Page 33

“Two more,” he says.

I shake my head and reach for his shoulders, but stop when I realize how clean his suit still is.

He pulls me flush against him and leans down for a kiss, but I turn my head and lean away.

“I just threw up and I’m covered in blood. I need a shower,” I explain.

“I don’t care,” he growls.

“Well I do. Let’s get everyone checked by the doctor and cleaned up, then you can kiss me,” I demand.

He relents and leads me to the car. I stop him from opening the back door and motion for him to put me in the front.

“I don’t want to scare the kids,” I say.

The brutal glint in his eyes softens.

“They are worried you are hurt, not scared of you,” he says.

A lump forms in my throat, so I shake my head and push forward. He relents and settles me into the passenger seat.

“Is Mama okay?” Maksim whispers.

My shaky breath feels loud enough to crack the world in two.

“Yes, Maksim, I’m okay. I just need a shower,” I say.

“Thank God,” he sobs.

My heart squeezes. Zoya sniffles and sucks her thumb. I don’t dare turn and show her my bloody face.

For the briefest of moments, Artur’s hand settles on my shoulder, and I freeze on instinct. He gives me a pat before sitting back.

Dimitri drives us the rest of the way to the hospital, and by the time we get there, Giorgio, Aurora, Tristan, Fiero, and Loretta are there with at least twenty soldiers.

My knees threaten to buckle when I stand, but I hold on to the roof of the car and maintain my balance by sheer force of will. Zoya sniffles again, and I long to hold her to my chest, but the drying blood feels tacky against my face and neck.

We enter the emergency department as a group. I accept a ride in a wheelchair when my ankle and hip worsen. The nurses escort us to the VIP suite, but I don’t want a doctor prodding at me in front of the kids, so I request the room next door.

Dimitri studies my eyes before nodding and stepping forward as though to come with me. I lift my palm in the universal sign for stop.

“Loretta can come with me. You stay here with the kids,” I demand.

He shows his displeasure in the tightening of his eyes, but he relents with a nod.

Too exhausted, I disassociate the moment we pass the threshold.

Loretta pushes me into the next room and waits without judgement as I give the doctor—a woman I’ve learned to trust throughout the last few months—a quick recap of today’s incident.

She offers several pain medicines, but I refuse everything except NSAIDS.

I don’t want anything to impair my judgement tonight. I’m done letting my past control me. I’ve decided to become Dimitri’s bride in every sense of the word when we get home.

Home isn’t the townhouse. It isn’t a place. It’s the group of people I love most—my kin, found family, and friends.

A nurse brings a plastic wheelchair. I transfer over to it and let Loretta wheel me straight into the shower.

I let the cool water wash over my head, waiting to strip off my clothes until the worst of the filth swirls the drain.

Loretta adjusts the temperature. Steam rises.

A few minutes later, she turns off the water and offers me a towel. My skin glows a light pink. I dress in the scrubs they offer and leave my face bare and my hair loose, too impatient to return to the other room to fiddle with makeup.

When Loretta wheels me into the VIP suite, Zoya stands stubbornly in front of the bathroom, refusing to go in with anyone. Her eyes light with hope when she sees me. I offer her my hand and lead her in for a quick wash, closing the door behind us for privacy.

She refuses to let me take her stuffed animal, so I dab at the spots of blood as it sits in her lap while she changes her shirt.

The look of pride on her face when she settles the fabric into place fills me with wonder.

Even though it’s backward, I don’t suggest changing it.

If this is the first time anyone has ever allowed her to dress herself, then I won’t discourage her.

I kiss her forehead and brush her hair back from her face. We share a moment just being with each other, and she pats my chin as though to tell me everything will be okay. I give her another kiss and lead her back out into the room.

The doctor orders tests for Dimitri’s concussion. My husband tries to brush the woman off, but I weave my fingers through his and tell her to run them all.

Less than an hour later, with the kids napping on the couch after pilfering the four trays of food the nurses placed on the coffee table, the doctor assures us he shouldn’t have lasting symptoms.

With my fears eased, I let Aurora and Loretta take over packing our things while the men do the heavy lifting.

Dimitri places Zoya in my lap in the wheelchair.

She wakes for a moment, cuddles against me, and goes back to sleep.

