Chapter 12

12

The advantage of working for the CIA was the ease of creating cover identities. Marissa Cole vanished the moment she walked out of AGS four days ago. Her relationship with Viktor was such a mind-fuck. He said he felt things for her, but he never said he loved her. The opposite in fact. But she would admit this much, her heart was broken. Not because she was in love with him, although she suspected she was more than halfway there, but because of the way he derided the thought of being in love with her. His tone had cut her. And how appalling was it that he scorned such feelings to Maia. Marissa congratulated herself for maintaining her composure when all she wanted to do was hide under something.

Marissa threw a piece of wood into the fireplace and stoked the flames. She was holed up in a CIA safe house that only a handful of people knew about—Viktor not included. She didn’t return to her home on Dupont Circle. She used her emergency kit. Granted that most of the items were utilitarian and in no way fashion forward. What would be more appropriate than to nurse a broken heart dressed in ugly sweats and sneakers?

She texted Allison that she was going dark for a couple of days and had her files of Stuart Kwon transferred on the separate sector of their database server where she could tunnel in without Viktor’s analyst tracking her. Then she destroyed her phone and anything electronic on her. It was time anyway. She didn’t keep cell phones or numbers for long.

The threat of Rafiq Shadid was over, but Matsuda had divulged disturbing information; SK nerve gas may have reached the eastern shores of the United States. This was the last update she had from Allison.

Marissa had been tracking Stuart Kwon’s movements, mainly through the business and society sections of Russian newspapers, but she had not come up with any actionable information.

It was time to call Allison with her new alias, Olivia West.

Affixing a voice modifier to her phone, she waited patiently for her analyst to pick up.

“Olivia!” Allison greeted her a little too brightly. “How have you been, girl?”

“Traveling. Just came back from Moscow. Never going to Russia in the winter again,” Marissa replied.

“You got bored with those gorgeous Russian men?”

Translation: No new lead on Stuart Kwon?

“Yes. So, how have you been?” Marissa asked.

“Bored. Dead end job as a secretary.”

Translation: You better come back ASAP.

“Your forwarded mail is piling up. Dad said there’s an important package for you.”

Translation: Yeager said there’s a secure cable you really need to read.

“How’s your dad?”

“He’s fine. But he’s tired of holding your shit.”

What the fuck , Allison? Marissa thought. “Um—”

“And your ex-boyfriend keeps hounding everyone about your whereabouts. Dad said it’s getting old, and he’s afraid your ex is turning into a psycho.”

Crap .

“Uh—I’ll be back soon. Hey, I gotta go. The bus is here,” Marissa lied.

“See you soon!” Allison replied in a sing-song voice.

When the call ended, she texted Allison.

Olivia: You’re fired as my bff.

Allison: Love you, too.

Later that day, Marissa opened the secure cable from one of her assets, Stan Morgan, a former transporter for a South Africa security company, SASTac. SASTac had stolen the research from Dr. Sophie Lockwood to build the zefinium bomb—a bomb that had the thermal blast of a nuclear weapon without its fallout effects. To escape prosecution, Morgan agreed to work for the CIA as an informant. His work as a transporter brought him in close contact with the underground network of organized crime and terrorists.

She sat back in anticipation as she decrypted the rest of the note:

“ I’m in DC. You sent a targeted bulletin to several of your sources to keep an eye open for a person of interest. I have information for you. ”

Morgan gave her his contact information in the U.S. Marissa logged into a chat room, which was another way for her to communicate with Morgan. He did not reply until the next morning. The meeting was set at 8:00 p.m.

She sent Allison an update.

Olivia: Received the package. Thanks, but returning to sender.

Allison: Good luck.

Olivia: Not following.

Allison: You will.

Marissa felt a riff of anxiety crawl up her spine. What the hell did Allison mean? She was tempted to call her, but she was going to be late for her meeting with Morgan if she delayed further. It was a forty-five minute drive to Silver Springs, Maryland and she had to allow for traffic. Asset meet-ups were precise, and tardiness of more than a few minutes could spook your informant, although Morgan was one tough son of a bitch.

