Page 23 of Scarlet Promise (Yegorov Bratva #4)

Chapter Seventeen

ILYA

“Alina!”

She’s in my kitchen when I get home, a delightful surprise, and one I want to spend time unwrapping.

I take her in.

She’s perfection. That’s my first thought.

The second is panic.

Even though she looks wonderful to me as always, and not as pale as yesterday, sh still looks tired. Worse, her eyes are haunted like she has something big, something… I suck in a breath. What if it’s bad news? A rush of panic hits me.

“Did you go to the doctor? Did?—”

“You made me the appointment. You didn’t have me followed?” Her smile’s infectious.

I shrug as I come up to her, breathing in her fresh, soft, flowery scent. “I figured your brother had that covered.”

She rolls her eyes.

“So you just broke in to see me?” I ask.

Exaggerated horror hits her face as she gasps, but she can’t stop her smile at my teasing words. “No. Svetlana let me in. I know I don’t live?—”

“ Malyshka , where I am is your home. I hope you know that.” I kiss her softly, stroking her tongue with mine, reveling in the sweetness of her mouth, the heat of her in my arms. Too soon, I break the kiss. “What did your doctor say?”

“I do know that,” she whispers, “and I have news.”

“News?”

“Interesting news.”

“Your doctor gave you interesting news, like stock tips or movie-star gossip?” I frown at her, and she laughs.

“Better.”

“Than stock tips?”

She nods. “And celebrity gossip.”

Now I frown at her in earnest. “I don’t…”

“Ilya…I’m pregnant. We… We’re pregnant.”

I stare at her and whoop out a “ da !” Grinning like my face is gonna split, I haul her into my arms and kiss her hard, spinning her around. I’m floored. Completely.

“This is definitely more interesting than tips or gossip. Malyshka …I don’t have words. I’m so fucking happy. A baby? Us?”

She looks at me and suddenly smiles, a tear slipping free as she lets out a small sobbing sound.

“You’re happy?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I take a breath, because the last thing I want to do is push, yet it’s the very thing I need to do. “Are you? Are you sure? It’s okay not to be. It’s okay if you don’t know how to?—”

“Ilya.” She takes my face in her hands. “I am happy, very happy. And I know how I feel. I knew immediately. Did I take a walk and think about it and wait for guilt? Yes, but this is right. It’s you and me. No guilt, just…happy.”

That makes me exhale a silent breath of relief.

“This is the best news, Alina. The very best.”

A bark comes from behind me.

I grin. “You brought Albert?”

“Of course,” she says. “He went upstairs when we got here. I think he was napping on your bed.”

That sounds like Albert. Shy and sweet until he’s safe, and then the shyness melts away until he’s happy and confident. And he has no troubles claiming what’s his, like my bed. The little rascal.

His tail thumps my leg. He looks up at me like he’s smiling, doggy-style. “He’s happy, too.”

I kiss her again, taking my time, showing her how I feel as I stroke my tongue lightly over hers, teasing out the kiss to soft and tender, only to deepen it in a wave of love that wells up from within me.

I’m so fucking turned on by this. By her. But I also need to show her the love that’s so big inside me.

I slip a hand down between us over her flat belly to rest it there.

There’s a difference, I realize, between understanding the way biology works and the idea of what’s just happened. The fact that I did this. The fact that it cements her as mine. Like I’ve marked her in the most primal way possible.

“So you really are happy?” she asks breathlessly.

“Never been happier in my life. And that’s a high bar to beat when it comes to you, because, malyshka , you seem to occupy all my top happy moments.”

She blushes. “Oh, Ilya…”

“Our baby. Yours and mine, Alina. I fucking love the thought of having a baby with you. I can’t wait to watch you get big with our child. I can’t wait for you to?—”

“Eat for two and start waddling?”

“It’ll be the sexiest waddle in the world.”

She squeezes me tight.

“As amazing as it’s going to be to watch you grow, I’m fucking turned on by the thought my seed did this. That filling you made something that binds us together. My virility claimed you.”

