Chapter 16

16

Viktor stood in the middle of her living room, one hand gripping the scruff of the shirt of Trent’s buddy, who was on his knees. The other two were piled on top of each other, right where her coffee table once sat.

Marissa didn’t know how to react to the scene before her. She was pissed that her precious antique was smashed, relieved that Viktor was back, and alarmed that her brother had a gun pointed at her lover.

Knowing that her brother had not decompressed from heightened vigilance that followed each deployment, she was worried that he would shoot first and ask questions later. Viktor wasn’t helping things by pasting on that cold, unfeeling mask of his. There was nothing more chilling than being faced with a man wearing an expressionless face, who had just taken down three men—big men she might add—with his bare hands. They were drunk as sailors judging from the pervading stench of whiskey in her living room, but the tension in the air was electric.

Time to prevent a disaster.

“Trent, put down your weapon. I know him. ”

“One of your men?” Trent asked. Marissa knew what he meant, but Viktor took it the wrong way and scowled darkly.

“We do work together, but no, he’s not CIA.”

Trent relaxed and lowered his gun. Viktor released the guy he was holding who face-planted on her floor.

Still scowling, Viktor said, “Marissa, put some fucking clothes on.”

“Now look here—” Trent began, confusion in his voice as her brother’s eyes swung to her, then said, “Um, he’s right, sis.”

She looked down at herself, appalled that her nipples were clearly visible through her low-cut sleeping camisole which also left little to the imagination. She crossed her arms in front of her and warned, “Don’t break anything else.”

“Iz—”

“All right. I’m going.”

Actually, she was eager to get out of the kitchen. Let Viktor deal with the awkward questions she was sure Trent would be asking.

“So you and my sister?” Trent asked tentatively.

Viktor nodded, but kept his eyes on the three men who were slowly coming around from the systematic takedown he’d given them. They were lucky he’d quickly dispelled the thought that Marissa had replaced him with three whiskey-wasted fuckers. If they had been Reed’s thugs, they wouldn’t be spending their night drunk in their target’s living room. So when one of them ambled toward him, he quickly sidestepped him and sent him crashing—quite purposefully—on top of the ugly coffee table that he detested. The second man was more prepared and actually caught Viktor in the gut with his shoulder, sending him crashing against a wall. However, he quickly caught the second guy’s forehead on his knee and sent him tumbling on top of the first guy. A third man came at him with an iron poker and nearly took out his eye. That just pissed Viktor off, so he swiftly side-kicked him into Marissa’s glass dish cabinet. The man came at him again—quite unsteadily—so Viktor kneed him in the gut, sending the man to his knees. Viktor caught the scruff of his shirt and was ready to knock him out when the kitchen lights came on and Trent Cole appeared with a gun pointed at him.

Marissa appeared behind her brother, half-naked for Christ’s sake. How dare she go to bed in those clothes in a house full of men? Drunk fucking Army guys who probably hadn’t gotten laid in months. Didn’t she have any sense of self-preservation? Did she think her brother could fight off three men like he did? Didn’t she know how fuckable she looked, looking so disheveled with her breasts almost spilling out, her nipples taunting him to take a bite?

To take his mind off the tightening in his pants, he answered Trent. “Yes, your sister and I are together.”

“I find it hard to believe she’s dating you,” Trent said, oblivious to the way Viktor was now glaring at him. Or maybe Marissa’s brother was testing him.

“I wouldn’t call it dating,” Viktor said. And that was the truth. He was not one who went on dates.

It was her brother’s turn to scowl. “She deserves more than being a f— someone you sleep with.”

“You’re her dirty little secret,” Trent continued when Viktor didn’t correct him.

Now wait a minute. He definitely didn’t want to be her secret. He wanted every single male—attached or unattached—to know that she belonged to him. Besides, he and Marissa had grown into their relationship amidst danger and mayhem, which tested the mettle of what they shared more than any damned date. Before he could set her brother straight, the idiot added, “I knew she wouldn’t consciously be with someone like you—”

“You do realize you’re insulting me,” Viktor said, his voice had taken on an edge.

“Not at all,” Trent shrugged, but the smirk on her brother’s face belied his words. The three men on the floor started picking themselves up, moaning probably more from a hangover than the beating they had just received.

