25. Chapter 25

twenty-five

Clara

I 'm wetter than a damn rainforest down there.

Really, Clara? Way to keep it classy. My nethers are practically singing the Hallelujah Chorus at the first hard cock they’ve come across in five long years.

Congratulations, you’re the lucky winner! I think wryly as I stare down at Leonid beneath me. Claim your prize — one (1) hot, ready, and oh-so-willing baby cannon. Batteries not included.

It’s almost funny, in a twisted sort of way. Here I am, straddling my mortal enemy, and all I can think about is riding him like a frontrunner at the Kentucky Derby.

Motherhood has clearly done wonders for my priorities.

But can you blame me? Between midnight feedings, diaper changes, and spit-up stains, my vagina has been drier than the Sahara. The only action I’ve gotten lately is from my trusty vibrator, and even that’s collecting dust bunnies under the bed.

Now, with Leonid’s rock-hard erection pressing against my aching core, my body is coming alive in ways I forgot were possible. It’s like every nerve ending is standing at attention, ready and eager to surrender to this man’s touch.

Down, girl, I mentally chastise myself, even as I feel a fresh gush of arousal flood my already soaked panties.

Remember who he is. What he’s done…

But then I meet his gaze, and the breath catches in my throat. Those eyes… they’re not the icy blue orbs that have haunted my dreams for fifteen fucking years. The eyes that stared me down as he murdered Jake.

No, these eyes are a warm, whiskey brown with flecks of gold that catch the light as he stares up at me.

Familiar in a way that sends a pang of longing straight to my heart. They remind me of… Elijah’s.

What the actual hell?

Did I officially lose my mind?

I blink, trying to clear my head. But it’s impossible. Not with him so close, his body radiating heat like a furnace.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Just like his little boy. Scratch that. My little boy.

Ruggedly handsome, with a jawline that could cut glass and cheekbones you could slice your hand on.

And don’t even get me started on his mouth. Those lips, full and sensual, curl into a smirk that makes me want to do very, very bad things.

Down, girl. Focus.

This is Leonid fucking Kuznetsov. The boss of the Ravens, the most notorious mafia gang in the whole goddamn region.

He’s the fucker I’ve been gunning for my entire adult life.

It might not have been his face I saw; could’ve been one of his thugs. But make no mistake—they’re all bloody Ravens, every last one of them.

He might just be the son of a bitch who had Jake killed.

I can’t be getting all hot and bothered over him. No matter how fucking sexy he is.

But my body doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. Because every inch of me is tingling, aching, desperate for his touch.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I need to get out of here.

But as I try to move, his hands tighten on my hips, holding me in place.

“Not so fast, kotik ,” he purrs, his voice low and rough. “We’re just getting started.”

I glare down at him, hating the way my body responds to his every touch, his every word. Hating myself for wanting him, even now.

But I can’t deny the truth. He’s gotten under my skin, burrowed deep into my mind and my flesh until I can’t tell where the hatred ends and the desire begins.

In one swift motion, Leonid flips us over, pinning me beneath him on the plush carpet. I gasp at the sudden shift, my heart slamming against my ribs. He looms above me, his eyes molten and intense as they bore into mine.

“Now tell me who the fuck you are,” he demands.

“You don’t need to know that,” I spit back. “Get off me. Now,” I sneer, mustering all my strength to push him away. But he counters smoothly, dropping his weight back down and capturing my wrists. His hands pin them firmly to the carpet, his body anchoring me.

His lips quirk in a devilish smirk. “Now, why would I do that? Things are just getting interesting.”

He leans down, his mouth hovering a breath from mine. I feel the warmth of his exhale on my lips, the scrape of his stubble against my cheek.

God, he’s intoxicating. Every cell in my body screams to close the distance, to taste him, to let him consume me.

Fuck, my body seems out of control; every instinct screams to arch into him, to relieve the throbbing ache building between my legs. But I can’t give in to this insanity. I need to get out of here before I lose my head completely.

I try to buck him off, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. He’s too big, too strong, his body an immovable weight above me.

And fuck, if that doesn’t just make me wetter.

Think, Clara. Think…

Just then, the man who’s been standing at the door clears his throat awkwardly from the doorway.

“Erm… I don’t want to spoil the fun,” he whips out a gun, aiming it directly at me, “but I think it’s time we take the party somewhere else…”