She exited her sanctuary of the past few days. A farmhouse of some sort, out in the middle of nowhere. The internet connection had satellite backup, so she was never out of the loop in case some emergency came up. It was the end of February, and the winter was the harshest it had been in the past five years. Thankfully, she rented a sturdy SUV that managed some of the sleekest patches of ice on rural roads. As a force of habit, she checked her rear-view mirror. There was sparse traffic for miles and miles of road until she turned into Washington National Pike, and then finally, the Washington Beltway. The exit for Silver Springs came up quickly, and she started hunting for the Red-8 motel Morgan had checked into. Pulling into the parking lot, she could make out the shadow of Stan Morgan’s six and half feet bulk under the eaves of the building. Marissa tapped her brake lights twice and he started moving toward her.

He was lugging a huge duffle bag on his shoulder.

This unnerved her for a beat and a bristle of alarm tickled the hair on her nape. Her fingers hesitated to unlock the doors when Morgan tried the handle. His brows drew together as he stared at her through the panes of the vehicle.

Sighing, she unlocked the doors.

“What was that all about, Ms. Cole?” Morgan asked in irritation.

“What’s with the duffle bag?”

“I don’t like staying at the motel. I figured you have better accommodations.”

“The CIA pays you enough,” Marissa pointed out .

“True, but I reserve my options,” Morgan drawled. “Maybe you should start driving.”

“Look, Morgan, before I capitulate on your demands—whatever they are—shouldn’t you give me what I came for?”

He seemed more sinister in the dark interior of the car. “The SK nerve gas is in the United States.”

“When and how?” Marissa kept her voice steady even as her heart rate picked up.

“A few weeks ago, Stuart Kwon approached me to move some crates for him, no questions asked.”

“And?”

“I refused.”

“That hardly proves anything. How do you know it’s the nerve gas?”

“The crates were from his company, Petrech Labs.”

Marissa shrugged, determined to play devil’s advocate. “Still doesn’t prove anything. They manufacture additives for petroleum.”

“If that’s what you believe, then we have nothing more to discuss.” Morgan moved to exit the car.

“All right!” Marissa gave in. “What else can you tell me?”

“I know who moved them for him. He’s worked for Kwon for six years. Name’s Owen Reed. The ship with the crates left around the beginning of February. My contact at the Port of Baltimore tells me that ship docked five days ago. The Petrech Labs’ crates were not in the manifest of arrival.”

“Just when all hell broke loose in DC.”

“Exactly.”

“So all these assassinations were to ease the entry of the chemical weapons at our ports,” she concluded. “Has Kwon allied himself with Al-Qaeda?”

“From what I’ve gathered, their agreement ended with the attack on the Hudson Building.”

Marissa put the truck in reverse and backed out of the parking lot. “You’re coming with me.” She suddenly saw the benefit of taking him along with her as well as the flash of his grin. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m not,” Morgan replied. “Prefer to spend the night with a beautiful woman instead of the TV.”

“And no flirting,” Marissa said sharply, but she smiled inwardly. Her ego could use a boost, but she never entangled herself with her assets. She’d rather go the knuckle-scraping route than sleep her way for information, but there were some spooks who had no problem with that method.

“That’s a bit harsh,” Stan Morgan said.

It was time to change the subject. “So what were you doing in Russia?”

“Hell, no. This isn’t happening,” Marissa groaned as her SUV’s headlights shined over a familiar, black Ford Explorer. She knew her luck would run out, but did it have to happen tonight?

Viktor slammed out of his vehicle and waited patiently for her to park in front of the farmhouse. His arms were crossed in front of him, and though she could not make out his expression, she could see his whole body tensing in alert when he realized she was not alone in the car.

“Boyfriend?” Morgan asked curiously.

“Ex,” Marissa said under her breath. “Keep your mouth shut. Let me do the talking.”

