Avenge: #3 Romanian Mob Chronicles (17 page)

L
ily

I
gave
the apartment one last look, feeling an unexpected fondness for the place.

It had never been a home, but it still meant so much, was the place where I’d found Anton, the one where I’d lost Braden.

Over the years, I had anticipated the call that I would receive, the one telling me that Braden was gone. Thought I had prepared myself for it. Yet another sign of my hubris.

Even after eleven years, time I spent convincing myself that I was ready, I had cried, felt a horrible wrenching pain that seemed to be ripping into me.

I was grateful that he was free, grateful that he would no longer suffer, but I mourned for him, mourned for the life that he would never get to live, mourned for the one I would never get to live.

And it was that mourning, that regret, that had given me the courage to seek Anton out.

It had been ill thought out, perhaps suicidal, but it had been necessary. I couldn’t go without saying what I needed to say, without seeing him again.

I’d mourned for him that day, prayed that he would find some peace in this life even if I did not.

But I had to stop now, had to try to carve a way for myself.

So, with my ID, $600 in cash, and a frayed picture of me and Braden as kids in my hand, I walked out of the apartment one last time.

And directly into a chest that I would always remember.

I stood for a moment, kept my eyes closed, trying to suck in as much as I could of him. After I didn’t know how long, it could’ve been ten minutes, ten seconds, I couldn’t say for sure, I looked up into those dark eyes.

I had thought them cold, fathomless, at first, but that had been a mistake, one that so many had made. They weren’t distant, flat, but instead sparked with emotion, something that the stubbornly hopeful part of me wouldn’t ignore.

“Guess I haven’t learned my lesson about looking where I’m going,” I said lamely.

“I guess I didn’t wake you?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice making me quiver inside.

I shook my head. And then I turned, went to him, wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in his chest, and held him. Held him as tight as I could, as tight as I wished someone had held me. He hated me, had sent me away, but he was here now, and I would hold him as long as he’d let me.

At first he stood stiff, not moving, but I still held him, and after long minutes, he returned the embrace, tentatively at first, but then he held me tighter.

“I thought I would never see you again,” I said finally, not looking at him, my eyes closed as I listened to his heart beat, felt his strong chest against my cheek, took deep inhales of his scent.

“I thought so too,” he whispered.

Something in his voice made me step back, so I did, letting my gaze caress his face. He kept his eyes on mine, stepped closer, lifted his hand to my cheek.

“I still remember his hands on you, those bruises on your face,” he said, barely ghosting his thumb over my cheeks.

“They healed,” I replied.

He didn’t respond. Just stared down at me.

“Why are you here?” I asked a moment later.

“Why do you think?”

“I don’t want to think. Plan. I can’t anymore. But I hope you’re here for me. Hope that you’re here because you love me even a little bit as much as I do you.”

He glared down at me with his expression hard, but I thought I saw his eyes soften, however slightly, though maybe I was imagining it.

“I hate what you did, Lily. What you planned. But you’re all that matters to me. And as stupid as it is, as much as everything I’ve ever believed tells me that I shouldn’t be here, I can’t let you go. I love you, Lily.”

I had closed my eyes, but when he finished I let them drift open and I stared into his, not thinking of how we’d come together, of the pain and destruction, the sadness that had started it all, but instead of the joy that I felt with him, the way that he had reminded me that I was still alive.

“I love you too, Anton.”

Slowly he leaned forward and then brushed his lips over mine, barely touching, but the sensation enough to freeze the air in my lungs, to make my heart beat triple time with joy and not sorrow. It would be fleeting, but I would take it.

He dropped his hand to my waist, touching me as he had so often before he’d known of my betrayal. And more than anything I wished we could go back there, go back even further, before I’d decided to seek my revenge. Because if I had never known him, had never come to love him with all my heart, I would never have had to know the pain of losing him as I now knew I surely would.

My eyes locked with his, I stood on tiptoe and slowly moved forward, not allowing the slight frown on his face to deter me. He’d come here because I meant something to him, but his distance, defensiveness, was unmistakable. And though I’d rarely been so bold with him, if I didn’t try to bridge the seemingly unbridgeable divide that separated us, he wouldn’t.

And so I moved in increments, the moment passing in what felt like slow motion. I put my hand on his side, bracing myself against him, and then I pressed my lips against his smooth jaw, eyes open as I looked to gauge his reaction. He firmed his lips into a thin line, seemingly displeased.

But he didn’t pull away, didn’t do anything to break our contact, and I clung to that piece of information, used it to fuel me. I kissed him again softly, and then, on an exhale, kissed him again and again, moving closer to his lips with each kiss. When I reached his mouth, I moved back ever so slightly, close enough that I could feel his breath against me, the ghost of his lips against mine.