Artur rubs his eyes and stumbles after Tristan and Aurora.

Maksim wraps himself around his father and promptly drools all over Dimitri’s shoulder as he snores.

We make it to the townhouse without issue and settle Zoya in bed beside Artur even though it’s the middle of the day. Before we even close the door behind us, all three of them are sound asleep.

Dimitri crowds me against the wall without touching me.

“You owe me a kiss, so?lnyshka ,” he murmurs.

I grab his nape and close the distance between us, desperate to ease the ache in my core and eager to join our bodies as closely as our souls are interwoven.

His delicious scent fills my nostrils as his tongue invades my mouth. I devour him and still need more. He nips the tip of my tongue with just enough pressure to pull me out of my mania.

I hiss and pull back. He grabs my ass and lifts my feet off the floor.

A flash of horror streaks through me as his hands first touch my ass, but with him filling my senses, I banish my nightmares and tighten my grip on his nape. He groans into my mouth as I wrap my legs around his waist and grind my pussy against his stomach.

“I need to taste you,” I demand.

He chuckles and sucks my earlobe into his mouth as he turns and stalks down the hall.

“You can put your mouth on me whenever you want, so?lnyshka , but tonight I will worship my queen with my tongue first,” he whispers.

Goosebumps rise on my flesh. I run my lips over his stubbled chin and lick the corner of his mouth. His low groan vibrates deep into my bones. My core clenches.

No pain rises. I marvel over the slickness in my panties even as apprehension builds in my chest.

He’s so big everywhere and it’s been close to a year and a half since I had sex. Plus, the months of recovery weigh heavy at the back of my mind, but I want him as I have never wanted another man before.

“Dimitri,” I manage through the electricity zapping through me as he flicks the tip of his tongue over my jawline.

He steps into the master bedroom and locks the door behind us before gathering my hair in his fist and pulling my face back to study me.

“Yes, so?lnyshka ?” he asks.

“I love you.”

The words spew from the bottom of my heart and out through my mouth before I can catch them. Pure delight shines from his sky-blue eyes, and I realize I wouldn’t take the words back if my life depended on it.

My angel of death stole his way past my defenses and built me into a stronger woman. He gave me patience and unwavering support as I battled my demons. His voice pulled me from nightmares while his children gave me purpose.

“I am obsessed with you too, Camilla,” he rumbles.

My stomach flips even as I laugh and tilt my hips, mashing my sex against his hard shaft.

“I like those words, even if they aren’t the ones I want to hear the most,” I say.

He sits on the side of the bed with me in his lap. I press my heels against the mattress behind him and bracket his ribs with my knees as he frames my face with his gigantic hands. He brushes his thumbs over my features, lingering over my scars.

“I love you, Camilla. All of you. Your scars, brokenness, stubbornness, and resilience. I love every part of you,” he declares.

Happy tears well in my eyes, but I don’t want to cry. I want to satisfy the heat pulsing between my legs and the hunger lurking in his gaze.

“I want to have sex tonight,” I announce.

His thighs bunch, and he pulls his lower lip into his mouth before dropping his fists to the mattress.

“Declaring our love does not mean we must have sex, so?lnyshka . We can go at your pace,” he promises.

When I grind my pussy against his lap, he groans, nips my lips, and flexes his fingertips against my scalp.

“I may be no schoolboy, but I need you, Camilla. If you keep—”

I shift my legs until my knees sink into the mattress on either side of his ass and I roll my hips. Electricity zaps through my clit.

I need more.

“Slow down, Ca—”

“No. I don’t want to wait any longer,” I snarl.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes. I’m so fucking sure I ache for it, mio marito .”

I grow more reckless as the fire in my blood burns hotter, yanking apart his suit lapels so hard buttons skitter onto the floor, and shoving the fabric off his shoulders as though it offended me.

He groans and kisses me with desperation but doesn’t lift his fists from the mattress.

I long to have his hands on me, and I trust him wholeheartedly, but I don’t want to have a panic attack and lose momentum, so I strip and kiss him with all the wild abandon I wish we could share without fear.

The textures of his skin and chest hair mesmerize me, and I explore him with a boldness I’ll ever only know with him.

