets and peeling away my towel.

Baring my body so I’m naked, there’s nothing but hot fevered skin between the two of us aching for the other’s touch.

I sink back onto soft pillows and wait for him to join me.

He asks if I want him to wear a condom, saying he will go out and get some if I need him to.

I shake my head no and tell him there’s no need because I get a birth control shot every three months, and that I trust him.

Also that I will die if he leaves me hanging right now to go condom shopping.

He laughs darkly and drops the towel.