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“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Inessa,” he rasped, his hand sliding over my arm, making gooseflesh surge and fall in a wave. “I’m weird,” I whimpered, needing him to tell me I wasn’t. “If you’re weird, then I am too.” Well, that wasn’t reassuring.
I stiffened, then when he laughed, I moved my face from his throat and glowered at him. “There’s my woman,” he rasped, and somehow, that word got to me like nothing else could.
Not his wife. His woman. There was a massive difference, a...
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He wanted me. Not that slut I’d seen on our wedding day. Not a random whore. He wanted me.
“I do have some work to do,” he murmured, “and you? You’re going to hump the desk while Manhattan watches.” My cheeks flushed with heat, and I knew this was both a punishment and a gift for what I’d told him about Maxim. This was about him replacing Maxim in that memory, and it was about giving me what I needed.
“I never did it naked,” I whispered, head ducked. “No, but you will for me. That’s why your panties are on,” he said matter-of-factly, as he tapped my thigh and directed, “Go on, get.”
All the people had to do was look up, and they’d see me spread, my pussy on display, my man finger fucking me.
“What if she doesn’t like me?” His lips twitched until he saw my genuine concern. “Then I’ll shoot her.” I huffed. “Then Eoghan will shoot you. My goal is to keep you alive, not get you killed.”
“What?” I snarled down the line. Inessa’s legs were spread wide, her pussy was on display, and my dick had just been inside her. Until the fucking phone rang.
Most people might be able to ignore a phone call, but in my line of work, and with the situation brewing between the Italians and Bratva, ignoring my cell wasn’t something I could do right now. God. Damn. It.
Like any well-bred woman in the life, she knew that business took precedence, and that calls that interrupted fucking, that a man willingly let interrupt said fucking, were serious shit.
Fuck, she was perfect, and because she was, that made me resent this goddamn phone call all the more.
As she dragged the sheet over her body to cover up, I played tug of war with her, barely stopping myself from laughing when she glowered at me and wafted her hands as if...
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“Since when were we swayed by big bucks?” “Shit, man, Inessa really has fried your cock off. The Rebels produce ghost guns. Top whack shit. They’re not affiliated.” “Until now?” I predicted. “Exactly,” Dec said, satisfaction in his words. “For how long?” “Ten years.” “That’s how much Eagle Eyes means to them?” I questioned. “Apparently.”
“This is sanctioned by Da, isn’t it?” “Like the original hit was, you mean?” he snarked. “Fuck you. You and I both know you told Da before I shot Vasov.” He laughed. “Been saving your ass for a long time, bud. Anyway, Da thought it was amusing—” “Thought he would, to be honest.”
“Yeah, well, he likes the sound of us having our own personal weapons. He’s already coming up with ideas for unique builds.” “Just what we need—weapons built to Da’s specs.” Declan fell silent. “Fuck. I never thought about that.”
“Hey, what’s this?” I rasped, not liking her crying. Her arm slipped over my waist, and she hugged me tight. “I don’t want you to go to hell.” Because she couldn’t see me, my lips curved. “I might not. I take out a lot of bad people. Maybe that gives me some cosmic balance,” I reassured her. “I don’t think God works that way,” she muttered.
