Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Isabella

My new husband kisses me.

I let him.

It feels good to just let everything go for a little while, to relax and enjoy this. My eyes flutter closed, and his hand comes to the back of my neck. I'm not the type of girl who surrenders easily, but knowing what we have to do and who we are—I lean into this.

When we pull away, I'm all kinds of aroused, and I'm not the only one. "You're beautiful. There's something crazy that lights a fire in your eyes."

I grin at him and wink. "Takes one to know one. Now do I get the grand tour or what?"

"Let's settle for the mini tour. I just want to find our room and put our bags away for now."

"Yeah, I need a shower after all that."

"Bed would be nice."

I look around. It is fucking beautiful here. I feel like someone handed me a glossy pamphlet at a travel agency, and I stepped right into the picture. I've never seen anything like this in my life.

Granted, I've never really been on vacation before, but God, we fucking earned this.

I reach for my bag, and Lev grunts and takes it out of my hand.

I frown at him. "Dude, you don't think I can carry my own bag?"

"Isabella," he says in a growl that makes my nipples hard.

Excellent. My new husband has the ability to turn me on with his voice. I guess that's his superpower.

"It's not a question of if you can. Jesus, let me carry my wife's bag."

"Alright, alright."

I give him a sidelong look as we head down toward the hall to where our room is marked on the map.

We have to have sex, that I know for sure. He mentioned something about a rivalry between him and his brothers having babies and whatnot as if they need to repopulate all of New York with virile Romanov genes. And logic tells me that sex is the way to get there.

While I'm not too thrilled with the idea of giving birth to children anytime soon, I wouldn't mind a few practice sessions.

Also, this is the God's honest truth… He is hot. Like next level, light up my uterus, can I sit on your face, sir, hot.

I may have thought about being chained up in his basement more than a few times. And the way we harmonized on that helicopter—it was seamless. Beautiful. Thrilling.

We walk down the hallway. I would think it would feel odd to be in a vacant resort, like there are ghosts around here or something, but it doesn't feel odd at all. It feels kind of nice.

I like being alone with him.

"Are you hungry?" he asks. Our footsteps are noiseless on the thick carpet. They've obviously prepared for our arrival, as I can still see faint lines from the vacuum in front of us.

"Not really. You?"

"No. Shit . I just remembered we left the cake on the helicopter."

I shrug my shoulders. "Meh, I don't eat cake. It's fine. It was a nice gesture and all, but I'm sweet enough without the extra carbs."

"Sure you are," he snorts.

"And anyway," I say, watching his reaction. "I just married my enemy, so it's really no cause for celebration."

"Mmm. Good point. Honestly, this villa is pretty much like a prison. Looks just like one. You may as well be shackled in my basement still."

Why does that only make me want him more? I'm thirsty . Yes. I'm so fucking thirsty, and here I am, striding down a hallway toward the bedroom with New York's ultimate thirst trap.

I swallow hard and try to look away, but I can't help admiring him. Dressed all in black, the defined muscles in his shoulders and arms bulge with the effort of carrying our bags, but he doesn't hunch over. His body is a masterpiece of masculine perfection, and I am so fucking here for it.

I don't have to fight him anymore. I don't have to hide from him. I need to convince him to partner with me. I need to convince him to jam together the well-oiled machine of his family and mine… and then make it all work.

I can do this. I must do this. I have no other choice.

"According to the map… this is ours."

I turn the handle, and the door opens. I stifle a gasp. " Dios mío . This is beautiful." The honeymoon suite at the island villa is a dream. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the ocean, so brilliantly blue it reminds me of an aquamarine necklace my mother used to wear. Waves kiss the shore. Sheer white curtains billow with the ocean breeze. A plush, king-sized bed made in crisp white linens stands in the center, a tray on the bedside table welcoming us with rose petals in the shape of a heart surrounding a bottle of champagne nestled in a silver bucket, two crystal flutes beside it.

I swivel my gaze around, trying to take it all in—a spa-like expansive bathroom boasts a clawfoot tub with a view overlooking the ocean and a walk-in shower encased in glass. Thick white towels on a shelf beside glass bottles of lotions and soaps. A basket of washcloths and more rose petals. Every damn detail hints at luxury and peace.

"My God," I say, staring out at the expanse of the blue ocean from the balcony. "I can't imagine anything more beautiful."

A beat passes when his dark eyes meet mine. "Really?" His voice is a low purr. "I can."

