Page 6 of Bound Vows (Empire City Syndicate #3)

Andrei

Violence is foreplay when your sparring partner looks like a goddess and fights like the devil’s favorite daughter.

I watch Maya through the gym’s security monitors in my office, savoring the way her body moves through a series of combat moves.

She discovered the penthouse gymnasium this morning while I was on business calls, and judging by the ferocity of her workout, she’s either preparing for war or working off frustration from last night’s dinner conversation.

Perhaps both.

Maya is wearing nothing but black athletic shorts and a sports bra that leaves very little to my imagination.

Sweat glistens on her olive skin as she flows from one movement to the next with her dark curls pulled out of the way in a high ponytail.

Every hit she throws at the heavy bag demonstrates the lethal training that killed my men three days ago.

Jesus, she’s magnificent when she’s violent.

I close my laptop and head to the gym, telling myself this visit is about establishing dominance and testing boundaries. The truth is far more primitive—I want to touch her, taste her, and claim her in the most basic way possible.

Maya doesn’t even acknowledge my entrance, continuing her assault on the heavy bag as if I’m not in the room. The woman fights like she was born for it, which makes sense, given her family’s business.

“Impressive technique.” I lean against the mirrored wall to study her form. “Though your left hook telegraphs a bit.”

“Thanks for the constructive criticism.” Maya doesn’t break rhythm. “I’ll be sure to incorporate your feedback when I’m killing you.”

“Threats on my life before noon. Someone woke up in a mood.”

She finally stops hitting the bag and snatches it as she turns to face me. As she pants, her chest heaves, lifting her cleavage to the top of her sports bra. “Someone drugged me, kidnapped me, and is forcing me into marriage. Forgive me if I’m not feeling particularly grateful.”

“Marriage to me could have significant benefits. You should consider the advantages before deciding to despise the arrangement.”

She snorts and asks, “Such as?”

“Power. Wealth. The opportunity to reshape the criminal landscape of this city.” I push away from the wall and move closer, noting how she adjusts her stance to maintain fighting distance. “Together, we could build something unprecedented.”

“Or I could just kill you and take everything you have for myself.”

“You could try. Though I suspect you’d find me more challenging than my predecessors.”

Maya’s mouth turns up in a smile that’s just as seductive as it is malicious, though I doubt she realizes it. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a fact. Care to test it?”

She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, Maya launches herself at me with the speed of a professional killer and her right fist aimed at my solar plexus. If it connected, it would hit with enough force to double me over… but it doesn’t.

I sidestep just before she reaches me and catch her wrist, using her momentum to spin her around and pin her arm behind her back. Maya drops her weight and drives her elbow toward my ribs, giving me no choice but to release her or risk serious injury.

“Good escape,” I acknowledge as I circle her like a predator evaluating its prey. “Your father taught you well.”

“My father taught me to survive. Everything else, I learned from necessity.”

Maya feints left and attacks right, using her leg to sweep at my knees while her hands move to distract my attention. I jump back and counter with a grab for her extended leg, but she’s already moving, spinning away and launching a backfist toward my temple.

This time, I duck under her strike and close the distance, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. Maya hooks her leg around mine and twists, using leverage to break my grip and send us crashing to the padded floor.

We roll together, fighting for dominant position while we maintain the pretense that this is about combat rather than the sexual tension sizzling between us. Maya ends up straddling my chest with her thighs pressed against my ribs and her hands pinning my wrists above my head.

“Surrender,” she demands. She’s breathing harder, but the blush spreading across the bridge of her nose and the scorching heat coming from between her thighs makes me suspect it’s not because she’s exerted herself.

“Never.”

I buck my hips and roll, which reverses our positions so that Maya is trapped beneath me. When she licks her lips, my cock twitches behind my zipper.

“My turn.” I grind my hips against hers so she can feel how this fight is affecting me. “Surrender.”

“Go to hell.”

Maya tries to knee me in the groin, but I shift my weight and catch her leg, pinning it against the floor while I settle more between her thighs, and her pupils dilate.

“This isn’t sparring anymore,” Maya whispers, though she makes no move to escape.

“No, it isn’t.”

I lower my head until my lips hover just above hers, close enough that her breath ghosts against my mouth. Maya’s hands fist in my shirt, and for a moment, I think she’s going to either deck me or push me away.

I watch her gaze drop to my mouth, then back to my eyes, then to my mouth again.

Her breathing becomes shallow, and she bites her lower lip as if trying to stop herself from doing something she knows she'll regret.

Her body tenses, every muscle coiling with the effort of resistance.

She shakes her head slightly, but her eyes keep drifting back to my lips.

"Don't," she whispers, though whether she's talking to me or herself isn't clear. Her fingers loosen on my shirt, then grip tighter again. "I don't want—" But the words die when her gaze drops to my mouth again.

To my shock, she doesn’t push me away. Instead, Maya yanks me down and crashes our mouths together with bruising force.

The kiss is nothing like the gentle seduction I might have planned for our wedding night.