“Despite her kickass persona, Marissa’s a princess,” Trent said with fondness, Viktor grudgingly noted. “You’re kind of like these guys,” he nodded to his buddies. “Rough and probably exciting. But hate to tell you, man, she’s all Italian leather pumps, haute couture, and five-star restaurant dining.”

“You don’t know your sister very well,” Viktor replied, but a damned pain gripped his chest hinting that maybe it was he who didn’t know Marissa well. Without all this danger, would she still find him appealing? He knew she hated the sterile environment of his house. Knew she loved this prissy row house and everything classy that went with it. Hell, he’d been tempted to tell her to decorate his loft to her liking, but cringed at the idea of her moving her ugly antique table into his living room. Thank God, he took care of that problem, quite expeditiously in fact.

“Look around you,” Trent invited. “This,” he waved his hand over the French stove, to the silly matching rooster salt and pepper shakers, the wrought iron scroll work on the wall, and down to the expensive Persian rug along the hallway, “will always be her. And if you know her at all, the stuff she uses for personal care could cost a mint and probably your entire month’s salary.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Viktor gritted through his teeth. “Are you suggesting your sister is slumming? For all you know, I may want to be her kept man.”

Trent chuckled. “You don’t know my sister at all. She’s a damned strong woman. I doubt she’ll want a man who would allow himself to be kept. The man for her needs to be more than her equal. Look, man, you pulled off some serious shit here, but I doubt you could’ve taken my guys if they were sober.”

Bring it on, you prick , Viktor thought. He was angry. And he simmered with one emotion that was entirely foreign to him—insecurity. Just when he thought he was beyond his dockworker past, the insecure boy from the projects reared his ugly head. He knew Marissa’s family could trace its roots to American royalty and her father was American shipping magnate Trenton Cole III. But he had made something of himself, damn it. AGS was no small enterprise.

“You’re not intimidating Viktor, are you, Trent?” Marissa asked with a grin on her face. Oh, her brother already did, but not in the way she thought.

“Viktor?” Trent frowned.

Marissa rolled her eyes. “Men.” She turned to Viktor. “You guys didn’t introduce yourselves?”

“I know who your brother is, Marissa. I have a file on every single one of your family all the way to your second cousins,” Viktor drawled, noting with satisfaction the deepening lines on Trent’s face.

“Who exactly are you?” Trent asked warily.

“Viktor Baran.”

“Holy shit balls!” One of the drunken men exclaimed, coming forward to take a better look at him. “The Viktor Baran. Man, you’re a living legend.”

Viktor hated groupies. But this was one time he was thankful for his reputation, for it wiped the smirk off Trent Cole’s face.

“All right, no fan-girls in my kitchen,” Marissa said. “I’m making coffee, but you guys have to go somewhere else for breakfast. I have cereal, no milk. I haven’t done groceries yet. ”

“I’m back and have stuff at my place,” Viktor pulled Marissa into his arms and nuzzled her neck. Trent was glowering at them, but Viktor didn’t give a fuck that it made her brother uncomfortable. He needed to feel his woman.

“So you’re bringing him to Tuesday dinner?” Trent asked casually, and he felt Marissa stiffen. What fucking dinner?

“I just checked my messages last night, Trent, and Viktor just got back,” Marissa said flippantly. “Haven’t mentioned it to him yet.”

The smirk was back. “My mom’s dinner parties are legendary. Sit down, not black tie though, don’t worry.” Trent leaned in as if conspiratorially. “But definitely no cargos, jeans, or tees.”

“Um, Mom’s parties are not Viktor’s style,” Marissa said desperately, and Viktor caught the warning glance she shot her brother. Then looking up at him she said, “Don’t feel pressured to come. You’ll be bored out of—”

“I’ll go,” Viktor said shortly. He was pissed at Trent and Marissa for different reasons.

“Seriously, Viktor—” she tried again, but he cut her off.

“Might as well meet the parents,” Viktor said sarcastically. “Make some coffee, Iz.”