I swallow hard. Is this where the Big Bad Wolf takes off his mask and devours me whole?

I remind myself—I am strong. I am fast. I can get in and out of tight spaces with ease. But logic reminds me,there's no escaping him now.

He was right. The best way to keep me shackled to him was to bind me with vows, and I'm sure Mikhail sending us to this island had more to do with keeping me hostage than it did giving us a honeymoon. I can't run. Even if I could escape him in the middle of the night, what would I do? Swim? To where? Both of our families know that I'm married to him now.

But I don't want to leave him , I remind myself. My instincts have always been to run. And now… the greatest challenge lies in staying.

I meet his eyes. Lick my lips.

"Mmm? What's more beautiful than this?" I ask, aiming for a seductive tone, but instead, my voice sounds small and a bit subdued.

"You. Naked." He punctuates each word by removing an article of clothing. "On all fours in the middle of that fucking bed."

He tugs the end of his shirt straight over his head and whips it toward our luggage. Next, he unbuckles his belt. My mouth goes dry. I watch him tug it through the loops. When he snaps it in his large, capable hands, pressure and need build between my legs.

I need him. I want him.

"All fours? Like an animal?" I tease.

"Like my wife."

"You like calling me that."

He shakes his head. "You have no idea."

His eyes are on fire, and when he pushes down his jeans, I can see the long length of his erection in his boxers. Holy hell, he's just as turned on as I am.

Lev's eyes blaze as he stares at me, and the intensity of his gaze makes the pressure between my legs throb. I stifle a moan. He steps closer, the muscles in his torso tight as he pulls me into him. His body is hot to the touch, chiseled; the man's a fucking paragon of masculine perfection. His lips find my ear, the warmth of his breath fanning my neck.

"Strip," he orders, his voice low and commanding. I freeze. When I don't obey immediately, he claps his hand on my ass. I squeal.

My hands shake as I reach for my top and pull it over my head. I let it drop to the floor as his eyes roam over my body. The heat of his gaze warms me like a physical touch.

I tug off my shorts and stare at him. "Do I get to touch, too?"

He narrows his eyes at me. His voice cracks like a whip. "What did I say?"

Oooh, Jesu . My pussy clenches, and I stifle a whimper. I'm so exposed in front of him like this.

I project myself as a confident woman, but the years of forced modesty were so beaten into me I can't help but feel incredibly exposed.

I'm not used to being vulnerable in front of anyone, much less a man.

He's my husband.

Shit.

"All of it, Isabella," he rumbles.

I swallow and hold his gaze as I unclip my bra. "Good riddance," I mutter as I toss that to the floor. Fucking hate those things. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my thong, sliding it down over my ass and my thighs. His eyes darken with lust as he takes in every inch of my naked, vulnerable body.

"Good girl," he says, his voice a rough purr.

Oooh. Oh, I like that.

"Say that again," I beg. "Please."

He leans in closer and gathers my hair in his fist before he gives it a tug. His mouth to my ear, he whispers, "You like it when I call you a good girl? Do you like it when I tell you that you please me?" He trails hot fingers down my spine.

"I do."

I do. What is that about?

"I love how feisty you are. I love how you fight. I've been hard since the helicopter." He bends and kisses my jaw, his voice a low rumble. "Now get on that bed like I told you."

I walk to the bed, holding his gaze, and climb on. Positioning myself on all fours as he commanded, a surge of arousal floods through me. The way he looks at me—like he's starving and I'm his next meal—ignites me.

Yet he doesn't rush. He takes his time, moving behind me. Circling me. Taking everything in.

I bow my head. I hear the rustle of fabric as he removes his boxers. The bed dips under his weight as he climbs on, his hands gripping my hips with a possessive strength that makes me gasp.

"Spread your legs wider," he demands, his voice brooking no argument.

I obey, spreading my knees apart until I'm completely open to him. I'm wet, so damn wet. His fingers trail down my spine, making me shiver, before one hand wraps around to cup my breast, squeezing hard enough to make me moan.

"You belong to me now, Isabella," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "And I'm going to remind you exactly what that means."

"Let's see what you've got." I smile to myself, but my sass earns me a sharp slap.

I moan.

He positions himself at my entrance, and I feel the hard length of him press against my wetness. Without warning, he thrusts into me, filling me completely in one powerful stroke. I cry out as he sets a relentless pace, his hips slamming into mine with a force that leaves me breathless.

