Stripped (43 page)
“No,” he murmured as he bent forward to catch a droplet of water with his lips. “Look at me. No barriers. Let me in, Natalya.” His scalding gaze latched onto hers as he thrust in high.
He filled her to perfection. His body, slickened with water, heated from desire, merged with hers. The innumerable pressure points of contact overwhelmed her. He was there. Everywhere. Forcing her to be right there with him, and dear God, she didn’t want to resist. She couldn’t imagine making love to Brandon any other way but with every portion of her being. Pleasure pulsed through her veins, and her vagina clamped around his thick length.
She angled her hips and fastened her hands on his shoulders to stop the sudden dizzying pitch of the shower floor. He pushed in again, rolled his hips to stroke her clitoris, and a pleasured cry slipped off her lips. She blinked, only for an instant, unable to stop the reflexive action, then locked onto his soulful stare once more. In those tawny eyes, emotion glinted bright, and she knew instinctively, he’d managed to unveil the same unfettered feeling in hers. How could he not? She was completely, devastatingly susceptible to this man.
“Brandon,” she exhaled as a tidal wave of bliss built to a slow rise.
“I’m here,” he whispered. He hit her hard and deep, his breathing matching the velocity of hers. “Always.” For one brief moment, he broke their spellbinding eye contact to plant a firm kiss on her mouth. “Always.”
Natalya curled her nails into his shoulders as he increased the tempo. His promise, something she was certain he hadn’t intended to say, combined with the staggering intimacy of looking into his eyes when they were as close as two people could be, sent her crashing over the edge. Ecstasy stormed through her body. She cried out with the force of it, dimly aware of his hoarse shout.
B
Stepping away, he tossed the towel onto the toilet and gave her a smile that disguised his internal quaking. “How about Chinese for dinner?”
“That sounds good.” Her fingertips dragged down his arm, as if she too shared the need to maintain contact.
Right now, though, Brandon needed distance to digest how easily and unexpectedly a man could fall in love. Even when he’d sworn never to do so. When he didn’t
want
to.
Only, as he left the bathroom and tugged on clean clothes, he realized it was no longer a question of want, or intentions. It was damn well happening, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to cut off this flowing channel of emotion.
No. No, he didn’t. It was the most frightening experience he’d ever known—worse than any narcotics sting gone bad. Yet thrilling all the same.
The sensible thing would be to take her back to her condo, drop off her car, walk to Fantasia, and let her go before he couldn’t. He’d fired
her; they’d identify the killer, and he’d have no cause to see Natalya again. Further, he didn’t need any more reminders of the danger he’d dragged her into. If he walked away now, the mafia couldn’t use her as a tool to get to him.
Yet, he couldn’t. He could tell himself day and night all the reasons that he
should
, but he couldn’t shake the instinctive awareness that cutting her out meant carving off a piece of him he wasn’t ready to sacrifice.
“Holy shit,” he exhaled as he stepped into the hall and pulled the bedroom door shut behind him. “This isn’t real.”
Any minute, he’d wake up on the couch, Natalya still in his arms, and discover everything that had happened today was all just part of a wicked nightmare. His ability to love had died with his family. Fifteen years of cold, unfeeling existence didn’t just change in a mere four days. Unlike Rory, he couldn’t see himself behind a desk, taking the safe approach and settling into a
family man.
While he couldn’t see himself doing undercover work the rest of his life, either, desk jobs were just too boring and the department had made it clear he wasn’t likely to make it into organized crime in this lifetime.
Maybe homicide. Yeah. If he solved this chain of murders and dragged in a serial killer, he might well convince Joe to let him stay on homicide. That’d keep him out of the station and relatively clear of bullets. Long hours, but still enough time in the day to come home and—
Shit! He squeezed his temples with the base of his palms. No. He was
not
going to start down those paths. Allowing her to rummage through his bathroom drawers did not equivocate to
giving
her one of her own.
