Page 1 of Love to Defy You (The Dark Love #2)

Willow

Eight Months Later

It’s a shame to waste a day in Saint-Tropez with my nose stuck in a textbook. A tragedy, really.

I glance up from my study guide and adjust my sunglasses against the twelve-o’clock sun directly above.

Vibrant purple bougainvillea crawl up the walls of the Kurochkin summer villa, surrounding me in their delicate scent that lingers on the warm summer breeze.

A steady trickle of water emanates from the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, and a small bird sits on the edge of the stone basin and chirps as it shakes the moisture from its feathers.

My eyelids grow heavy. The humid air is weighted with the sea salt of the Mediterranean as the waves lap gently against the rocks below the balcony. I’d much rather run down to the shore and dip my toes in the sea instead of taking another practice exam.

Alek applied to go to university in Switzerland, but he deferred for a year to travel with me.

My high school transcript is mediocre at best, and my grades alone aren’t good enough to get into an elite Swiss school, so I’ve been studying all year to take the ACT—again, since I failed the first time—and if I do well, Alek and I can go to college together in the fall.

But I’ve enjoyed my nomadic lifestyle with Alek.

We usually stay in one of the many Kurochkin vacation homes, like this luxury villa here in Saint-Tropez, and stay as long as we want until we get bored.

And then we move on to the next city the way young people do when they have too much money and not enough responsibility.

It’s an endless, decadent honeymoon, indulging every whim and desire whenever and however we want.

This life is a dream that I don’t want to wake up from. When we go back to school, we’ll go back to responsibilities and class schedules and homework, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that just yet.

I snap my book shut and set it aside, then settle back against the plush lounge chair. My string bikini is easy to untie, and I let it fall open to expose my chest to the sun.

Just a quick power nap, and then I’ll get back to studying.

Moments after I close my eyes, a sharp pinch on my nipple yanks me awake. With a squeal, I lurch up from the lounge chair, my sunglasses askew, and glance up at the figure towering over me.

“That doesn’t look like studying to me, malishka .“ Alek’s voice growls with warning as his eyes dip to my bare chest, but the way he licks his lips betrays his stern expression.

My lips curl as I settle back against the lounger and adjust my sunglasses. I make a point to stretch languidly with my arms above my head while arching my back, and I relish the way Alek’s icy blue eyes track the swell of my breasts.

“I needed a study break.” I release the stretch and relax my arms at my sides but not before grazing my fingertips along my sternum, keeping Alek’s focus right where I want it. “Care to join me?”

He rakes his fingers through his sandy blond hair, brushing back the loose strands from his forehead. “I need a little convincing.”

“Oh, do you?” I trail my fingers farther south, down my body until I reach the zipper of my white denim shorts. As I undo the button, I let my legs fall open. “How about now?”

He drags his teeth along his lower lip. “Try harder.”

I hook my fingers into my shorts and shimmy them off, leaving me in nothing but my string bikini bottoms.

“Keep going.” Alek’s throat bobs as he brings his gaze between my legs, to the strip of cloth barely covering my pussy.

The movement is subtle enough that I almost miss it, but his control is slipping.

With a smirk, I tug on the strings at my hips and let the fabric fall.

Alek prowls forward. “If only you put as much effort into your studies as you do to please me.” He yanks his shirt off over his head, revealing the toned muscles of his hard chest. He’s lean but lethal, and he moves like a panther stalking its prey in the shadows.

As he kneels in front of my lounge chair, his eyes are glued to my pussy, and my core tightens with electrified anticipation.

Alek leans forward and wraps his arms around my thighs. With a sharp yank, he pulls me to the edge of the lounger with my legs spread wide, his face only inches from my center. When he inhales my scent, his eyes fall closed, and he hums. “Why are you lying out here topless?”

I try to push my hips forward, seeking his mouth to alleviate the throbbing need between my legs, but he holds me in place. He’s dragging this out on purpose.

“Well, you know what they say.” My voice is stuttered with breathlessness. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Or when in Saint-Tropez, do as the French women do and sunbathe with your top off.”

His eyes narrow as he glances up at my face. “And what if the staff saw you out here with your breasts out?”

I grin. “You know, now that you mention it, the gardener spent much longer than usual trimming the bougainvillea today—“

“What?” Alek digs his fingers into the flesh of my thighs.

