Endless love a psycholog.., p.16
Endless Love: A Psychological Romance, page 16
Forcing my thoughts away from the throbbing between my thighs and the possibility of what Ivan is doing outside, I finish my shower, drying off with the thin, rough towel on the hook outside. I drag on a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt that I got when we went shopping, hoping that the less-than-sexy outfit will be enough to deter Ivan from kissing me again. From wanting me. But the minute I walk out of the bathroom, he looks up at me, and I see his gaze darken.
When he stands up, I see the outline of his erection, still pressing stiffly against the fly of his jeans. I see the muscle in his jaw twitch as he walks past me, my breath caught in my throat at how unfairly gorgeous he is.
He’s going to jerk off in the shower. I know it. There’s no way he’s going to deny himself that relief. The door closes hard behind him, and I sink down on the edge of the bed, gripping the sides of it as if it takes physical effort to keep from following him into the shower.
I could have him inside of me right now. I feel that throb between my legs, my chest constricting, the thought making me breathless.
I can’t pretend that I don’t want him. But I can fight it.
I flop back on the bed, turning out all the lights except for the one right next to me as I skim through a book, not really focusing on anything on the pages. Twenty or so minutes later, I hear the shower turn off, and Ivan walks out, still toweling off his wet hair. He’s put on a pair of sweatpants and nothing else yet, his t-shirt tossed over the arm of the chair, and my stomach tightens at the view of him shirtless, his chiseled torso covered in swirls of black ink.
My fingers itch to trace over those lines. To slide over them until he’s hard and begging for me to touch lower. I want to repaint those designs with my fingers while I slide my lips over him, feeling every muscle twitch as I run my lips and tongue over his cock. I want—
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I roll over on my side, trying not to look at him, trying to push that image out of my mind. I don’t know why tonight it’s harder than ever to ignore my attraction to him, but it feels like my body is screaming for him to touch me. For me to touch him. For us both to forget all of the reasons why we’re not supposed to do this any longer and just feel.
I hear the familiar sound of him getting out blankets and pillows to sleep on the floor, and guilt once again washes over me. It’s not fair, and I know it’s not.
“Come sleep in the bed.” I roll over to face him, feeling a small burst of relief when I see that he’s put a shirt on. “There’s enough room for us both. You shouldn’t keep sleeping on the floor.”
In the low light, I see Ivan’s jaw tighten as he spreads a blanket out. “It’s fine,” he says tersely, his voice so tight that I wonder if he didn’t get himself off in the shower after all. If he’s still just as frustrated as I am.
Or maybe it’s not enough for him, either.
That thought makes the muscles in my stomach tighten, desire pooling lower, that tingling shiver washing over my skin. I force it away, focusing on the conversation at hand.
“You’re driving constantly,” I argue back. “You should get to sleep in the bed, too. I can put pillows between us, if the idea of accidentally touching me in the night bothers you so much.” The last comes out more acidly than I mean for it to, and I see Ivan’s hands go still in the process of smoothing out the blanket.
“That’s not the problem, and you know it.” His voice is a taut, husky growl, and I feel that warmth blooming through me again at the sound of it.
“Then I’ll sleep on the floor.” I push myself up. “You should get a full night’s rest, Ivan. I sit in the passenger’s side all day. I can nap if I want. You’re the one who shouldn’t be pushing yourself so hard.”
His hands are moving rhythmically over the blanket now, smoothing out the same spot again and again. “Almost sounds like you give a shit about me.”
Irritation, a different kind of heat, mixes with the warmth of my desire. “Sounds like you just get off on being difficult,” I snipe back, and Ivan looks up sharply, his dark gaze catching mine.
“Oh, that’s not what I get off on, Charlotte,” he murmurs, and the rasp of his voice makes my breath catch.
I should drop it. I should not let this man share a bed with me. If he agrees to take the bed, I should sleep on the floor. But there’s something more to this too, something I’d never admit to him—and can barely admit to myself.