Marissa put the dirty coffee mugs in the dishwasher, sighing with relief when Trent and his friends decided to leave. She couldn’t wait to be alone with Viktor. Whether she admitted it or not, this last separation had been hard. Probably because they hadn’t spent much time together since the attacks in DC. And something was bothering her man. She could sense it in the way he touched her. The brand of his possessiveness was more distinct. His gaze, normally cold when other people were around, was scorching every part of her body .

She could feel the heat emanating from him as his arms pressed around her. His right hand went straight for her breast. The left slipped down and stroked the mound between her legs. He was already hard. He pushed that hardness against her, his hot breath fanned her neck and he whispered, “I wanna fuck you.”

“Um . . . I can tell,” Marissa teased lightly. “Let me—”

But he spun her around and captured her lips ruthlessly. His chest bending her slightly backwards over the sink. Her arms came up to tangle her fingers into his hair. He pulled her away from the kitchen. They were spinning and kissing, his hands gripping her face as he plundered the hell out of her lips.

Her foot hit the bottom of the stairs and they went tumbling. Her back struck a step, thankfully cushioned by his arms, but it still hurt.

“You want it rough, huh, baby?” Viktor rasped as he gazed down at her. Marissa had a strange sensation in her stomach. Despite the smoulder in his eyes, his behavior was distant, his words different.

“What’s wrong, Viktor?” She tried to prop herself with her elbows, but he shoved her back down.

“Nothing is wrong. I just want to fuck you,” he said. “Take you real dirty with these filthy hands of mine. But don’t worry, your parents will never know you’re slumming.”

Oh, God . Anger took her out of her sensual haze and she used her legs to push him off.

She scrambled to her feet. “What the hell is wrong with you? What did Trent tell you?”

“He didn’t need to tell me anything.” He tried to reach for her, but she batted his hands away.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Oh, so now that your worlds are colliding, you don’t want me to touch you?” Viktor said scathingly. “What’s next? Stick me under your precious rug? ”

“No! Trent caught me off guard, and I don’t know if you think we’re serious enough for you to meet my family.”

“You’re laying this shit on me?”

“You know, for all your badassery, you’re quite immature when it comes to everything else.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re forty-six, Viktor. You intimidate senators and directors of every government agency I know. You can certainly handle one Trenton Cole III.” She was spitting mad that he would think she was embarrassed to be with him. “I don’t give a flying fuck that my dad or mom would turn up their noses at you. I’m thirty-six freaking years old. I have my own money. I run a black ops team. And you . . . you run a multi-million dollar security firm.” She looked up and down at him in disgust and shook her head. “You think I’m so shallow after all we’ve been through. I don’t need your shit!”

She ignored the flash of panic and remorse on his face and ran up the stairs. He caught up with her in the hallway, pinning her against the wall with his body.

“I’m sorry. Damn it.” He cupped her face and leaned his forehead into hers. “I’m so fucking sorry, kitten.”

“Didn’t take you for an insecure jackass,” Marissa mumbled. “Your hotness level just dropped to six point five.”

A rumble of laughter shook his chest. His lips were a breadth away from hers. “Could I make you reconsider?” His tongue shot out and traced her lips.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m pretty pissed at you right now.”

Viktor immediately dropped to his knees and ran the back of his hands under the stretchy jersey skirt she had changed into. His fingers trailed up the back of her thighs before he palmed her ass, bringing her core right smack into his face.

“I can smell your arousal, duchess.”

“Drop that stupid nickname or I’m . . . Oh, God . . .” He just tongued her through the thin material.

“I’m going to fuck you with my tongue until you scream. ”

Marissa’s anger leaked out as Viktor continued his dirty talk. Telling her how he intended to make it up to her, how he was going to worship every inch of her.

He shoved the long skirt up and disappeared under it. Shifting one leg over his shoulder, she could feel him biting the inside of her thigh, brushing his nose only so slightly over the mound between her legs. She was certain that she was already drenched.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked. His hands squeezed her thighs in warning. Then his fingers nudged the scrap of silk out of the way and he began to lick her. Gently at first, just sliding his tongue right at the seam of her sex, and then growling, he parted her folds and started using both his tongue and mouth, alternately licking her opening and circling or sucking her clit. The pressure building between her thighs suddenly exploded. She was sure she had drowned Viktor with her orgasm, but he continued to wring it out of her.