“Did he cause the bruises on your face?”

“You think he’d be standing in front of us right now if he did?”

Morgan chuckled. “Want me to get rid of him?”

“Morgan, that’s Viktor Baran.” Marissa felt the need to inform him of who he thought he could “get rid off. ”

Her asset gave a low whistle. He got out of the car before Marissa could stop him. “You’re a brave woman.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Morgan closed the door firmly and leaned against it, looking at Viktor steadily though he was addressing her. “Babe, I didn’t know you wanted a threesome tonight, but hell, I’m game.”

Marissa swore she heard a savage growl before Viktor’s body flew across the small yard and had Morgan in a strangle hold.

“Viktor! That’s my informant!” Marissa screeched. “Do not hurt him.”

Viktor glared at her. “You sleep with your assets now?”

“No!” Marissa yelled.

“Babe, I thought we had a moment in the car,” Morgan managed to choke out.

Another growl vibrated deep within Viktor’s chest. His hand tightened around Morgan’s thick neck, but the idiot had to taunt the beast further even as he was turning purple under the faint light of the moon.

“Shut up, Stan. Viktor, let him go.”

Viktor’s hand released Morgan, but before Marissa could blink, his hand clamped around her wrist and dragged her a few feet away.

“You scrape me off and have my replacement in less than a week!” Viktor’s voice was a near roar.

“Hey, man, back off,” Morgan said angrily. “I was messing with you.”

Viktor turned to face the other man, the planes of his face cast harshly like clay fired in a kiln. “Stay out of this or I—will—gut—you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Morgan, damn it, here are the keys. Go inside. Stay there. Oh, and the key card disables the alarm.” She felt like a teacher having to referee between two children. Unfortunately, these were two lethal, very adult men having a pissing contest. Thankfully, Morgan decided that he was causing more damage than good, and accepted the keys after exchanging hostile looks with Viktor.

Viktor’s eyes tracked Stan Morgan into the house. His eyes sliced back to her, deep pools of ink, and even in the darkness Marissa could feel them drilling into her.

“How did you find me?”

“Chat room,” Viktor said. “You really pissed me off this time, Marissa.”

“Me, piss you off?” she said incredulously. “Did you have a lobotomy or something? Have you forgotten how you told someone else how you felt about me?” She broke off and snorted. “Or should I say not felt about me instead of having the courtesy of telling me first? The woman you’re fucking?”

“Maia caught me off guard.”

“It was the way you said it that killed me. You made it sound like it was a joke to be in love with me.”

“You’re making it such a big deal!” Viktor yelled. “Judge my actions, not my words, Marissa. I’ve never said those words, even to Maia.”

“Spare me—” Marissa paused, her eyes widening. “You’ve never told Maia you love her?”

Viktor shook his head. “Words, Marissa. Maia knows how I feel. She knows I’d kill for her, give my life for her in a heartbeat.” He raised his hand to cup her cheek. “I’d do the same for you.”

Marissa considered this for a minute. It still didn’t make up for the humiliation he’d caused her when he told Maia he didn’t love her. She threw what he said back at him. “Words, Viktor. Go home. I’m not doing this with you.”

She pushed past him to go into the house. Somehow, Marissa knew he wasn’t that easy to get rid of.

He grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “What do you want me to say? That I love you? Then hell, yes, I love you. Are you happy now?”

“You’re such an asshole,” she snarled and tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but he grabbed her shoulders instead and hauled her against him.

“Tell me what you want from me,” Viktor said brusquely. “Because if you think I’m letting you go, you’re mistaken.”

“See? This is exactly why we shouldn’t have started this up,” Marissa said. “A relationship is a two-way street. But it always has to be your way.”

“I let you have your way sometimes.”

“I’m not talking about what to have for dinner.” Marissa stomped a foot. “Gah! Go home, Viktor. I’m not ready to get into this with you.”

