Chapter 22

I'm kneeling next to the toilet, almost doing it, nearly putting my finger in the place that will make it happen. Yet every time I move to cross that line, it's like I see Aiden staring at me, that mixture of support and fierceness and feral need in his eyes. I hear his words about athletes and calories, hear the support in his words, and feel his warm touch against me.

Then there's a knock at the door. "Yes?" I call, standing up.

"It's me."

For a second, I think I'm hallucinating. It sounds like Dimitri. I go to the door, open it, then throw myself at my big brother. He catches me in a hug. Seeing him here, in what should be my prison—though it doesn't feel that way—is surreal. He hugs me tightly.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Things have changed," he replies. "We haven't got time for in-fighting. We need to work together now."

"But you, here … Is it going to work? Aren't you and Aiden going to?—"

"You like him, don't you, Ania?" Dimitri says.

I turn away so he can't see my expression. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do," he replies insistently. "Something's going on between you two."

"This is the part where you tell me I'm too young and immature to make a decision even though Lia and Mila are young, too? Is that it?"

Dimitri swallows. "No, I get it. You're not a kid anymore. It's just … I worry about you. You've always been so sensitive."

"Crazy, you mean."

"I never said that." He pauses. "We met with the man who set the car bomb. Aiden went nuts on him when he tried to threaten you. If I needed proof that Aiden wants the best for you, I've got it. He would've died in that food court for you."

More of those warm tingles dance over me, but I do my best not to let them rule me. My body is still buzzing from last night as if it's replaying over and over, his touch against my core, his lips on mine, the look of feral determination on his face when I said I couldn't go all the way.

"So you're staying here?"

Dimitri nods. "It's the safest place in the city."

"How are Lia and Mila doing?"

"They're enjoying their time in one of our Mexican safe houses. Nobody can touch them there. It's a VIP resort, the penthouse suite, with twenty of our men on staff at all times and a helicopter waiting to whisk them away on the zero-point-one percent chance somebody tries anything. But nobody will. Even the Cartel avoids those resorts."

"Good," I say, letting out a sigh of relief. "And Drake? I still owe him some lessons."

"Everybody is safe. That's why I'm here. We talked during the drive over. I think you should join them."

"No," I say flatly, without even thinking about it.

"Ania …"

"No," I say again, with more certainty this time. "I belong here with my brothers, my mom, and …" I swallow, then say it, the thing I've been trying to avoid since this started. "… and Aiden."

Dimitri sighs. "You're smitten, aren't you?"

"I don't know what I am, but it's not smitten."

After a pause, he says, "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Where is everybody?" I ask.

"Mikhail has set himself up in one of the studies. Molly is with Henry. I think Aiden went to the gym."

"What are you going to do?"

"Work on establishing a surveillance network with Theodore."

"Crazy to think yesterday the lodge burned down. Now we're on the same team."

"I saw what I saw," Dimitri says fiercely. "A man who would do anything to protect my baby sister. I can't keep hating the bastard after that."

"Maybe I'll get a quick workout in, too," I murmur, thinking of seeing Aiden—my protector.

"Do you mind if I use this area?" I ask Aiden as he hammers the heavy bag with powerful strikes.

He glances over at me, sweat glistening down his body, over his bare arms and chest. His hair glistens, his eyes looking just as savage and focused as last night.

"Be my guest," he says, looking me up and down.

Okay, so maybe I chose this outfit kind of on purpose. I saw how he looked at me last night when I wore shorts and a tank top. Now, I'm wearing the same, but on the sporty side.

I go to the matted area and begin stretching, noticing how he glances over between punches. Before Aiden, I never really let myself think about what it would be like for a man to look at me like that. I couldn't imagine there being a man who I'd want to look at me like that.

His sleeveless workout shirt sticks to his torso, outlining the shape of his muscles. "Tss-tss-tss," he blows out air with each punch, the punching bag trembling like it's about to fall off the bracket.

"Thanks for letting Dimitri and Mikhail stay here."

"It's the safest place for them," Aiden replies.

"I'm just shocked you care if they're safe."

"They're your brothers, and …" He lets his gloved hands drop, staring at me as I bend down and touch my toes, then work my hands to the backs of my legs to get an even deeper stretch. "They want the best for you. That's all any of us want."

"I want the best for you, too," I murmur, wondering if I'm being too subtle.

I want to say, Last night, I wish we'd taken it further, but there's no way I'd be able to force those words out. I'd feel like the biggest dork ever.

"By being safe, you're giving me that," he says.

"Dimitri told me what you did."

After a pause, Aiden says, "That prick had no right to threaten you. Nobody does. He's lucky he didn't get worse. I almost hope he doesn't agree to your brothers' terms."

"Why?"

Aiden walks across the gym, making me conscious that the door is closed. It's just us in here. Nobody can see. The apartment is so big that nobody can probably hear, either.

"Because then I get to really make him pay," Aiden growls, "for daring to even think about hurting you. Nobody, Ania, nobody gets to do that. I won't fucking stand for it."

I almost say something like, That's what stepbrothers are for, but then I quickly get rid of the idea of saying that. He really means it; I can tell. If I said that, I'd ruin the moment. Somehow, that seems like such a horrible thing to do. Somehow, I want to make every moment with us special.