Maya bites my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, then soothes the sting with her tongue while her nails rake down my back through my shirt.

I respond by tangling my fingers in her ponytail and tilting her head back to give me access to the column of her throat.

As she kisses me, I feel her resistance in the way her teeth catch my lip—not passion, but punishment. She's angry with herself, angry with me, angry with the heat building between us despite everything.

“You taste like violence and want,” I growl against her pulse point.

“And you taste an awful lot like shitty decisions.” The words come out breathless, but there's self-loathing underneath them. She hates that she wants this, hates that her body is responding to mine.

I feel it.

Maya wraps her legs around my waist and arches against me, creating friction that shoves me across the thin line between sane and certifiable.

She works at the buttons of my shirt as I push her sports bra up and over her breasts to expose the perfect olive skin and dusky nipples that beg for my attention.

Her movements are aggressive, almost violent—as if she's trying to punish us for this moment of weakness.

I lower my head and take one peaked nipple into my mouth, sucking and biting until Maya cries out and bows off the floor. Her hands get lost in my hair as she holds me against her while I worship her breasts with my teeth and tongue.

“Andrei,” she gasps when I switch to her other breast and lavish the same attention on that neglected flesh.

The sound of my name on her lips destroys what remains of my restraint.

I sit back on my heels and strip off my shirt, then reach for the waistband of her shorts.

Even as Maya lifts her hips to help me remove them, along with the scrap of lace that passes for underwear, she continues to war with herself.

Every movement betrays her internal war—want battling against wisdom, desire fighting against self-preservation.

“Beautiful,” I breathe as I take in the sight of Maya Mastroni spread naked underneath me on the gym floor. Her dark hair is fanned around her head, and her green eyes are blazing with desire and defiance.

“Less talking, more fucking,” Maya demands as she reaches for my belt buckle.

The crude words are another form of armor. If she can make this base and meaningless, maybe she won't have to acknowledge what it actually means.

I help her free me from my remaining clothes, then position myself between her thighs with my cock pressing against her slick entrance. Maya is wet and ready. My little Piccola can pretend to be immune to me all she wants, but her body betrays how much this dangerous game affects her.

“Last chance to?—”

“Shut up and fuck me, Volkov.”

By the time the words have left her mouth, I’ve already driven into her with one powerful thrust, burying myself to the hilt in her tight heat. Maya moans and digs her nails into my shoulders as her inner muscles clench around me like a velvet fist.

“Christ, you feel incredible,” I groan as I fight the urge to lose it already.

After I draw in a long, deep breath, I set a punishing rhythm, plunging into her with the same controlled violence we brought to our sparring. Maya meets every thrust with her own, using her legs around my waist to pull me deeper while her hands roam over my neck and back.

The mirrors surrounding us reflect our joined bodies from multiple angles, creating an erotic kaleidoscope of flesh and movement. I catch Maya’s eyes in one of the glass panes and see my hunger reflected at me.

“Look at us,” I command as I angle my thrust to hit a spot that makes her gasp. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

Maya turns to watch our reflection just as I reach between us and find her clit. She holds eye contact as I rub the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight circles while I pound into her.

“Don’t stop,” Maya pants, and her movements are becoming more erratic as she approaches the edge. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

I maintain the pressure and rhythm that’s driving her wild and watch in fascination as she climbs toward release. When Maya finally breaks apart, she throws her head back and screams my name, and her body convulses around me.

The sight and sensation of her orgasm triggers my own, and I bury myself deep inside her as I come with a roar that bounces off the mirrored walls. For several long moments, we remain locked together, breathing heavily while aftershocks pulse through our joined bodies.

Eventually, I pull out and collapse beside her on the padded floor, and we stare at the ceiling while we recover. Maya is soaked with sweat, and her hair has escaped its ponytail to form a dark cloud around her shoulders.

"Why the hell did I do that?" Maya’s voice is raw with self-recrimination.

She covers her face with her hands, and her words come out muffled but anguished.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" She turns her head to look at me, and I witness the moment wariness invades her green eyes again as reality reasserts itself. “This doesn’t change anything between us.”

“Oh, it doesn’t, does it?” I chuckle.

“You’re still my captor. I’m still planning to kill you at the first opportunity.” Maya sits up and reaches for her discarded clothes. “Great sex doesn’t erase kidnapping and coercion.”

“Of course not. Though it does add an interesting dimension to our relationship.”

Maya pulls on her sports bra and stands to step into her shorts. “We don’t have a relationship. We have a temporary arrangement that ends with one of us dead.”

“Or maybe you’ll figure out what we could build together is worth more than whatever revenge you’ve got brewing.”

“Don’t count on it.” Maya heads toward the gym door, then pauses with her hand on the handle. “Though I will admit, you’re full of surprises, Volkov.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Piccola. Before I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging me never to let you go.”

Maya’s laughter chases behind her as she opens the door. “We’ll see about that.”

But the laughter sounds hollow now, forced. As if she's trying to convince herself as much as me. And deep down, I think we both know that the first battle has already been won.