I’m lonely. Night after night of him sleeping on the floor, so close and still so far away, day after day spent with him oscillating between arguments and tense silence and the occasional truce, has left me aching for a gentler human connection. It’s left me aching for exactly what he gave me earlier, when he kissed me like he cares for me. Like he’s falling for me. And that kiss made me want more. Not just sex, but closeness. Comfort.
I want him next to me in bed, because it would make me feel less alone. Just for a little while.
I let out a heavy breath. “Just get in the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor if you want. But you need—”
“Fine.” Ivan pushes himself up from the floor, his muscled frame even more threatening in the near-darkness. “I need to sleep, most of all. So I can’t spend the whole night arguing with you.”
I start to get up, but he shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “If I’m sleeping in the bed, then we both are. Don’t worry, I won’t touch you.”
The bed is a queen, so theoretically, there is enough space for us both. But it feels like so much less as I slide back down under the blankets, and feel the dip in the mattress as Ivan slides in next to me.
There’s an arm’s length between us, still. But I can feel his presence next to me, as if he’s touching me. My pulse feels lodged in my throat, the air between us thick with the knowledge that if he reached out, I’d feel him brush against my skin.
Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, I think as I lie there, listening to him breathe, feeling the heat of his body fill the space between us. I don’t think either of us is going to get any sleep like this.
—
Somehow, though, we do. I wake to thin sunlight filtering through the curtains and over the bed, and the warmth of Ivan’s body pressed against mine, his arm over my waist. His chest is rising and falling slowly against my back, his breath ruffling the small hairs on the nape of my neck, and I feel desire jolt through me like lightning when I register the stiff, hard shape of his cock pressed against my spine through his sweatpants.
I go very still, not wanting to move. I don’t want to wake him yet. I want to stay in this moment a little longer, this feeling of being held, this liminal moment where I can pretend that it’s alright that Ivan is holding me. Where I can pretend that I haven’t fully woken up yet, and I’m still unaware that the last man who I should be allowing to touch me is curled around me as if I’m his.
It feels so good. The hard, muscled press of him against me, the warmth of his skin, the masculine scent of him filling my senses. Without meaning to, I squirm back against him a little, and in a flash of movement, Ivan rolls onto me, pinning me onto my back as he nuzzles into my neck.
I freeze, my heart pounding as he breathes in, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin of my throat and making my entire body tighten. His hips are pressed to mine, his cock hard against my belly, and I can feel the pounding of his heart against mine.
I’m not entirely sure that he’s awake. He’s braced on his elbows on either side of me, breathing shallowly, his hips rocking gently as he grinds into me. That throbbing desire that keeps flooding through me at his every touch answers his, and I realize with a flush of heat that crawls up my neck that if I could spread my legs wider for him, I would.
“Charlotte—” My name is a sleepy murmur, breathed into my neck, and I can feel my resistance to him fading. I’m wet, aching for him, and with the last bit of my self-control, I reach up, shoving my hands against his chest in an effort to both wake him up fully and get him off of me.
“Get off,” I snap, and Ivan lifts his head, the sleep vanishing from his expression as he blinks down at me.
He takes in our position, him wedged tightly against me, my legs trapped between his and his cock pressed against me. A slow, amused smirk twitches the corners of his mouth, and I glare up at him as he smiles down at me. “Why?” he asks lazily, and I start to tell him it’s none of his business. But the dark amusement in his expression tells me that he won’t be satisfied with that. That he wants to hear me tell him the truth.
After being so angry at him for all of his lies, I guess it’s the least I can do.
“If you don’t stop touching me—” The words come out whispered, choked and tight. “I’m going to ask you to fuck me again.”
Ivan draws in a sharp breath, his hips rocking into me as if what I just said struck him physically. I feel him throb against me, feel his body grinding against mine for a moment, his eyes dark with the same desperate need that I’ve felt ever since last night. It feels like torment, and there’s an odd satisfaction in knowing he feels the same.