Strength left her legs, but he propped her up, mumbling incoherently against her pussy, he continued to eat her like a man denied sustenance for too long. She watched his head move under her skirt, worried that he would suffocate underneath all that fabric, but he continued to lick her, even when her orgasm left her.

She wanted something else altogether now. She wanted his cock. A long wet ride on his big, gorgeous cock.

“Viktor—”

He groaned something like “A little more.”

The throbbing between her legs became incessant, she wanted him to pound into her.

“Viktor—”

His head suddenly appeared, and he was kissing her. His mouth, wet with her essence, devoured her lips. He yanked her hair down almost painfully. “Can’t get enough of you. I—love—your taste.” He was kissing her neck, nipping her, rubbing his erection against her stomach. His hands went under her skirt again and yanked her thong off and brought it up near her face.

“Smell yourself, Iz. That smell drives me crazy.” He pocketed her underwear, unbuckled his belt, and pulled down his zipper.

“This is going to be quick,” he grunted against her neck. “I’m so hard for you. I could drill into concrete.”

Her laughter was cut short when he lifted her legs around him, cupping her ass. His erection claimed her in one vigorous up-thrust. He stilled for a moment to let her get used to his size. He trailed his lips on her jaw before taking her in a deep, tongue-tangling kiss.

Then he began to move.

Slow measured strokes.

Each thrust slamming her back against the wall. Her hands gripped his shoulders, feeling the muscles bunching under her fingers. He continued to kiss her, a rumble resonating deep in his throat with each grind of his hips. Her deep-bellied need escalated, pulsing for release.

“Grip me with your legs,” he ordered. When she did, he wrapped one arm around her body and with the other braced against the wall, he increased his rhythm, pounding into her in earnest now. She could feel the girth and length of his cock stroking every crevice of her sex, exciting her bundle of nerves to an excruciating peak until she came apart. Coming so hard, she was sure she could never reach such heights again. Pulsing waves of pleasure twitched between her legs. Viktor tore his lips away from her and stared down at her as she found her release.

“You’re so beautiful, kitten. Love watching you—”

Her inner muscles clamped down on him.

“Fuuuuuck!” He unleashed a string of expletives as he buried his face into her neck. Hammering into her, his own climax following her own. He shoved inside her and stilled, spilling his cum. He spasmed several times, breathing hard.

Viktor threaded his fingers through her hair. They were both covered in a sheen of sweat. Sex sweat, the kind that just rises ever so slightly from the pores, but shrouds you in that pleasing afterglow.

“I hope I’ve regained those points,” Viktor murmured against her lips.

“Hmm . . . you’re probably a seven . . . ow.” He slapped her ass. “You’re a ten!” she laughed as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed.

He took off his jeans and shirt, and stretched out beside her.

“I was an ass earlier,” he muttered. “But you’re stuck with me, Iz. You belong to me and no one can get rid of me. Not your brother, not your parents, not even you.”

“Strong words, Viktor,” Marissa said lightly, but her heart was pounding. Tell me you love me , she wanted to say, so I can say it back .

But he didn’t. And Marissa figured, she’d have to wait a little longer to tell him what she really felt for him.

Marissa was lying on top of him. He’d just woken her with his tongue and fucked her very slowly. He savored her softness, her addictive heat gripping him like a silken glove, and her heady scent that was uniquely her. He managed to coax her back to his loft yesterday, leaving the mess of her row house behind. He told her he’d get someone to clean it up since he created the mess.

It was a Sunday morning, and this was a rare occasion to be lounging around in bed, with no crisis or city to save from terrorists.

Viktor didn’t know what to do with himself. On days like this, he’d usually run a half-marathon or go into AGS and just work on cases. Yes, he’d had a pretty shitty personal life and he’d been fine with it, but now that he had Marissa, he wondered if he should be doing more.

He gritted his teeth as he remembered his conversation with Trent. Doing more . Like taking Marissa on a proper date. He trailed his fingers absently on her upper arm.

“What do you want to do today, kitten?” he murmured against her hair.