Though a second razor was a necessity. No way in hell would he allow her to use his. He’d seen what could happen to an unsuspecting man’s face. Vaguely he remembered carving up his own when his twelve-year-old sister had gotten her hands on his razor the summer between his freshman and sophomore years at college. Hell, he’d
prided himself on his ability to outsmart that female instinct by keeping them
out
of his bathroom. He refused to join the ranks of men who jumped into their cars with tiny pieces of toilet paper stuck to their chins.
A wry smirk twisted the corner of his mouth as his unease settled, and he began to find humor in his predicament. On the positive side of things, he’d definitely found a way to dissuade her from stealing his razor, and it hadn’t even provoked an argument.
A thump drifted through the walls as she rummaged around in his bathroom, doing God only knew what. He liked her there. Really, truly, liked her there.
“You about ready to go? I’m starving,” he hollered.
“Coming. Just finishing up.”
His blissful little reverie shattered at the sound of an engine’s roar. He glanced up, looking out the window as a car rushed by. Like snapshot images, the warnings of danger flashed in his memory: the Peeping Tom, smashed chocolates, vandalized car, massacred bird, and one little boy used as a message bearer. Chills invaded his blood. Natalya was in very real danger. He didn’t dare leave her at Kate’s or her condo or anywhere alone tonight. And he didn’t want her at the club where she could get herself into more trouble.
He fished his phone off the island and dialed Aaron.
“Yeah?”
“I need you to handle the club tonight.”
“What the fuck? I’m stuck in California, man. I’m going to be late myself.”
“Stuck?”
Aaron’s harassed sigh drifted through the line. “Blame it on Rory. I told him to meet me, and I sat around and waited on his ass. He didn’t show. I’m just now getting to Newberry. I’ll be another three hours, easy. If I can catch up with him when I get back, he’s evidently got something from Russia for us.”
From Russia? Who the fuck did Rory know in Russia? Brandon
dismissed the oddity and glanced at the clock above his couch. “It’s just shy of five now. Give Jill a call, have her handle the back of the house. Have Sergei handle the front till you get in.”
“What are you going to be up to? Or do I want to ask?”
As Natalya stepped into the kitchen, Brandon’s gaze wandered appreciatively over the short hem of her jeans shorts and the loose, linen top that dipped daringly low across her breasts. “Probably not. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, whatever,
Lieutenant
.”
Brandon disconnected and shoved his phone in his back pocket. He passed Natalya her purse, grateful that at least one of them would have a gun on hand if things got worse. He didn’t dare bring his without a jacket to hide it in, and the muggy weather made jackets ridiculous. That sixth sense so integral to a cop’s survival, warned him things weren’t as calm as they seemed.
T
“It’s beautiful out here,” she murmured, afraid the sound of her voice might disrupt the serenity.
“It’s better than the flash and bang of the Strip, that’s for sure.” He tipped his head to take in the full moon. “I get sick of all that, to tell you the truth.”
Leaning sideways, she touched her shoulder to his. “Kate and I camped on the California side when we were in college. We went in the spring and the fall. Right after classes let out and right before they began.” A wistful smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Been a long time.”
“What did you think the first time you saw the Canyon?”
She shook her head, still awed by the magnanimity of standing on the rim and looking down on the mighty Colorado. Even after fifteen years, she could remember the moment a naïve, Old Believer girl from Nikolaevsk, Alaska, had looked out over the terracotta cliffs and realized how vast the world was.
“Yeah,” Brandon whispered as if he could hear her thoughts. He glanced at her, the light behind his eyes soft and intimate. “Maybe I could convince you to come camping again with me. Last time I went, Stefan was still alive.”
Her heart stumbled into her ribs. Throughout the night, little comments here and there had given her the impression Brandon was hinting at permanency. Nothing she could concretely identify as a long-term outlook on their involvement, but subtleties that left her wondering if he’d shared the same soul-shattering experience she’d encountered in his shower.
What she’d give for a normal life and the ability to indulge in possibilities. Her answer came in a whisper even she had to strain to hear. “Maybe.”
“What was it like in Russia?”
Natalya shivered, despite the temperate air. The truth tumbled free without hesitation. “I hate Russia.”
“There’s nothing you like about it?”
