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Alex Volkov was a force of nature unto himself, and I imagined even the weather bowed to him.
“It might help with your condition.” “What condition?” Alex sounded bored. “Stickuptheassitis.” I’d already called the man an asshole, so what was one more insult? I might’ve imagined it, but I thought I saw his mouth twitch before he responded with a bland, “No. The condition is chronic.”
How ironic the two of us were sitting here: me, the girl who remembered almost nothing, and Alex, the man who remembered everything.
Jules Ambrose was one of the most dangerous women I’d ever met, and anyone who thought otherwise because of the way she looked and flirted was an idiot.
“You’re hot, but you can be a real overbearing asshole.”
“When have you known her not to reply within minutes of receiving a text or a call?” “Uh, when she’s in the bathroom. Class. Work. Sleeping. Showering. A photo—” “It’s been almost an hour,” I snapped. Jules shrugged. “Maybe she’s having sex.” A muscle jumped in my jaw. I wasn’t sure which version of Jules was worse—the one who always tried to convince me to mow the lawn shirtless, or the one who relished baiting me.
Ava narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t give it back, I swear to God I’ll walk out into the street wearing this outfit.” Another bolt of fury sizzled through me. “You wouldn’t.” “Try me.”
“Guys, you’re missing the point.” Jules waved a hand in the air. “The point is, Alex did show emotion. Over Ava. We could have fun with this.”
“Off the top of my head? We’ve already seen him angry, so happiness, sadness, fear, disgust…” A wicked smile slashed across Jules’s face. “Jealousy.”
“I don’t,” I said firmly. “And I’m not going along with this crazy idea.” Forty-five minutes later, we decided Phase One of Operation Emotion would commence in three days.
Jules was the most persuasive person I’d ever met. A good quality for an aspiring lawyer, but not so much for an innocent friend, i.e. me, who wanted to stay out of trouble.
“For the most part.” I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t do that again.” “Don’t parade in front of other men half-naked, and I won’t have to.” “I was not parading—” His words clicked into place. “Other men?”
I still owned DVDs the way I still owned paperback books. There was just something so magical about holding your favorite items rather than seeing them onscreen.
“I’m not a toy, Ava,” Alex said, his voice lethally soft. “Don’t play with me unless you want to get hurt.”
“Don’t try to humanize me. I’m not a tortured hero from one of your romantic fantasies. You have no idea what I’m capable of, and just because I promised Josh I’d look after you doesn’t mean I can protect you from yourself and your bleeding heart.”
Holy crap. Perhaps I should be grateful he never smiled, because if that was what he looked like while doing it…womankind didn’t stand a chance.
I was so focused on not looking at him I barely paid attention to the movie, but an hour later, when my eyes drooped and sleep beckoned, I was still thinking about his smile.
He flicked his gaze down. I followed it…and realized, to my abject horror, that I was touching Alex Volkov’s dick. Unintentionally, and he had on sweats, but still. I. Was. Touching. Alex. Volkov’s. Dick. And it was hard.
“Please remove your hand from my cock unless you plan on doing something with it,” Alex said coolly.
“You’re not my type.” Alex’s eyes narrowed. “No? Then who, pray tell, is your type?” It was too early for this. “Um…” I scrambled to think of a safe answer. “Ian Somerhalder?”
Ava has good taste
“Yes, Your Highness.” He grimaced when the parrot squawked, “Ooh, yes! Spank me, master!” “I am not your master,” he told the bird. “Go away.”
Jules suggested a blowjob, which fell under sex and which I vetoed.
OPERATION EMOTION: PHASE FEAR We were stuck. Between my friends and I, none of us could think of a single thing that would inspire fear in Alex—at least, none that weren’t illegal or fucked up. Jules, who was more comfortable with “fucked up” than the rest of us, joked about pretending to rob him at knifepoint—at least, I hoped she was joking—until Stella pointed out Alex would likely turn the situation around and kill me before he figured out it was a prank.
The suspicion returned to Josh’s eyes. “Is this your idea, or a certain redhead’s?”
Thayer University’s annual alumni charity gala was the event of the season, but while it did raise money for the latest cause du jour, it wasn’t really about charity. It was about ego. I attended every year.
“Love.” The word floated between us on a soft gust of air. “Deep, abiding, unconditional love. You want it so much you’re willing to live for it.” Most people thought the biggest sacrifice they could make was to die for something. They were wrong. The biggest sacrifice someone could make was to live for something—to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you didn’t recognize. Death was oblivion; life was reality, the harshest truth that had ever existed. “You want it so much you’d say yes to anything. Believe in anyone. One more favor, one more kind gesture…and maybe,
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Though let’s be honest, it was already too late. She was mine. She just didn’t know it yet.
I continued my blows, letting the fire wash over me until Liam was unconscious and Ava had to drag me off him. “Alex, stop. You’ll kill him!” I adjusted my shirtsleeves, breathing hard. “Is that supposed to deter me?”