The words are over the top, but I mean every one.

She blushes. “Yes. I know.” She pauses. “We made a baby, Ilya.”

I kiss her and lift her in my arms, taking her down the hall and up the stairs to my bedroom.

The manly sofa I’m not that fond of mocks me in the corner, and though I’ll move it, I decide now’s the perfect time to claim that as ours. I drop her on the leather and reach beneath her dress to pull her panties off and kiss my way up her thighs.

“Oh, Ilya,” she whispers. “I want…”

“To enjoy this.” I go back to kissing that warm, soft, delicate skin.

She’s divine, the way her thighs quiver, and when I bite her with a tender touch, she gasps like I’ve almost triggered an orgasm.

So fucking sensitive. I can’t wait to taste her cunt. I could have fucked her an hour ago, and the time between would have been too long.

I gently push her back as I part her thighs, hooking them on my shoulders. She’s like a flower I want to see bloom open. I trace my finger down along her slit, over the petals of her lips. Her skin it hot velvet and damp, and getting damper.

Slowly, I lower down and lick her. She tastes sweet, and I breathe in the musk of her.

She shifts to bring her clit closer to my ministrations, but I know how she comes harder when I take my time, when I tease, when I leave the best for last.

I push my tongue into her, mimicking my fingers and cock, opening my mouth to encompass as much of her as I can.

Alina moans, and I push two fingers into her instead, curling them to stroke her G-spot. Her pussy is so fucking slick and inviting. It sucks at me as though she’s swelling and grabbing at me to stay, to go deeper, to take all there is within her.

She’s a haven from the storm. She’s her own storm, one that’s breathtaking, wild, and mine. One that has fires that flare and deep, dark pools of delight agitated into a world of pleasure with each strike of her lightning.

She’s a world of her own. Alive with energy that answers mine.

I feel that deeply as I lap her outer lips, slide my tongue between the inner ones, and thrust in and out of her slick canal.

I’m addicted to her taste, to the way she moves, undulating underneath me.

With her third whimper, I give in to that wordless plea and close my lips around her clit, sucking and playing it with my tongue.

She gasps and stiffens. I go in harder, enough to send her over the edge and for her tunnel to clench in spasms on my fingers. She loses control and shakes, her voice rising when she cries out my name.

Even though she’s still coming, I stop. I need to be inside her, need to see if I can push her back up to the top.

I stand, pull her up, and move her to the bed, kissing her as I strip us both.

Her fingers fumble with my pants, and it strikes a chord in me. I did that to her. I made her so eager, so mindless, that she can’t quite get her digits to work.

It’s a power that swells like pride. It makes me harder, more desperate for her than ever.

With our clothes strewn on the floor, I drag her to the bed, push apart her thighs, and sink into her depths with one strong push.

As wet as she is, there’s still delicious resistance, the stretch of her to accommodate me.

As I start to move, I bite down on her shoulder, slamming into her as deep as I can. Her cries spur me on, and all I can think is this is us now. We made something special, unique. Ours.

I can’t help it. I’m fucking harder than I’ve ever been. I never thought I’d be a man driven by the idea of virility and seed, of making a baby.

But this is Alina, a bundle of things that attract me so deeply, things that have nothing to do with her body or face, but with everything to do with her and who she is. The gift that makes her so…her.

Fucking her reflects that. She sucks me into her, and her movements meet mine.

We surpass the act of fitting together, of our movements guaranteed to draw out the best response.

This is chemistry, a coming together, a finding of each other.

It’s a celebration, and as we kiss, the world shifts.

Her hips, each time they lift to take me in, contain an offering that slides like an electric touch down my spine.

I can’t get enough of her.

Of the world we create together.

She starts to clench around me, to spasm.

I grit my teeth, pushing through that orgasm as it gets hotter, tighter, better, and my own is there, hovering, begging release of its own. My body tingles, and the urge that makes my balls tight zooms up my cock, pushing me toward the inevitable.

