11. Brie

CHAPTER 11

Brie

I’m so tempted to try one last time with Nik, but I decide to be good instead—and I really, really need this shower, the steam curling invitingly around my body as I open the screen door. I step into it and hope the hot water will sluice away the tension of the last forty-eight hours.

It helps some; feels like washing off a mask, all of those other selves swirling down the drain until I’m just…me. The me that exists in moments like this, when no one’s watching. The me that still sometimes wakes up surprised to find myself so far from West Virginia.

Except Nik is watching. Always watching. She’s not in here with me, but I know she’s thinking about me, and that idea sends heat through me that has nothing to do with the water’s temperature. Her gaze feels different from all the others I’ve endured over the years—leering men, ruthless mobsters, envious stares.

Nik looks at me like she sees the real me underneath all the layers. And that’s something I’ve never had before.

When I emerge, wrapped loosely in a fluffy white towel, Nik is just finishing her check for bugs and cameras, making sure of the last few nooks and crannies, and I allow myself to admire the play of muscles beneath her t-shirt. The bruises on her arms worry me, but they also remind me of everything she’s willing to sacrifice to keep me safe.

And she’s still determined to stay professional, it seems, determined to ignore me while she rechecks a lamp she already looked over when we first came in. So I stroll over to my makeup station where the three-winged mirror awaits, surrounded by warm bulbs that cast a gentle glow. This is where the magic happens, where I perfect the facade I show the world.

But tonight, I want to be seen. Really seen.

With deliberate casualness, I let the towel slip, watching it pool at my feet. The cooler air out here raises goosebumps across my skin as I lean forward, pretending to study my reflection critically.

“God, I look tired,” I murmur, though exhaustion is the last thing on my mind as I catch Nik’s reflection in the mirror. She’s frozen in place, her eyes burning across my naked skin.

And the intensity of her gaze makes me feel powerful in a way that has nothing to do with controlling the casino or the Family.

I trace a finger along my collarbone, feigning contemplation. “What do you think, Nik? Do I look as exhausted as I feel?” The words are an invitation.

A challenge.

One second she’s across the room and the next she’s right behind me, watching me in the mirror, her fingers brushing my damp hair from my shoulder, feather-light but electric. Even this gentle touch carries an edge of possession that makes my knees weak.

“You look incredible,” she tells me. “Like always.” The honesty in her voice makes me swallow. There’s never any flattery with her, no agenda.

Just truth, stripped as bare as I am right now.

Her touch grows bolder, tracing patterns across my back and down to the swell of my hip. I meet her eyes in the mirror, seeing my own desire reflected back. Her other hand slides around my waist, steadying me, protecting me even now. Always the guardian, even in our most intimate moments.

“Nik,” I breathe, standing up so I can lean back into her solid strength. Her lips find my neck, and I watch in the mirror as she kisses me there, claims me. The contrast of her fully-clothed form against my nakedness sends fresh heat coursing through me.

There’s power in this, too. In surrendering so completely to someone I trust.

I can’t look away from our reflection—the way she watches me with such intensity, such devotion, as she touches me. Her fingertips ghost across my breast, and I arch into her touch, shameless in my need. In the mirror, I barely recognize myself. Gone is any trace of the calculated seductress. This woman, flushed and wanting in Nik’s arms, is real in a way I haven’t been in years.

“Let me take care of you,” she murmurs against my skin, and in those words I hear everything she means but doesn’t say.

“Yes,” I whisper, and it’s permission for all of it. For everything we’ve been dancing around since that first meeting with Eva, every charged moment, every lingering touch.

She pulls me firmly against her, one hand on my belly and the other on my chest. Her hand drifts lower, caressing the neat thatch of hair, and then lower…

When her fingers trace the seam of my pussy, I can’t suppress a moan. But she’s felt how soaked I am already, and she’s not going to make me wait this time, sliding a finger into me, then another. The stretch is nothing but pleasure. She twists her fingers slowly, and I rock with her, grinding into her hand, seeking more.

Those clever fingers curl inside me and the heel of her hand presses against my clit, so intense that my knees nearly buckle, but the arm she has still wrapped around my middle keeps me upright. I can feel the tension coiling within me, the pressure building, and my breath comes in short gasps.

“That’s it,” Nik breathes. “Just like that. Show me how much you need this.”

I lean back, threading my arms around her neck so that my tits push out, nipples hard, and she watches, enraptured, as I chase my own pleasure, our bodies working together. And her eyes, the way she’s looking at me, the raw intensity of her gaze, is almost as exciting as her hand.

I grab at the hand around my waist and direct it up, moaning encouragement as she takes the hint and cups one breast, teasing and twisting my nipple. Her motions become harder, more urgent, and I meet her, matching her pace, riding her hand so that her fingers sink deeper inside me as we both watch in the mirror.

I can’t help performing for her, rolling and arching my back, showing off every inch of me. And sure, it might be a performance, but it’s still real, still me . Because it’s intoxicating to be watched like this, by a woman who knows me so well. Who can read every subtle motion of my body, who knows when to speed up and when to slow down, who can anticipate the exact moment when I’m ready to break.