“Not leaving you here with him,” Viktor growled. “And don’t ever fucking hide from me again. You have no idea what I want to do to you right now.” His nostrils flared. “You wouldn’t be able to goddamned sit or walk for week.”

Heat bloomed between her legs; a rush of moisture flooded her core. A memory of his head between her thighs—licking and eating her up—made her shudder.

Viktor stared down at her, his lips curving in a sly smile. “You’re trembling—”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Viktor, it’s like thirty-degrees out here,” Marissa retorted.

“Bullshit. You’re horny for me,” Viktor whispered into her ear. “You want my cock. Admit it, sweetheart.”

“It’s always sex to you, isn’t it?”

“Goddamn it. Why are you so stubborn?” Viktor released her shoulders, stepped away from her and raked his fingers through his hair. “Do you honestly believe that? Because if you do, then we’ve nothing else to discuss.”

Marissa arched an eyebrow. Wily bastard. Is he bluffing?

“There’s nothing else to discuss,” she said flatly, turning around. “Go home,” she repeated for the third time .

A guttural sound of frustration exploded behind her. She found herself backed against her car, her body draped on top of the hood, legs shoved apart, with a very angry, obviously aroused male wedging his hips between them. Fingers yanked her hair down, tilting her face up, and his lips slammed down on hers in a brutal, penetrating kiss. Marissa fought her desire, but his probing tongue was relentless and she ended up kissing him back. There was no tenderness in his touch, and he ignored her muffled cry when his fingers dug into the side of her hip where the bullet had grazed her. His erection rocked against the soft layer of her sweat pants, rubbing her with erotic friction until she cried out and came violently.

Viktor shoved away from her, Marissa slid down the hood and was almost boneless after her orgasm. He was breathing hard, fists clenched at his sides, the night too dark to discern the expression on his face. And then he stepped forward, cupped her face and leaned his forehead on hers. “You—drive—me—crazy. I should stay away from you for how you make me feel, but I can’t, Iz. Don’t give up on me.” He slowly trailed his mouth along her jawline until it was by her ear, and he whispered, “Please.”

Please. The word, so foreign to Viktor’s vocabulary, melted her resolve.

“Come on in.”

“I didn’t mean to be so rough,” Viktor muttered. They were in the bedroom when he noticed the blood on her sweat pants.

“I’m made of sturdier stuff, Viktor,” Marissa said.

And to think he had actually leashed his urges earlier. If he had let go of the raging inferno within him, he could have seriously hurt her. He wasn’t kidding when he told Marissa she wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. Hard, long fucking that was bordering on violence was what he’d been harboring in his mind as her punishment for daring to disappear on him.

Marissa excused herself to go to the bathroom, which gave Viktor an opportunity to take a look around the place. There were two bedrooms. Stan Morgan was currently in the kitchen whipping up something to eat. When he and Marissa entered the house, the other man had the gall to smirk at him.

Viktor was already crazed from not being able to find her for the past five days. He didn’t need another man suggesting a three-way with his woman. Viktor had shared his women before, but the idea of another man touching Marissa made him want to commit bloody murder. She was his woman. She belonged to him . And he would kill anyone who would try to take her from him.

And that damning question came back to haunt him. If it had been Marissa instead who had the gun to her head, would he have given up the codes?

Viktor groaned, sat on the bed, buried his face in his hands, and rested his forearms on his knees.

“Viktor? Are you all right?” Marissa asked. She was dressed in a fresh pair of sweats.

“No.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The reason Maia and I were having a conversation—”

Marissa tensed. Viktor cursed. “She was assuring me she understood what I did.”

“That you’d sacrifice her to protect the NOC database.”

“Yes.”

“You were in an untenable position, Viktor. It was lose-lose.”

“She said she would have done the same if our situations were reversed.”

“Do you hold it against her?”

“God, no.” Viktor said, horrified Marissa would even suggest it .

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem, kitten, is I think I would’ve given up the codes if it’d been you with a gun to your head.”