This time, when I lean in, I don't let myself hesitate. I don't give myself time to doubt or second guess. I don't wonder if I'll make a fool of myself or if he thinks I will look silly. I just lean in and press my lips against his.

He makes the hottest groaning noise, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up. I press against him, and it's like all the sleepwalking lust spills out. It's like the version of me only he's seen takes control. I wrap my legs around him, and he carries me across the room, putting me down on a weightlifting bench.

He pushes down against me, letting me feel his heat and his sweat, our bodies both getting so hot. Kneeling next to the bench, he slides his hand up my leg. Nerves try to strangle and ruin the moment.

"I want you, too," I murmur. "I want to make you feel good."

"This makes me feel good," he groans, his touch tickling across my legs, teasing closer and closer to my sex. Last night, the pleasure took me by surprise. I haven't told him this, but that was my first orgasm ever. Yet now, it's even more intense with all the anticipation added to it.

I slide off the bench, joining him on the padded floor. He catches me and lets me lie on top of him. I end up straddling him, my legs on either side of his body, letting me feel his lust pushing through his pants and right against me. His manhood is so hard, and he feels big. He feels so big that I'm honestly not even sure if I'll …

But why think like that? Why have a defeated attitude before we even start?

"Is this okay?" I murmur, rocking up and down on top of him, my hands on his chest, our clothes separating us. I can feel the passion even through them.

"Hmm," he groans, taking my hips in his hands, moving in time with me.

"Is it enough for you?"

"Everything with you is enough," he snarls. "This has to be at your pace, Ania, or I'll never be able to live with myself. I'm taking advantage as it is."

"Maybe I'm the one taking advantage," I say, guiding his hands to my shirt, then under my shirt. Goosebumps try to prick me, like a nervous signal telling me to stop, but I refuse to listen.

"Oh, fuck," he says fiercely as he tickles over my belly and up to my breasts. "Your nipples feel so damn horny."

I laugh, but it comes out more like a moan. "Nipples can be horny?"

"You tell me."

He moves his fingers over my nipples, making me feel … I don't even know. It's different from last night when he was rubbing me. This is new and wildly interesting. It's like there are two points of pleasure in my chest expanding, teasing, and warmth blossoming through my body.

Our bodies move together, his manhood grinding against me over and over, his hips driving up as though he wishes there was nothing between us—just our bodies, the wetness, and the heat.

"I need to suck your perfect nipples," he growls, sitting up but still with our bodies pressed close. This brings us ever nearer to each other. "Lift your arms up."

I do as he says, constantly fighting the small voice telling me I'm going to look silly, going to make a fool of myself. When I see his eyes open wide, his mouth shaping into an "o" of awe, it all fades away. He leans forward and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking and groaning as he smooths his hand over my back.

His tongue swirls around my nipple, pleasure teasing and tickling all over me. I shift against him, gripping his big, muscular shoulders. Our hips are still moving, like we're having sex, but with clothes on, his manhood grinding against the thin material of my shorts and making my core tingle like crazy.

"Oh, Aiden," I whisper. "I think if you keep …"

"I can feel it," he growls, his breath warm over my bare chest. "I can feel how close you are. The orgasm. Oh, fuck. You were made for me."

"What?" I gasp.

He doesn't reply. He keeps making those pleasure-filled noises as he rubs against me. Did I imagine that? I swear he said I was made for him. I don't even know what that means, except it makes me feel good, and it feels so, so true.

He doesn't say it again, but then, I wouldn't be able to hear him if he did. That all-consuming feeling slams into me like last night, except this one is even more intense. It's how eager his tongue is, swirling around my nipple, sucking, and the noises he makes. He wants me so, so badly. It feels so good to be this desired, especially by him.

My kidnapper. My stepbrother. My man.

You were made for me.

He kisses me before I can scream the apartment down with my orgasm, catching the pleasure. I moan through the kiss, struggling not to yell, as my underwear gets super wet and sticky and filled with lust. When I stop shaking, he leans back, ending the kiss, his cock still rock-hard against me.

"I want your tight virgin pussy so badly," he moans. "I need it. I need to fill you with my dick. I need to own you. I need …"

Suddenly, he leaps up, jumping to the door, leaving me shirtless and confused on the floor. Then I realize why. Somebody's coming in!

"Hello?" a woman's voice says. "Is it okay to clean?"

"Sorry, Janine," Aiden replies. "I'm just finishing up a workout. I won't be long."

"Oh, sorry, sorry."

"No, you have nothing to apologize for." Even when stressed, he treats his staff with respect. That says a lot about him. "We … I won't be long."

"Okay, yes."

He turns to me, his hand curled into a tight fist.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I hate the idea of anybody seeing you like this," he says. "You're just for me, Ania. Always. I'll make sure nobody disturbs you while you get dressed."

That's the reason he gives for slipping out of the door, but something tells me it has more to do with what he said—the line he crossed. I'm just for him. I was made for him. As I pull my shirt back on, I wish he'd stayed in here just a little longer. Maybe I would've found the courage to tell him I was starting to feel the same.