I want to use it against him. To wield it like a weapon, brace it between us like a shield, the way I tried to do when I went down on him. To reduce this thing between us to a base, filthy need. But he won’t let me do that. I know it already, from that last time. And I can feel that what this is could too easily spin out of control.
It’s more than that, and we both know it, even if neither of us will say it out loud.
Ivan swallows hard, his throat moving as he looks down at me, his body suddenly very still against mine. “Would you believe that it was real, if I did?”
The question comes out as a hoarse rasp, but there’s a softness, a sincerity in it that cuts me to the quick. And once again, I can’t give him anything other than the truth, even when he’s lied to me so many times.
Even if it would feel good, for a moment, to punish him by telling him yes, when I know the answer is no. It would hurt me later, after. When he realizes that I’ve lied. That I’ve taken something from him as revenge for what he’s taken from me.
I should want that more than I do. I should do it. But I can’t bring myself to, and that’s how I know this has gone so much further than it should.
My hesitation is all the answer Ivan needs. But he doesn’t move, his gaze hardening. “Answer me,” he says roughly, and his fingers touch my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Would it be real?”
I bite my lip as I shake my head, one quick, brief movement. And just as fast, Ivan pulls away from me, rolling off of the bed. I can see the evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his pants, but he ignores it, striding to where his clothes are tossed over the chair. He grabs them up in his hand, heading to the bathroom, and he slams the door behind him, hard.
I feel tears sting my eyes, watching him go. And I can’t figure out why I’m about to cry over a man, who I never should have gotten feelings for at all.
19
IVAN
Islept better than I can remember having slept in a long time. I wasn’t entirely sure why that was, until I woke up on top of Charlotte, and realized what must have happened.
I spent the night curled around her. The first time I’ve slept next to a woman all night that I can recall—and it meant nothing. Nothing to her, anyway.
That shake of her head when I asked if it would be real felt like that knife slicing through me all over again, so hot and sharp that I half expected to see my blood on her hands. A physical cut might have hurt less.
The tension between us is as thick as ever as we leave. I’m short with her, my frustration making me wound tight, and there’s no solution for it. None that I’m willing to give into, anyway. I got myself off in the shower last night, and again this morning before I dressed after I left her in bed, but it’s like patting an itch you want to scratch. It barely takes the edge off.
All that will satisfy me is her. And I refuse to fuck her again until she’s willing to admit that it’s me she wants. Just like this, just as I am.
Those thoughts dig at me all day, only agitating my already bitter mood. But all of it flies out of my head when we pull into the Starview Motel for the night, the only one in the one-red-light town that we just drove through, and I see two familiar figures leaning against a silver Acura.
I know that car. And I know my brothers, even from the distance we’re at, as I slow down.
I slam the car into park, and Charlotte gasps.
“Shouldn’t we be running?” she whispers, and I shake my head sharply, drawing my gun.
“I’m going to make sure they don’t chase us again,” I growl, that frustrated need that’s been chewing at me all day morphing into a thirst for violence. I want either sex or blood right now, and where one isn’t possible, the other is a decent enough substitute.
“They’re your brothers—”
“Stay here.” The words come out sharp, clipped, and I leave the car running as I open the door and step out onto the pavement, the gun visible next to my side as I stride towards the two of them.
Both Niki and Ani push off the side of the car, taking a step towards me. I narrow my eyes when I see that neither of them appears to have a weapon in their hands.
“Ivan,” Niki calls out first, raising his hands slightly to show that they’re empty. “Talk to us.”
“The only thing I want coming out of your mouth is your own blood,” I snarl, my finger brushing against the trigger of my gun as I stride closer. “I’m done with this bullshit, Niki. I’m done being chased by you two and the fucking FBI.”
Niki blanches slightly. “Why—”
“None of your fucking business.” I raise the gun, aiming it at him. “I said, I’m done with this.”