“Lily,” he whispered, the sound of his voice both hopeful and broken, a perfect reflection of what I felt.

“Anton,” I replied, whispering as softly and reverently as he had.

And on the next breath, I pressed my lips against his, sighing at the contact, only realizing when I touched him how much I had missed him.

How much I would miss him when I was gone.

The thought filled me with urgency, urgency that I poured into that kiss, along with every declaration of love I would never be able to utter. As I kissed him, he kissed me back, let his hands roam my body as if he wanted to touch all of me.

He grabbed either side of my head and held me still, stroking his tongue inside my mouth, his movements not the calm, controlled Anton I had come to love. In this moment, he was driven, possessed by the same urgency that filled me, and I gave myself over to it, offering myself to him the best I knew how.

And as he had that first time, he carried me to my bedroom and then stripped my clothes from me, again leaving me bare. I didn’t shy away from it, try to hide, and instead watched him as he did the same, his physical body beautiful, the glimmers of the man that body housed even more so.

He stood in front of me once his clothes were gone, and we watched each other. I realized this was yet another first, only, I would share with him. I’d never shared myself, all of myself, with anyone. But now that there were no more secrets, Anton knew all there was to know of me, body and soul.

Arm extended, he stepped toward me, caressed my cheek softly. I turned into his touch, pressed a kiss against his palm. He broke away and pushed me back to lie on the bed. He lingered for a moment and then joined me.

He kissed my lips softly and then moved down, ghosting over my collarbones, then down to catch the hard tip of my breast in his mouth. At the first swipe of his tongue against the tight bud, I laced my fingers in the hair at the base of his strong neck, wanting to pull him closer, not sure that I could withstand it if he moved.

As he sucked and nipped at the tight bud, he palmed my other breast in his big hand, squeezing with just enough pressure to send me jerking up against him. He didn’t move, though, kept his mouth sealed around one nipple as he tormented the other with his fingers.

I missed him, but I’d never dreamed of him, wouldn’t allow my mind to go there when I knew anything I could imagine would pale in comparison to the reality of him. The reality of him was better than I remembered.

He released my breast with a wet-sounding
pop
, but then quickly kissed me again, moving down my stomach, lower, where he placed a light trail of kisses on my mound. I tightened my grip on his hair, then froze when he pulled away and met my gaze.

Without breaking it, he settled a hand on the inside of my thigh and slowly pushed. I let him lead me and spread my legs, the cool air hitting my hot core and setting off a wave of shuddering tingles. Eyes still on mine, he trailed his fingers up my thigh until they rested at the crease between my leg and pussy.

Then he slicked his thumb down my slit, gathering the wetness that flowed from me freely. That wetness was replaced by more, the heat of his gaze, his warm breath against my skin, sending the need even higher.

When he finally broke my gaze, he leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss against my core.

“Anton,” I called out on a whisper.

He kissed me again. “I wanted to taste you, didn’t think I’d ever have the chance,” he said.

He kissed me again, then again, my breathy sighs coming out harder, faster with each hot kiss. I peeled my eyes open and looked down. The most sensual, decadent sight met my gaze, Anton’s broad, muscled shoulders bunched tight, his dark head between my thighs. The way his tongue stroked inside me, his thumb working my clit, sent me spiraling on a wave of pleasure.

He kissed me through the climax, then climbed up until we were face-to-face. I opened to accommodate him automatically, settling my thighs on either side of his waist.

He entered me, filling me completely in one smooth stroke, my moan and his both filled with the words we could not speak.

As he moved inside me, pleasure built, but I kept my eyes open, watched his face, trying to etch it into my memory, focused on every stray caress, the soft sound of his low breaths as he emptied himself inside me.

Later, he lay atop me, balancing himself on his elbows, and though my body ached, his weight was a welcome burden. I tangled my fingers in his hair, locked my eyes with his.

“I’m happy you’re here, Anton,” I said.

“Are you?” he replied, eyes hooding, hiding his emotions from me.

“Yes,” I said.

“Even though I am who I am? Your enemy’s bastard son, one of the men you dedicated your life to destroying.”

“Yes,” I said.

He looked like he believed me, or like he wanted to, but something held him back.

“You saw what I’m capable of, Lily. That hasn’t changed. That won’t change,” he said, his voice a tortured whisper.

“I know,” I said.

His eyes widened and then narrowed. “And you’re happy I’m here anyway?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“You might change your mind, decide you want your vengeance after all,” he said.

I shook my head, reached up to grab his face, searched his gaze with mine, imploring him to believe me. “I don’t need vengeance, Anton, not when I have you.”

He captured my lips in a kiss.

T
he Mob Boss
: Complete Saga

The Enforcer

The Assassin

The Soldier

The Con

Keep

Fall

Avenge