Silence.

“Iz?”

“Ah . . . not sure how I feel about that.” Marissa had a deep frown etched on her face.

“But if it were me, Marissa, I’d understand.”

“No! We’re not having this conversation.”

“With our jobs, we have to, Iz.”

“What, like a living will? Fuck you, Viktor.” Marissa’s green eyes darkened with anguish. “You say it’s okay for me to let you die, but you’d let everyone else die, so I could live? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“You are the crack in my armor, Marissa,” Viktor said quietly. “The one vulnerability the enemy can use to manipulate me.”

“That’s why you’re trying so hard to train me,” Marissa choked. She was rigid against him. “Sometimes I question if we should even be together.”

Viktor hauled her onto his lap and nuzzled her neck. “I’m keeping you,” he said fiercely. “God, help me, I’m too selfish to let you go. All my fucking life I gave up everything I cared for to benefit the greater good. But not this time. Not with you. I would damn the whole world for you.”

Marissa relaxed against him. “Then we better make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

It was almost dawn, and none of them had had any sleep. But they’d managed to make headway in tracking down the chemical weapons. Starting with identifying Owen Reed. They’d pulled up video feeds from the Port of Murmansk, and though the resolution was grainy, they were able to match his features with Jonathan Owen Reed—ex-Army Ranger, dishonorably discharged after proven guilty via court-marshal. His squad leader was presently serving time at Leavenworth.

“His whole team was under fire for wiping out an entire Afghan village,” Marissa said. “Unfortunately, the CIA has reason to believe that they were political scapegoats. The village was harboring Al-Qaeda and were armed against the Rangers. The media circus presented only the pictures of dead babies and pregnant women. Not the kids toting AK-47s.”

“So the CIA keeps quiet and lets the men rot,” Viktor spat. He stood up and began pacing. “When will the agency learn?”

“You didn’t turn rogue, Viktor,” Marissa said. “You turned a bad situation around and continued serving the country, but on your terms. Reed’s doing the opposite. He’s bringing destruction on the people he had once sworn to protect.”

Viktor snorted. “The rules of engagement are set by people living their cushy lives thousands of miles away from the frontline. They have no idea of the horrors of war and what young soldiers go through. And we wonder why we produce sociopaths like Reed?”

“You’re not feeling sympathetic to the bastard, are you?” Morgan asked.

Viktor considered this before saying, “No. Reed has broken the code of the brotherhood—duty, honor, and country. That’s fucking forged in blood whether you’re serving or not.”

Marissa felt relief. Viktor was in too deep now to bail out. Not that he was the type of man to bail. Besides, she was still reeling from his last declaration.

I would damn the whole world for you .

Couldn’t Viktor just say I love you in the traditional way by just saying the words? He’d had to go and say it in his alpha badass way because if that wasn’t a declaration of love, Marissa didn’t know what would be.

Was she ready for him now? He was larger than life and knowing how lethal he was, the intensity of what he felt for her, and what he would do to keep her—all thrilled and scared her.

“Marissa, you zoned off. Sleepy?” Viktor murmured as he reached out and caressed her cheek.

“Yes,” Marissa lied, her cheeks flushing. Viktor’s eyes widened fractionally in understanding, and then he grinned. A grin that made her skin tingle all over.

“Morgan and I were discussing what to do next,” Viktor explained. “It appears Reed left with just a few men, but in order to pull this off, he probably had people already in place in the U.S.”

“The logical place to start looking is for members of his unit that were dishonorably discharged with him.”

“Makes sense.” Marissa wasn’t able to keep the yawn from escaping. “I’ll shoot a request to Allison to have their dossiers ready. I dunno about you guys, but I’m catching some z’s.”

Marissa got up from her chair, logged out of the CIA database, and headed to the bedroom. Viktor took over her laptop and brought up the AGS website.

“I’m going for a run,” Morgan announced loudly as he caught up with Marissa in the hallway. He leaned in closely and whispered in her ear. “That was hot by the way.”