“I’m kidding.”

“I’m firing him tomorrow,” Alek growls. “For daring to look at what’s mine.”

Before I can make the case for the innocent gardener to keep his job, Alek dives forward and punches his tongue inside me, making my hips buck against his face. Grinning, I lean back on my elbows and close my eyes to relish the delicious pleasure.

Alek and I have spent the past eight months traveling Europe together, and along the way, I learned how to press his buttons.

Sometimes, I’ll flirt with another guy, just to see his jealous side come out.

A sick, twisted part of me wants to see how far he’ll go to punish the men who dare to flirt back.

But the real excitement lies in the way he punishes me afterward. Nothing turns me on more than watching the cold, calculated layers of control fall away as he unravels with jealousy over me. And the way he fucks me when he’s mad with envy? Possessive. Wild. It’s so fucking hot.

Alek leans back, leaving me a sweaty, panting mess. “You love making me angry, don’t you?”

His mouth is coated in my arousal, which catches the sunlight. Goddamn, he’s beautiful.

And he’s mine. All mine.

I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

With a low growl, Alek flattens his tongue against me and drags it up. I gasp as pleasure races through my body, radiating from my core. The impending orgasm lingers in the periphery, but Alek knows exactly how to edge me toward it without giving it to me.

But the wait makes the eventual climax feel like searing euphoria. In the end, he always lets me have it.

Except for today.

Alek’s phone rings in his pocket, and he sighs against my sex. When he sits back on his knees, I nearly sob with frustration.

Using his thumb, he wipes away my excess juices from his mouth and answers the call. “ Mat ‘.“ Mother.

A spew of Russian vitriol comes through the earpiece, so loud even I can hear it. Alek lets her unload in silence, with only an occasional hum of acknowledgment.

He’s taking a call from his mother instead of letting me come. Glaring at him, I reach down to finish myself off, but he slaps my hand away.

Asshole, I mouth at him.

With a smirk, he covers the mouthpiece of the phone and pulls it away from his ear. “That’s for lying to me about the gardener.”

I stick my tongue out at him as he brings the phone back to his ear. However, his eye starts to twitch the longer his mother carries on. After a few minutes, he says something curt to her in Russian and hangs up the call.

“What did she want?” I ask.

Alek slides his phone back into his pocket with a weary sigh. “My mother has worked herself into a frenzy because Ana’s betrothal fell through. Again.”

“Jesus.” I settle back on the lounger and fold my arms. “She’s only sixteen.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

Ever since the Kurochkin family was exiled from Andarusia, Alek, his mother, Olga, and his younger sister, Anastasia, have been personae non grata in wealthy Russian society.

When Alek threw his support behind the Labor Party, the Russian oligarchs puppeting Andarusia behind the scenes viewed this as the ultimate betrayal of the elite ruling class.

The same ruling class that put the Kurochkins in power in the first place.

Which means Olga has had trouble securing wealthy Russian husbands for Anastasia from their luxury apartment in Paris. Just when Olga comes close to negotiating an engagement, it falls through.

“And what does she want you to do about it?“ I ask.

Alek sighs. “I need to travel to Moscow to take care of some business.”

“Moscow?” I sit up straight. “For what business? Why can’t your mother deal with it? She’s the adult.”

He runs his fingers through his hair again, giving him a wild appearance. “Can we not talk about my mother when my face is buried in your pussy?”

I glance down between my bare thighs, which are still spread wide for him. “I don’t see your face anywhere near my pussy right now.”

He lets out a low chuckle that sends shivers up my spine. “Maybe I should leave you like this, naked and mewling and wound up.” Alek skims his hands up my legs, starting at my knees and slowly working his way up my inner thighs.

My breath hitches as he gets closer to the place I need him to touch most. “Why the hell would you do that?”

His hands stop just short of my pussy. “Because you look so pretty when you’re begging me to make you come, malishka .”

My desire is turning desperate, and I need him to satisfy the painful ache in my lower belly. “Please...”

“Please, what?”

I pout my lip and inject a heavy dose of saccharine sweetness into my tone. “Pleeease, Alek? Will you let me come all over your face?”

Alek’s won this round, and he knows it. With one last smirk, he hinges forward and picks up right where we left off. It doesn’t take me long to find my release, and when I do, I call out his name into the blue sky above our little slice of paradise.