“You’re amazing,” she says, her breath coming as hard as mine. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous, Brie, and you’re all mine .” There’s wonder in her voice, and admiration.

And something stronger, too. Something…softer. Softness from Nik Kusek, despite all that strength, despite her armor and her scars and her gun.

She’s never looked more beautiful to me, and the sight of her reflected back in the mirror—with her hand on my breast and her fingers inside me and her mouth at my throat—brings sudden tears to my eyes, stinging and strange. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping she hasn’t noticed, and focus on her touch, the pleasure building in my core. She’s drawing it out of me, taking all that tension and need and fear and turning it into something else entirely.

Turning me into someone new.

I can’t help a whimper, and her hand slides to my hip, steadying me.

“I’ve got you,” she promises. “I’m right here, Brie.”

“Make me come,” I gasp, opening my eyes and meeting her gaze again. “Please, Nik.” The look she gives me then is almost too intense, too bright, but it’s what I want.

It’s what I need.

“Watch,” she says, and her hand leaves my breast and finds my face, turning it to the mirror as she kisses the side of my neck, her eyes on my body as she works me, her fingers sliding around in my wet, sensitive folds, teasing my clit and then filling me up again, pumping harder and faster. I feel completely shameless as I stare at our reflections, my tits bouncing, my pussy clenching around her hand. I see just how hard my own clit is when she spreads my pussy open and whispers at me to look , and the sight is so raw and dirty and intimate, so fucking sexy…

And even better, so fucking secure . Because with her body pressed against mine, her eyes intent on the display before us both, I feel completely surrounded and safe. Nik’s hands are the only ones that work both to keep me protected and bring me this much pleasure, this much satisfaction.

She can make all the pain and fear and danger go away, for just a little while.

“Look how perfect you are,” she murmurs. “I’m going to love watching you come. But first…” Her fingers curl, finding the sweet spot, and I cry out, grabbing her wrist, holding her hand steady.

“Right there,” I gasp, “don’t stop, please, Nik…”

“Not planning to,” she says. “But God, I love seeing you like this. All worked up and desperate to cream for me.”

“Nik,” I whimper, feeling my thighs tremble, and I don’t know if it’s from the exertion or the emotions or the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Do you know what seeing you like this does to me?” she asks, breath hot against my neck. “It makes me want to fuck you until you forget every name but mine.”

“Yes,” I agree, the word barely audible over the sound of her fingers sliding in and out of my cunt, the sounds of it filling the air now as I get closer and closer. “God, yes, please, Nik…”

“That’s it,” she says. “Say it again. Keep saying it.”

“ Nik —oh—” I try once more, but the words are gone, and all that comes out of me is a long, drawn-out cry, punctuated with each thrust of her hand. It builds and builds, my whole body tense, on the verge, and I can feel Nik’s body against mine, the press of her breasts and her mouth at my ear, her hands and fingers and lips and the steady rhythm of her movements, all working together until…

“Come for me, Brie,” she orders, and I shatter, coming with a choking gasp. I clench around her hand, and her arm wraps around me again, holding me tight as she draws out the climax, her fingers working until my knees really do buckle and she eases me onto the vanity seat, cradling me in her lap, my legs wide and splayed over hers as she strokes gently at my damp inner thighs.

“Fuck,” I say weakly, leaning my head against her chest, and she laughs. “Give me a minute, and I’ll return the favor.”

“Nah. I’m all filthy.”

I tip my face back and smirk. “Hell, yeah, you are.”

“Can I leave you alone for two minutes while I shower? You won’t get yourself abducted again?”

“I’ll try to stay out of trouble,” I promise.

I stay there at the mirror, cleaning myself up a little, and she’s as good as her word—two minutes, tops, before she’s back with me. She stands naked behind me at the mirror, looking down at my reflection with a fond smile. We look like something from a dream…a warrior and her queen, wrapped in shadows.

I study our reflection, committing this moment to memory. Whatever comes next, I want to remember us exactly like this.

“Come to bed,” she says softly, and I let her lead me to the pullout couch she transformed into a nest of blankets while I was in the shower before. It’s nowhere near as comfortable as my bed upstairs or the cloud-topped king-size at Solara—the frame squeaks, and I can feel every spring through the thin mattress—but none of that matters when Nik joins me.

I catch a glimpse of the bruises blooming across her ribs, purple and angry, evidence of everything she’s done to keep me safe these last few days. Each mark tells a story of her devotion, her willingness to put her body between me and harm.

I reach out to touch them gently, but she catches my hand, bringing it to her lips instead.

“Time to return the favor,” I suggest with a grin, and then ruin it all with a ginormous yawn.

“Sleep,” she commands softly. “We both need it.”

I curl into her warmth, feeling sleep pulling at me even as I fight it. The lumpy mattress vanishes as she wraps her arms around me, making me feel more protected than any security system or panic room ever could.

The last thing I register is her lips pressing against my temple. And when I come to, all I want to do is snuggle sleepily into Nik. She smells of comfort and warm linen, and I think I’ve never been so happy before.

Not ever .

And then Nik says four words that make my contentment evaporate at once.

“We need to talk.”