“What was hot?” Marissa asked.

“That little make out session last night,” he said, his eyes looked up and down her body in a playful leer.

“You watched us?” She was mortified.

“I heard you cry out,” Morgan said in his own defense. “I was just making sure he wasn’t hurting you.”

“Right.” She didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

Morgan added with a sly smile, “I suggest you both blow off a little steam while I’m gone.” He winked at her and walked off to his own bedroom.

Viktor materialized beside her. “What was that all about?”

She wanted to bang her head on the wall. God save her from cavemen.

“Chill. Morgan just wanted to congratulate us for putting on a good show for him last night.”

Viktor frowned.

“He watched you dry-hump me against the car,” Marissa clarified.

“I see,” her man replied, his face blank of emotion.

“I see? That’s all you have to say after acting like a Neanderthal the entire time you were here? You let another man see us go at it, and you’re okay with it?”

“I’m not one for public sex acts,” Viktor said carefully. “If you were naked, that would definitely be a problem. But I’m strangely pleased Morgan saw us.”

“Oh, and why is that?” Marissa snapped. Could Viktor be more contrary?

“Because, kitten, now there’s no question you belong to me,” Viktor said softly, gripping her chin and tilting it up to him. “I own every single one of your orgasms.” He ducked his head until he was nose to nose with her. “Every—single—fucking—one.”

Oh no, she didn’t just fall asleep on him . Viktor eyed the sleeping form of his woman buried under the thick comforter. He tossed the towel on the chair. Morgan left ten minutes ago for what he said was a ten-mile run. He would have gone with him, but Viktor had a better idea how to release his tension.

Naked, he prowled to the bed and carefully tried to peel back the blanket.

Marissa’s hands clutched the cover and mumbled, “Cold. ”

“I’ll warm you up, sweetheart.” He decided to join her under the comforter and scooted close to her, and stroked her hips. She was wearing flannel pajamas. Did she think that would stop him?

It certainly helped that she was facing away from him, lying on her side with her left leg at an angle, knee resting on the mattress. He flushed his body to her back, his growing arousal rubbing against her ass.

“Viktor—”

“Wake up,” he coaxed. He lifted her thick mane of hair to one side and nuzzled her neck, pressing open-mouth kisses up and down the length of her jaw, tugging on her ear, and sliding his tongue on the sensitive skin of her lobe. His hand slipped under her top to cup a breast, flicking a nipple, and was satisfied when goose bumps bloomed on her skin. She moaned as she ground her ass into his erection, which had gotten hard enough to pound nails.

She slowly turned on her back, grabbed the hand that was on her breast, and shoved it under her pajama bottoms. Viktor nearly lost the tether on his control, which was tenuous to start. He pushed aside the crotch of her panties and stroked the seam of her sex. She was slippery, hot, and so ready for him. His fingers dipped inside. Viktor grunted, captured her lips, and kissed her ferociously, swallowing her little mewls of pleasure.

“There, I need you there,” she whispered, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Fuck foreplay . He withdrew his fingers. She protested, but not for long for he straddled her, not quite giving her his weight. He caught himself before he ripped another one of her clothes, and patiently unbuttoned her top. He tore his lips away and took in her glowing skin, frowning slightly at the bruises on her abdomen.

But he was beyond gentle right now as he grabbed both breasts and squeezed, plumping the perfect orbs to receive his mouth. He alternately sucked and licked each nipple slowly. Marissa began writhing beneath him.

“Mouth. I want your mouth.”

“Tell me where?” Viktor murmured against her lips even as he knew what she meant. She smiled languidly, her hands clutching his head and pushing it lower. Viktor chuckled. That’s his Marissa, never shy with what she wanted. If she wanted his mouth on her pussy, she demanded it. His fingers hooked on the waistband of her pajama bottoms and underwear, dragging them off in one fell swoop.