"That's it," he groans. "Take all of me."

I spread wider and lean my chest on the bed.

His hands move to grip my wrists, pinning them down as he pounds into me. The sensation is overwhelming. I fucking love the way he takes control. I can't move, can't think, only feel the intensity of his possession.

When he leans over me, his chest presses against my back, and I feel his hot breath on my ear again. "You're mine, Isabella. Say it. "

"I'm yours," I gasp, my voice barely more than a breathless moan.

"Louder," he demands, his thrusts becoming even more forceful.

"I'm yours, Lev!" I cry out, my body trembling with the force of my orgasm as it crashes over me.

"That's right," he growls, his own release imminent. "You're mine, and I'm never letting you go."

He thrusts into me one final time, groaning as he comes deep inside me. His grip on my wrists tightens momentarily before he releases me, his hands moving to cradle my body against his as we collapse onto the bed.

For a moment, we lie there, our breathing heavy and our bodies damp with sweat. Then he turns me to face him, his eyes softening slightly as he brushes a strand of hair from my face.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine in a surprisingly tender kiss.

I smile up at him, feeling a strange mix of emotions. I feel like he's tugged a zipper down, and I'm completely undone.

"Lev," I say softly. I want to tell him my plan. I want to tell him everything.

But I don't. Maybe I'm not courageous enough yet. Maybe I need to get to know him more before I do.

Maybe…

"Mmmm?" he says, his eyes closed as if he's ready for sleep. It's been a long day.

We're tired.

"Let's get some sleep," I whisper, my eyelids feeling suddenly very heavy.

I wonder what it would be like to really trust him. I wonder what it would be like… to experience real love.

His breathing slows. Mine matches his. I'm warm and comfortable, and the bed is so soft, I fall asleep.

I wake the next morning to Lev's head between my legs.

Oh my God . Am I dreaming?

I find myself in a beautiful resort with the sunrise out my window and a white sand beach. The hottest man I've ever met is between my legs, worshiping my clit as if his life depends on it and I'm the queen who can grant him salvation.

"Hands above your head," he commands in a low growl from between my legs, lest I forget he's the one in charge. I immediately comply, my mind wandering to what he would do if I didn't.

I'd probably like it.

Just for fun, I reach down and tug his hair. As if on cue, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of my inner thigh. I yelp.

"What'd I say?" he growls. "Do I need to tie you to the bed and whip your ass before I make you come? Or are you going to be my good girl and come on my face?"

Oh shit. Oh hell. "I'll be a good girl— this time anyway," I say as sweetly as I can. He licks my clit lazily, stifling his own groan. "Jesus fucking Christ," he whispers reverently. "You taste delicious. I love this. My God."

He licks me again and again. My hips jerk and spasm, pleasure washing through my lower belly. I'm warm and tingly, and I haven't even come yet.

"You taste like sunshine and sex, like whiskey and sin had a baby."

I giggle and bite my lip. "You're so romantic, you weirdo."

He bites my thigh again, and I scream.

"Now you've done it, bad girl," he says, giving me a stern look. Shaking his head, his eyes are on fire. "Disrespecting your husband?"

He's on his knees, bending down to reach for something on the floor. Oh my God, he came prepared. He has the belt from one of the plush bathrobes in his hand. In one deft movement, he ties my wrists to the headboard and wraps the belt around them, securing it in place.

On his way back down, he slaps my pussy.

I gasp. "You can't spank me there!"

"I can't?" he says, bending over and spanking me again. "Do you really want to test that theory? My belt isn't far off. I can go and get it if you really want me to prove how easily I can whip your pussy."

It's rare that I'm completely dumbfounded, but he's done it. I stare, shivering at the sound of his dark chuckle, before he positions himself between my legs again. My hips jerk, eager for the warm, wet pressure of his tongue. He groans, his muscles tensing, his stiff cock in his hand as he jerks himself off while licking my pussy.

This is the dirtiest fucking thing I've ever seen, and I am so here for it.

"You have my permission to come. This time," he says. He licks me again, and my hips rise. He sucks my clit between his lips.

I shatter. The first spasm of ecstasy crashes through my veins, riding through me. He licks my clit, and I jerk and scream, my wrists tight in my restraints, my hips rising as I come on his face. He grips my ass and squeezes hard.