“I will destroy him.” Alex’s words sliced through the air like lethal blades of ice. Goosebumps blossomed on my skin and I shivered, my teeth chattering from the cold. “Everything he has ever touched, everyone he has ever loved. I will ruin them until they’re nothing more than a pile of ashes at your feet.”
“If you let lesser people determine your self-worth, you’ll never reach higher than their limited imagination.”
My heart rattled in my chest. “I thought you didn’t believe in love.” “Personally? No. But love is like money. Its worth is determined by those who believe in it. And you obviously do.”
I’ve found that the quietest, most reserved people often make the best portrait subjects because the exercise doesn’t require them to speak; it requires them to feel. Those who bottle up their emotions every day feel the strongest and love the hardest; the best photographers are the ones who can capture each drop of emotion as it spills out and mold it into something visceral, relatable. Universal.
Everyone fears something; it’s what makes us human. And Alex Volkov—for all his control, all his power—was still wonderfully, frighteningly, heartbreakingly human.
“Alex doesn’t do either of those things. It’s well known amongst a certain segment of D.C.’s female population. No kissing, no face-to-face contact during sex.” She lowered her head so she could whisper in my ear. “But he will take you from behind. Choke and fuck you till you see stars. Call you the filthiest names and treat you like a slut.”
“Maybe,” I said, matching the blonde’s honey-laced poison. “He just doesn’t like looking at you during sex. Because he’s never had that problem with me.”
“Is she really worth it?” Madeline called after me. I didn’t bother answering her. Yes.
“There’s a first time for everything. C’mon.” I pulled at his wrist. “You’re twenty-seven! That means you have to take twenty-seven shots.” His frown deepened. “Absolutely not.” “It was worth a try.” I grinned. “Just wanted to see if you were dumb enough to do it.” “Ava, I’m a genius.” “A humble one too.” Alex cracked a smile. Not a big one, but we were getting there.
“You miss me,” she said. My hands curled around the edge of the counter. “I do not.” “You showed up at my work and bought me a new phone because I didn’t text you for a few days.” Ava’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “I think that amounts to missing me.”
Ava leaned in and hissed, “Alex, the piece costs $40,000.” “Really? Shit.” “I’m sure we can—” “I thought it was expensive.”
“Yes, I do.” I pressed a hand against his abdomen, feeling it tremble beneath my touch. “Unless you don’t want to.” He left out a half-laugh, half-groan. “Does this feel like I don’t want to?” He grasped my hand and pulled it down until it rested on the most masculine part of him. My breath stuttered at his sheer heat and size—obvious even under his swim trunks—and I curled my fingers around the thick rod, fascinated by the power I held in my palm.
Every inch of you belongs to me, and if you ever let another man touch you—” My other hand closed around her throat. “He’ll end up in pieces, and you’ll end up tied to my bed and fucked in every hole until my name is the only one you remember. Do you understand?”
“No kissing or face-to-face contact during sex,” she murmured. “I thought those were your rules.”
“You’re right, sweetheart,” I said, dropping my forehead to hers with a resigned sigh. So. Fucked. “But the rules don’t apply to you.”
I would never tire of Alex’s smiles. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s over, I told my poor heart. You don’t belong to me anymore.
The unwelcome ring of an incoming call interrupted our obscene symphony of moans and grunts, followed by a cool voice. “This is Alex.” My eyes flew open. I gaped at Alex, who stared down at me with a calm expression as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. Gone was passionate, playful Alex; in its place was the composed businessman Alex. “No, I’m free to talk. What happened with the Wilbur development?” Free to talk? He was still inside me!
Bridget drew herself up to her full five feet, nine inches and leveled an icy glare at the dark-haired man glowering right back at her. Ballsy, considering she was the princess and he was the bodyguard, but Rhys Larsen wasn’t Booth. That much was clear in the week since he’d arrived in Hazelburg to take over Booth’s protection duties.
Rhys’s gray eyes flickered. He was a little younger than Booth—maybe early thirties, with thick black hair, eyes the color of gunmetal, and a broad, muscled frame that towered over Bridget’s leggy grace, even when she wore heels. Dark stubble shadowed his chin, and a small, jagged scar slashed across his left eyebrow. Without the scar, he would’ve been disconcertingly gorgeous; with it, he was still disconcertingly gorgeous, but also dangerous. More menacing.
“No,” he said when I reached to clean myself. He pulled my shredded panties out of my mouth and pocketed them, his movements crisp and precise. “I want you to walk around with my cum on you so you know exactly who you belong to.”
I grasped her chin and angled her face toward mine. “Tell me who or what I need to kill,” I growled. “What happened at your father’s house?” “I told you, nothing. It was just the lake.” Ava eked out a wobbly smile. “You can’t kill a lake.” “I’ll drain every fucking lake and ocean in the world if I have to.”
“I’d do anything for you. No matter how twisted or impossible.”
