“I never told them,” she whispers. “Is that what you think? Is that what you thought all these years? Your legs, did they do that to you?”
“Yes, on all three fucking counts. They took me and him the day you left; pretty good timing for a girl who didn’t know, huh? They took us to that garage, and they tortured us. They lit a fire on the floor, and they put a long metal poker in it, and they burned my thighs. They burned my uncle’s chest and back. They took the money and told my uncle he was dead. So he blamed me. You cost me everything. My uncle, the only fucking family worth anything I had, disowned me. I had to leave St. Petersburg, start fresh. You did all that because what?” I sneer at her. “You were jealous.”
She hits me so swift and hard I don’t see it coming.
“Fuck you. You broke my heart, but I never said a word. Not one word.”
I falter. She seems so sure in her conviction. She’s a consummate liar, though, isn’t she?
“You’re a little liar, Dasha.” I click my tongue. “Lying to me. Lying to your husband. Lying to yourself.”
“I’m not lying to you. I never could lie to you,” she says sadly. “I am not lying about this, Bohdan. I don’t care if you walk out of this room and I never see you again, but you must believe me on this. I can’t bear to think of you somewhere in the world believing this of me.”
She comes to me and drops to her knees, undoing the buckle on my belt. What the fuck?
I move back, but she shuffles after me and pulls my trousers down.
“Dasha, get off me.”
“Let me see,” she says simply.
She saw the scars on my back years ago. I showed them to her. No one but her. Now she’s seeing these scars. Yet again, I’m letting her be the only one to really see me.
Her gaze lifts to me, and there are tears on her cheeks. “Bohdan, I swear on my life. I. Never. Told.”
Then she leans in and kisses the scars. I freeze. I don’t even breathe. I’m not sure if my heart is still pumping.
“I never would have done that to you. Not you. You were my … everything.”
“And you were mine,” I say.
She shakes her head. “No. I wasn’t.” Her voice is so sad.
I’m torn up inside. Confused and directionless. She swears she didn’t do it, but there’s no other explanation.
My uncle had been skimming money from the Bratva and making me hide it in the walls of the dank garage I’d been going to for years. No one knew except Dasha, and I only told her because I was so terrified of what he was making me do.
Why is she on her knees?
Why am I not exultant?
This is what I wanted, isn’t it? To have her on her knees, begging me. I’ve got it, but it doesn’t feel good.
“Get up,” I say gutturally.
She doesn’t move, but presses her face to my thigh, her arms coming around me. “You broke me, Bohdan, but I swear I didn’t break you in return.”
Fuck.
“Dasha, get up.” I reach down and put my hands under her arms, hauling her to her feet.
She stares at me, and there’s some color in her cheeks now. Her lips are parted, and God help me, but her eyes are even prettier shining with tears.
I don’t think. I’m not capable of it. Instead, I simply react as I reach for her, pulling her to me and crushing her mouth with mine.
She opens for me immediately with a moan, and it goes straight to my cock.
I spin us around and walk her back to the dresser until she’s up against it, and I press into her, feeling her small body tight against mine.
She kisses me like she’s drowning, and I’m her air. I’ve never had a woman so desperate for me. But then this is us, isn’t it? I’m the same way for her.
My hands roam her body, touching, learning. I skim the delicate bones of her shoulders and sweep one hand down the graceful arch of her back.
She reaches for me, pulling me into her, and wrapping her legs around me as I hoist her onto the dresser. There’s a part of my mind screaming at me to stop, but I don’t think I can. This is too heady. Too much. She’s so new, but like coming home too.
Her hands flutter at the front of my shirt, and she starts to fiddle with the buttons, but then with surprising strength she simply rips it open. Buttons fly, and she presses her hot mouth to the skin of my chest. She kisses me everywhere, and I’m not even able to get with the program because this is all so not what I expected when we came here today.
She pulls her leggings down, along with her panties, and then she looks at me, waiting. I stare at her then spin her around, bending her over the dresser, her ass in the air, and pussy exposed to my hungry gaze. I don’t ask her if she wants it gentle and slow, or hard and fast the way I did the air stewardess on K’s plane.
Dasha doesn’t get to choose.
I pull my cock out, so aching and hard, and line it up with her wet entrance. I test her with my fingers to make sure she’s wet enough, and she’s soaked.
I sink into her with a groan, and she cries out, her arms spread out and her hands gripping the dresser.
I fuck her hard and fast. Years of hurt, anger, aching, and longing pour into it, and I’m nothing more than a being on another plane of existence right now.
She’s right there with me too, grinding back against me, telling me more and harder. I reach around and find her clit and play with it, wanting her to come for me.
When she does, it’s with a cry loud enough to be heard outside, but it still doesn’t stop me. I speed up, taking what I need, what I’ve wanted all these years.
All those women, they were all substitutes for this. I come with a groan and bury my face in her neck as I fill her up.
Then it hits me.
I didn’t glove up.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t use a condom.
I pull out of Dasha, and she’s shaking as she pulls her panties up.
What the fuck have we done?
What have I done?
She starts to dress herself and looks at me. Her gaze is cold. Those blue eyes of hers hard like stone.
“Get out,” she says.
“What? No. We need to talk.”
“Get out.”
“I don’t have a shirt,” I say stupidly.
She grabs a sweater off the clothes rack and throws it at me. “It’s Jasper’s; put it on and get out.”
I do as she says, shocked at this turn of events. Shocked at the whole thing. I pull the too-small sweater over my head and fasten my pants before leaving her, still shaking.
I always knew we’d be dynamite when we finally got together. I was wrong.
That was a fucking nuclear explosion.
Chapter Fourteen
Dasha
The minute he shuts the door behind him, I run to the small bathroom in the corner, lift the toilet lid and throw up.
What have I done? What have I done?
Oh my god. What if Jasper finds out? He’ll hurt me. He’ll ruin me. He’ll go after my mother.
Bohdan isn’t here to protect me. He’s here to get his revenge on me. He’s right too, I’m the only person he ever told. He always said I had to keep it a secret or his life would be on the line, but I never told a soul.
I retch and retch and when there’s nothing left, I sink back onto my haunches, wiping my mouth.