“Ivan—”
I’m on him in another stride, backing him towards the car. I shove my gun into the hollow of his throat just as I see Ani slip his hand out of his pocket, a switch knife in his fingers. In one swift movement, I reach out with my left hand, grabbing the handle and Ani’s fingers at the same time, and twisting hard enough that I hear them pop.
Ani lets out a high shriek, stumbling back, and I shove the gun harder against Niki’s throat.
“I’ve been running a wild goose chase ever since we left Illinois,” I snarl. “How are you finding us? How did you even catch up to us so fast?” I see Ani moving towards me again, and I hold up a finger, glaring at him sideways. “Keep moving, and I’ll blow his throat open.”
I honestly don’t know if the threat will work. If it was Lev, he’d tell me to go ahead and fucking kill him. But Ani and Niki have always had the common thread of being my father’s bonus children, the ones he ignores until he needs to use them for something, and I have a feeling that’s created a bond between them. It’s what I’m banking on, and as I see Ani hesitate, I know it was the right call.
Ani slowly puts his hands up, backing down. “Fine,” he says shortly. “Lev managed to get the security footage of Charlotte’s apartment building. He saw you leaving with her in the car you were driving before. He sent some guys to follow up on your decoys, and when none of them led him to you, he figured you’d just taken Charlotte out of town and were making a run for it. And he was right, obviously.”
“And he followed us how?” I jolt the barrel against Niki’s throat again, and he coughs.
“It’s hard to disappear now. The whole fucking world is on camera all the time, man.” Ani shakes his head. “Traffic cameras, gas station security—and Lev won’t falter at getting what he wants. He’s fucking violent, and he’ll hurt anyone, threaten anything to get results. You know that.”
I do know that. Lev’s brutality makes him an inefficient torturer, but it yields results in almost every other aspect of the Bratva world. If he needs or wants something, there is no moral code standing in his way. He’ll stop at nothing.
“Well, he’s not with you two idiots now.” I lower the gun slowly, keeping it poised in case either of them gets any ideas. “So where is he? And how did you find us?”
“I’m not a complete idiot,” Niki chokes out, rubbing the base of his throat. “And I’m not fucking telling you where Lev is. It’s not worth my life to do that. But it wasn’t fucking hard to figure out where the two of you would be. Every time we’ve run across you or almost caught up, you’ve been staying at the shittiest motels in existence. There was only one of those in this town, and based on how much time you’ve been making, you were probably gonna stop here. We gambled, and it worked out.” He shrugs.
“Except it didn’t,” I snap. “Because I’m not going to let you two assholes just walk out of here.”
Niki looks at me levelly. “Why not?” He keeps talking before I can answer, his gaze narrowed in on me. “Give us the girl. You’ve got to be bored with her by now, anyway. We’ll take her straight back to Dima, as we’re supposed to. Lev wants to get his hands on her first, but we’ll make sure he doesn’t. We’ll say we’re following otets orders, and get her right back to Chicago. And then it won’t be the worst thing. You know what kind of clients otets sells to. And she’s gorgeous. She’ll end up some billionaire’s toy or in a prince’s harem. She’ll live a life of luxury, and you get to go on your way, writing yourself a new future. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Niki narrows his eyes. “To get out? To leave? Do that, while we’re all distracted getting the girl back to otets. Get the fuck out.”
“Dima will be angry with you for not bringing me back, too. So will Lev.”
“We’ll deal with that. The girl is what he really wants. He’ll believe she’ll lure you back. And when she doesn’t, he’ll sell her and try to find you some other way. But by then, you’ll be long gone.”
Not all that long ago, with anyone else, I would have been tempted to take the deal, even as abhorrent as I find my father’s flesh peddling to be. My efforts to stop my father’s trafficking are an attempt at some small measure of redemption, after all, and redemption never comes without temptation. But in the end, I know I’d still say no. I haven’t come this far and put myself in this much danger to let my father get away with it in the end.