And in the cold light of dawn, he could see the glistening evidence of her desire, her feminine musk mixing headily with the clean scent of her fancy soap. She was also mostly bare. He couldn’t wait to taste her, to take all of her in his mouth. He buried his face in her molten heat and she cried out instantly. She bucked her hips while her fingers dug wildly into his hair. She was just as rough as he was and he loved it.

“Harder. Yes . . . there . . . God . . .” she screamed again as he tasted her addictive essence. He growled and sucked her clit as she shuddered against him. Her juices flooded his mouth, but he was ravenous for more, tunnelling his tongue into her entrance to seek the source of his hunger.

“Now, Viktor,” Marissa pleaded. “Fuck me now! Now!”

Sliding up her body and anchoring her leg, he sank into her by degrees, relishing the tightness gripping his cock. Pulling out, he repeated the process. Fucking hell, she feels incredible . No wonder he was drunk on her. The last vestiges of his control snapped when on his third withdrawal, he slammed back inside her and exponentially increased his thrusts, pounding inside her again and again and again.

Marissa had lost it, her head was shaking from side to side, moaning in abandon, her pussy sucking his cock in as she spasmed around him.

“That’s it, Marissa. Fuck, your pussy is tight,” Viktor groaned. His breathing serrated as he struggled to keep his release at bay to give her another one. Feral in his possession, grunting and pumping like a beast in rut, he planted a hand on the headboard as he adjusted his penetration so he could go deeper, harder. Her hips tilted up when he rammed into her at an angle, drilling into her. Mine!

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Marissa gasped. Her nails were digging into his chest. She cried out incoherently in what sounded like a mixture of pain and ecstasy, but he was too far gone. Yet he denied his release for the reward of staying inside her longer.

“Feels so good, kitten,” he said raggedly as he thrust a couple of more times. His back bowed before it arched for his release, propelling him forward, he had to grip the headboard so tight, he thought he’d splintered it. He shuddered long and hard, choking on his roar. “Marissa . . . fuck . . . fuck . . .” His heart was still racing. His breathing was labored when the last of his climax left him. He lowered his hand from the headboard and braced his outstretched arms on either side of Marissa. Staring down at her beautiful green eyes, he stated matter-of-factly, “I do believe I’m in love with you.”

Her expression was guarded, and then her lips curved in a tender smile. She reached out to touch his cheek. “I know, big guy.”

Viktor collapsed on top of her, enfolding her securely into him, and rolled to his side. After five sleepless nights, he had his woman finally ensconced in his arms and the beast inside him was quiet and content.

Viktor woke up and was not pleased when Marissa was not beside him. How could he have slept so deeply? It was almost noon, he cursed himself as he got out of bed. He had not even heard Morgan come back from his run and that bothered him. He had fucked himself into a coma and left himself open. That almost never happened. He heard voices in the kitchen and stealthily made his way over there.

“Both at the same time?” Marissa’s incredulous voice asked. “Is that even possible? That sounds painful.”

“Pleasure from pain, babe,” Morgan’s voice was thick, and Viktor bristled. He recognized lust in his tone and he hated another man calling his woman ‘babe’. And what the fuck were they talking about?

“Let me get this straight,” his woman squeaked. “One cock up the vagina, and another one in my . . . um in the ass. Wouldn’t that rip a woman apart?”

“No. You’d be surprised how stretchable—”

Viktor decided it was time to put an end to this conversation.

“Not another word, Morgan,” Viktor warned, stepping into the kitchen and became doubly furious when he saw Marissa’s guilty expression while Stan Morgan had a triumphant look on his face. The man must have a death wish because Viktor was this close to slitting his throat.

“Good of you to join us, Baran,” Morgan said.

“Fuck off!” Viktor shot back. Turning to Marissa, he snapped, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

She raised a sardonic brow, which irked him more. “You looked like you needed some rest.”