I slip my hands down his arms, spread my fingers over the back of his, and guide him through undressing me, the moment unbelievably erotic. He gives me control while holding all the power, never taking his hungry eyes off me.

My nipples pebble in the cool air. Needing his touch despite the nightmares lurking in my thoughts, I skim his massive hands up my torso and moan as he cups my breasts.

I shove his hands away as memories plague me. He holds them above his shoulders and breathes through his nose as he grits his teeth.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Do not apologize. I am yours. Use me as you need,” he says.

The honesty in his eyes is a balm to my soul.

With our upper halves naked and our pants unfastened, I plaster my front to his and kiss him with the yearning overflowing my heart.

He whisks me to the height of pleasure with his hungry claiming of my mouth.

I whimper as the hard planes of his chest flatten my breasts.

Too hungry to wait, and frustrated over my mini freak out, I stand and remove the rest of my clothes before tugging Dimitri’s pants and underwear off his legs.

I feast my eyes on him as he sits in all his naked glory. His scars and tattoos are only the decorative paint on what was already a perfect canvas, but my mouth waters as his cock jerks under my gaze.

I lower myself to my knees, my joints swollen and sore, but my need to taste him too great. He hisses and groans when I wrap my hands around his base and take him into my mouth.

He tastes divine. Salty, musky, masculine. I revel in the power he gives me as I pleasure him with my tongue and lips.

“Enough, so?lnyshka , or I’ll cum in your mouth,” he growls.

His thighs bunch and cock pulses in my mouth. I pull back and release him with a pop. He groans.

I use his knees for leverage and climb to my feet. He lets me push him flat on his back and crawl on top of him.

His fists twist in the sheets at his sides as his eyes roam over me with hunger and awe.

When I straddle his hips, he pierces my soul with his eyes.

“Sit on my face, so?lnyshka . I want to taste you first,” he demands.

Helpless to resist, I follow his command and gasp as he worships me with his mouth.

He growls when I pull away right before I orgasm, then hisses when I settle my hips over his and glide my sopping pussy along the underside of his cock.

Electricity zaps from my clit to my core and all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I fit the head of his cock to my entrance. My thighs burn and knees ache, but I lower myself in tiny increments, gasping and trembling at the glorious stretch of his invasion. He destroys the sheets and murmurs filthy words of praise.

I’ve never felt more cherished. More accepted. More loved.

He holds back for me. He gives me everything while patiently supporting me as I adjust to both his size and the demons warring within me.

Sweat drips down our bodies. Sunlight streams in through the windows, brightening the room more than the overhead lights can manage. Our scars stand in stark contrast, our bodies so different they somehow fit perfectly together.

Except, when I look down, he’s barely halfway inside me.

I struggle to breathe. My insides ache.

“I can’t take anymore. You’re so big,” I gasp.

His masculine smirk clenches my core, making us both groan.

“You feel so good, so?lnyshka . This is more than enough,” he murmurs.

My leg muscles burn. I brace my hands on his chest.

“Help me,” I snarl.

He quirks a brow.

I guide his massive hands to my ass and shiver as ghosts threaten to ruin the moment, but his eyes keep me in the present. I lift up and down in a slow, experimental stroke.

It’s so good. So overwhelming. Too much but not enough.

“Help me,” I demand again.

“Of course, so?lnyshka . Whatever you need,” he vows.

He lifts and lowers me with his hands on my ass, controlling pace and depth until the world centers around the smooth, wet glide of his cock invading and retreating.

Pressure builds in my core. I tilt my hips as he lowers me. His cock hits a sensitive spot inside me.

I explode. Fireworks burst throughout my entire body as my insides clench and wetness gushes around our joined bodies.

He curses and jerks his hips, hitting the spot again and launching me into an impossibly deeper, more intense orgasm.

Euphoria fills his face as he finds his release inside me, his cock pulsing and tip spurting. Warmth spreads from my depths to my extremities.

I sag as every cell in my body becomes mush.

He rolls us onto our sides and brushes my hair back from my face.

I fall asleep between one breath and the next, more satisfied than ever before.

I found my future. My partner. My lover and friend.

He gave me everything: his name, wealth, family, and children, and asked for nothing in return, but I couldn’t deny him.

Dimitri Volkov, ubiytsa of the most powerful Russian bratva family, owns my heart.

And I own his.