"Jesus," he says to himself in a reverent whisper. "She's still coming." He licks me again and again. My orgasm is interminable. I think I stop coming and then go into a second one as he drives his fingers into my channel, pumping. I soak his hand, and still I come. Over and over, I climax against his mouth until I'm spent and can't move.

I'm still tied to the bed when he grabs my legs, spreads them wide, and positions himself above me, driving his thick, hot, throbbing cock between them.

I come again as he thrusts into me, over and over, until I can't take it anymore. I'm as weak as a rag doll, lying in the bed as he groans, tightens, and spills inside me. "Jesus," he says. "Never seen one like that before. You're so uninhibited. It's the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen. God , woman."

"You weren't exactly Mr. Shy when you came either, caveman."

That earns me a bonafide smile from the guy.

"Ooh. A smile. What will you do if I feed you breakfast ?"

He snorts. "Eat it? But you're not feeding me breakfast. I waited a long time for this. You stay here. I want to eat breakfast in bed with you."

He unties my wrists, and I lean back on the pillows, still warm and pliable after coming like that. "Alright," I say. "If you insist." Good thing he's planning on feeding me since I don't really trust myself to walk right now.

"You'll find out soon that I don't usually make suggestions."

"Mmm," I say thoughtfully as he tugs on boxers and heads to the door. "You'll find out soon I don't usually obey."

The heat of his gaze turns whatever bones I have left to jelly. "We'll work on that."

"I hope we do."

He shakes his head and heads for the door.

"Why are you wearing boxers?" I ask after his retreating back. "There's no one here."

"I can guarantee there's video surveillance in the hallway, and I have no interest in my brothers seeing my junk."

God. "Fair enough. So, I guess I can't waltz around naked either, then?"

I wait for what's sure to be a rewarding answer. "I'd have to fucking kill them if they saw you naked, so yeah." He turns around halfway out the door. "And you wouldn't sit for a fucking week."

Jesus. I came twice, and now I'm turned on again.

I half fall asleep before he comes back with more food than I could eat in a week, but I'm famished, and the ripe fruit and scrambled eggs are delicious.

"What do you want to do on our first day?"

"Check out the workout room and make our way to the beach." I shrug. "Fuck my husband again."

"You're right," he says with a nod.

"About what?"

"You definitely don't need cake to party."

I smile. "Yeah and it's probably time to talk about birth control."

He blinks. "Birth control? Fuck birth control. We're married."

I stare at him. Jesus. "What? I'm not ready for babies yet, Lev." I checked my bags already and confirmed I have my pills with me. It was one of the first things I asked Polina about and she hooked me up.

"I get it. It doesn't have to happen today." He pauses. "I'll take very good care of you as my wife, Isabella."

My heart thumps. "Even so… I'm not sure how I feel about having children."

"Why?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.

I look away, struggling to articulate my feelings. "I don't know."

I tell myself I don't want to have swollen ankles and heartburn and stretch marks. But the truth is, I really don't know why I don't want children. There's a part of me that really, really does. I love holding babies, kissing their sweet little heads. The way they hold your finger when they sleep and how adorably they smile and coo. It's not that I don't want babies… just maybe not right now.

And I always envisioned having babies with a man I actually love. My voice is a bit tighter than I intend when I snap back at him. "I just don't want babies right now, okay?"

His face grows serious. "My family will expect it."

"Really?" I ask, curiosity piqued. God, of course they do.

"We are strengthening our roots by having children. Growing in numbers." He shakes his head. "I want you to want the children, though."

I purse my lips. "Why is that?"

A muscle tenses in his jaw. Before he responds, he takes our plates, stacks them, and lines up the napkins before placing them on a tray.

"Because children aren't commodities." Ooh. That touched a nerve. "My father treated us like that, like trophies to win and put on a shelf, and it's not right."

I swallow, looking at him. "You want me to want a baby," I repeat.

"Absolutely."

Well now he's really pushing it. I frown at him. "You want to be a father?"

His dark eyes grow earnest. "I do. So much."

It is not fair the way he makes me melt like that. What is it about a man that says he wants to be a daddy? I swallow the tingly feeling in my throat and look away.

"Even though you had a bad one…" I guess I'm telling him more than I planned.

I turn my head away, uncertain how to continue. How would that work, me being the queen of Colombia and him in the Bratva and pregnant ?

Maybe it's time I tell him about my plan.Maybe it's time he knows marrying me comes with decided benefits… if we play this right.

I stare at him, unsure if I can trust him yet.

Will there ever really be a time?