“In all the time you’ve known me, has rest been a problem?” He was unravelling and he knew it. He’d come to the unsettling realization of his feelings for Marissa, told her, shown her by worshipping her body, and all she said was “I know.” That fucking stung. Wasn’t the standard reply, I love you, too ? Fuck him! He was turning into a pussy.

“Do you need coffee, Viktor?” Marissa asked dryly.

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was asking for another hard fucking. Oh yes, she was.

Morgan sighed. “Should I have run a marathon? Would that have given you guys enough time to get this sexual tension out of the way?”

Marissa blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “Don’t be silly, Stan.”

Stan? Stan? She’s on first name basis with this prick?

“Would anyone care to explain how you two happen to be discussing—if I’m not mistaken—three-way sex,” Viktor said.

Marissa visibly gulped. She looked helplessly at Morgan.

“I was teasing Ms. Cole.” Morgan shrugged. “And she blasted me for my dig at you yesterday regarding the ménage. I suggested you looked like a man who was into that stuff.”

Fucking Stan Morgan .

Viktor kept his mouth shut.

Morgan’s lips twitched.

Marissa waited patiently for him to say something. Probably a denial. But he couldn’t lie.

“Viktor?” his woman prompted.

“I’m fucking going to gut you, Morgan,” Viktor repeated his threat to the man yesterday.

“Oh, my God? You’re into that?” Marissa asked. “Two women, one man or two men, one woman?”

“Both,” Viktor said. “And I’m not into that. Just occasionally. If the woman wants to.” He cut a sharp glance at Marissa. “But don’t get any ideas because I’m not sharing you with any man or woman.”

“So the um, two men, one woman.” Marissa was beet red and her voice trailed off. “Do you and the other guy—”

Jesus. Fuck. Shit.

“No,” Viktor roared.

Morgan burst out laughing and backed out of the kitchen. “I’ll leave you two to sort it out. I’ve got errands to run.” To Marissa, he asked, “You sure I can use this crib while I’m stateside, Ms. Cole?” Viktor wondered what those ‘errands’ were, but he’d guess it was some kind of job .

“I’m sure,” Marissa replied. “I need to get back to DC, anyway. Keep your nose clean.”

“Right,” Morgan nodded. “Call me if you need anything. And thanks for loaning me your car.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the kitchen after Morgan left the house. Viktor broke it first. “So you’re returning to DC with me then?”

“Do I have a choice?” Marissa asked warily.

“Not really.”

More silence. Viktor knew better than to act all jealous and possessive over Marissa now that he’d had the time to calm down. He still didn’t like it that his woman was sharing such an intimate conversation with another man. But there were just too many strikes against him yesterday that he was probably bordering on psycho territory—Marissa just brought out that tendency in him. He was keeping an eye on Stan Morgan. That man was a troublemaker.

This time it was Marissa who spoke first. “Am I enough for you, Viktor? Sexually?”

His chest clenched from the crushing uncertainty that clouded her face, and he cursed Stan Morgan once more for opening that can of worms. “You’re the best I’ve ever had, kitten.” He pulled her close, pressing their hips together, his eyes gazing into hers intently.

She pursed her lips. “It’s just that I’ve heard so many rumors about your lifestyle from different quarters and yet you’ve never suggested anything deviant for us.”

“Are you suggesting I’m too vanilla?” Viktor’s mouth brushed the tip of her ear. “Do you want me to fuck you in the ass, sweetheart?”

“Um…no.”

“Nipple clamps?”

“What?”

“They’re exactly that, something to pinch your nipples—”

“No! ”

“Then I won’t,” Viktor murmured. “I get what I need from you, Marissa. I had those kinks all those years because the sex was never satisfying.” And that was the undeniable truth. Though he wasn’t about to tell her it was his way of coping from losing her that first time. A form of control. With her, it was more than a physical connection. It was on a primal emotional level that shot straight to his very soul.

Marissa nodded. “I don’t mind the cuffs and spanking though.”

And just like that, he was ready to take her again. “Oh, believe me, sweetheart, I don’t mind either. Not at all.”