“We have beautiful buildings.”
They fell into silence, and Brandon leaned back, covering her hand with his. After several moments, he broke the quiet with another question. “If you could go anywhere in the world, no limitations, where would you go?”
She chuckled to herself. She’d been to most of the major cities throughout the world. A few days here, a few months there—most recently three years in Moscow. But as the Eiffel Tower and the Great China Wall surfaced in her mind’s eye, the answer resonated in her heart.
Home.
She missed her family. Missed the quaint old-world ways, though she and Kate had long departed from the Old Believer Orthodox
teachings. A few days in the village might just be the thing to restore her spirits when she left Vegas.
“Alaska,” she answered as she squinted at the high North Star. “I’d like to go to Alaska and watch the Northern Lights over the glaciers.” Her gaze skimmed sideways to meet Brandon’s. “You?”
“I’ve never seen the Northern Lights.”
“You’d like them, if you like this.” She gestured at the bright illumination on the horizon. “They make that neon glow flat-out ugly.”
Brandon twisted to face her more fully. He brought one hand up to the side of her face, his expression sedate and meaningful. His thumb caressed her cheek. He said nothing, merely searched her face for something Natalya couldn’t comprehend. Answers? Another attempt at breaking into the depths of her soul?
Before she could ask, his mouth feathered across hers. Their breaths mingled for a prolonged heartbeat that stood Natalya’s nerves on end. Then, offering fulfillment she hadn’t even realized she’d been craving, he slid his tongue along the inside edge of her lower lip and touched his tongue to hers.
She melted into his arms, sitting up to loop her wrists around his neck. His hands dropped to her waist, and the firm press of strong fingers conveyed a deeper passion than his possessive kiss. That strange, unnamable sensation surfaced again, hungry for undefined fulfillment. Something more than sex. More than the ecstasy his body gave to hers.
Pulling away, just as she began to drift on the tide of rising emotion his gentleness provoked, Brandon’s mouth hovered over hers. “I need to make love to you.”
Make love.
Since when had they moved beyond fucking?
The shower.
He’d felt it too.
Oh,
God.
“Now?” she asked, overwhelmed.
“Right now.” Emphasizing his insistence, he tilted her hips into his so she felt the firm press of his cock. His breath scraped along the side of her neck, his words a low murmur. “With the wind in your hair, and your eyes twinkling like the stars.”
Excitement danced in her belly. It was truly shameful how easily he lit her up. But instead of fighting the call of arousal, she embraced it and looped her arms around Brandon’s neck as she eased into his lap. He plucked open the buttons on her blouse, teasing each inch of flesh he exposed with a nip, a lick, a nuzzle. When his lips grazed the thin satin of her bra, he pushed the cup down and drew her nipple into his mouth.
Natalya arched her back, lifting her breasts closer to the magic of his tongue. Her hands plied at his shirt, tugging it free from his jeans, and pushing it up so she could explore the tight contours of his body. She loved touching him almost as much as she loved his hands on her.
Brandon rubbed his cheek against her breast and lifted his eyes to hers. “You’re so damned beautiful. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This ache for you won’t stop.”
She felt it too—the constant need to be as close as humanly possible. And she told him so by rolling her hips forward and grazing her damp center against the bulge behind his fly.
“I touch you, Natalya, and I have to be inside you.”
Her mouth curved with a tender smile. “I’m not stopping you.”
That was all the encouragement Brandon needed. His mouth latched onto hers, his kiss as feral as the coyotes howling in the distance. He did away with the last of her pesky buttons by giving the opened panels of her blouse a tug and popping the chips of pearl. As her hands dipped to his waist to free his impatient cock from the confines of his jeans, Brandon dragged her body flush with his. The press of his bare skin intoxicated her. Her womb contracted, and she let out a soft moan. “Brandon, God I lo—” She pressed her lips to his to stop the sudden rush of words.
Love you.
She’d almost said it.
Holy shit.
Covering up her nearly fatal confession, she whispered, “Love the feel of you.” To further distract him, she nipped hard on his lower lip. “Take me.”