As Alina cries out, I can’t contain myself. I thrust in deep, holding there as my cock pulsates, releasing more seed into her.

We both seem to fly, locked together, kissing and tasting, passion in every caress. The aftermath almost feels like a different sort of coming, like if emotions can orgasm.

I hold her as we come down and roll onto my back, easing out and holding her against me, letting her fall into sleep.

Later, as we talk about nothing and everything, there’s a difference in her I pick up on. No, not a difference, a distraction, like a part of her is somewhere else.

“What’s bothering you?” I ask her in Russian. “And don’t lie. I can tell.”

She heaves out a breath as Albert scrambles up on the bed and forces his way in between us. Though he allows me to still hold her, I do have to move to let him take a nice warm spot.

Alina pets his soft fur. Slowly, she explains to me about the shelter and how she wants to buy the land.

“You can’t just buy the business?”

“No,” she says. “The block was for sale, and I think I can buy it with the right offer, but that’s a lot of money. Like a chunk of my trust fund.”

“I’m guessing that means you need Demyan’s permission to access it.”

“Yep.”

I sigh. “Talk to him. Demyan loves you, Alina. I can’t see him denying you anything.”

“I can.”

“Well, he’s a stubborn ass, but as I said, he loves you. I think this could be a way forward to help mend the rift. It would give him the feeling of being involved. Don’t you think?”

“Maybe. I hope so.”

“Demyan might just surprise you.”

She slaps me playfully on the arm. “I’ll think about it.”

I sit up, and Albert gives me a side-eye.

“Let’s celebrate.”

“Ilya, it’s too early.”

“I meant the baby.”

She smiles. “So did I.”

“We can celebrate the fact that no matter what happens, we got pregnant. So if this doesn’t work, we can do it again. Just…”

She nods slowly. “I’ve never been pregnant. I never tried, but…I get it. Okay.”

“If you’re up to it, that is, I say. There’s a new Italian place?—”

“Occo? I’ve heard amazing things about it. Can we get in?”

“I can do anything. For you.”

“Well, for you, I’ll try and keep the food down.” Her lips twitch.

I kiss her. “Sorry, Albert. You stay here.”

He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Get ready, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

She nods and gets up, sweeping up the sheets and trailing out with Albert on her heels to her room.

I shower and dress then head downstairs to call and get a table at Occo, which doesn’t take much more than my name and an unspoken tip to the host.

Afterward, I pour a bourbon, and then I plunge in and call Santo.

“You understand why I reacted as I did?” I say carefully.

“I do.”

“I was wrong.”

“You need my help.”

“That,” I say, “hasn’t changed. We can still help each other.”

He’s silent, and in that quiet, I can hear all the things he wants to say. All of it would be true, from not having Demyan’s support to being too na?ve.

Maybe he doesn’t say it, because in the end, there’s a line between making alliances and grudges. He’s choosing the former.

I hope.

“I’m happy to help. More than happy,” he says. “Whatever assistance you need, I’ll provide. For a price.”

“Which is?”

“A portion of the Belov Bratva’s territory and weapon production operation.”

“The last part is in Russia, and that’ll mean a meeting with that faction,” I say.

“You’re the pakhan, both here and there. They do what you say. It’s how it works. Like I’m the don.”

I knew it’d cost me. I just never imagined it would cost this much to ask for help. Perhaps there’s room for negotiation over the territory, a sharing, or a reduced amount. I don’t know. We aren’t hammering that out here.

But it’s still a huge price tag.

The only other choice is to let Simonov and Melor tear me to the ground when they make their move. Even if I kill Melor, Simonov is big. Too big. If I kill him, his second would step in with severe retribution.

“If I agree—and the terms are still to be set—then I’ll do so on the condition that this repays my previous debt.”

“Of course,” Santo says, “but only because I’m such a nice guy.”

We hang up.

And I can’t help but think that I may have signed my soul to the devil.