She stiffened, pushed away, and peered down at him. “What do you mean? Don’t you have to go in to AGS?”

“Nope. All yours, baby.”

Her expression hazed in confusion. Not uttering a word, she got up and went to the bathroom.

What the fuck just happened? Viktor thought irritably. What the hell did he say?

Muttering about complicated women, he followed Marissa into the bathroom. She was brushing her teeth, regarding a spot on the wall with intense contemplation. Sighing, Viktor did the same, the whir of electronic toothbrushes the only sound in the room.

She finished, wiped her face on the towel, and walked out.

Reaching the end of his patience, he quickly rinsed his mouth and stalked out after her.

“What did I say wrong?” he asked when he caught up with her in the kitchen.

“I don’t know how to deal with this new side of you,” Marissa said. “First, you agree so readily to have dinner at my parents and now this. It’s almost like you’re about to ask me to do normal couple things.”

“Aren’t we a fucking couple?”

Marissa quirked her brow. “Fucking couple is appropriate.”

“Shit!” Viktor raked his fingers through his hair. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Do you think for a second that sex is all I want from you?”

“Of course not,” Marissa said. “When we got together, we never had the chance to do regular couple things—”

“Like dating—”

“Or just hanging out,” Marissa said. “We’re always investigating new leads or battling a life or death situation. We have sex when we’re coming down from a high of adrenalin. And now you ask me what to do when I’m all relaxed—I have no idea.”

“We have to start somewhere.”

“But I know you don’t do these things. I don’t want to change you, Viktor. I accept the man you are. You don’t have to buy me flowers or take me to nice dinners.”

“Are you sure?” Viktor asked sarcastically. “Because your brother thinks otherwise. Part of me agrees with him that you’re not cut out for someone like me. But damn it, the bigger part of me knows that I could make you happy.”

“And you do.” Marissa stepped toward him and put a hand on his jaw tenderly. He could see in her eyes that she meant it, and that only pissed him off more.

“How? Getting you off on the thrill of a mission or just plain getting you off in bed?” He backed away. He knew he was getting worked up over nothing. Why rock the boat when everything was working? But he was in this with her for the long haul. He wanted forever with her.

“That was crude,” Marissa snapped, crossing her arms in front of her, a sure sign of her growing temper.

“So do this normal shit with me,” Viktor demanded with a wave of his hand.

“Okay. Are you willing to go to the mall?” Marissa asked.

“What?”

“Mall,” Marissa repeated impatiently. “Shopping.”

“Can’t you get everything online nowadays? ”

Marissa rolled her eyes. “See. First suggestion and you’re weaselling your way out.”

“I don’t think I’m the only man who hates shopping. We can go out to dinner.”

“Steak house? Jacket required?”

Viktor scowled. “Meet me halfway here, Marissa.”

And then he realized she was teasing. He caught her around the waist and hauled her up against him. “We could go running together,” he suggested against her lips.

“Only you would consider that quality time or dating,” Marissa retorted. “Look, frankly, I think you grill tastier steaks than anything I’ve ever had at any restaurant. All the food you’ve had delivered here is top-notch. I’m getting used to your little repertoire of home cooking. I only suggest that you lay off the butter and use more olive oil or my thighs will hate you.”

“I love every part of your body.” His voice had turned husky, his eyes taking in her delicious, lithe form. “You’re perfect, Iz. Perfect for me.”

He teased her lips into a gentle kiss.

“I don’t want you changing either,” Viktor said softly when he stopped nibbling at her lips. “I like you in your classy getups and suits, especially when you wear those stockings and garter shit. I like the smell of your fancy soap. And I want you to officially move in with me.”

She gasped at his last statement.

“Hear me out,” Viktor continued quickly. “My place is safer. I know you hate how it’s furnished, so I’m giving you free rein to do what you want. Just don’t put damned drapes on the windows, and I’ll be okay.”

“Darn, and I just lost my antique table and china cabinet.”

Viktor silently thanked whatever gods were responsible for his luck.

“Is that a yes? ”

“I’m practically living here anyway,” Marissa said. “I don’t want to give up my row house though. It took me forever to score that property.”

“I don’t like the idea.”

“Viktor, I need a place I can call my own.”

“Why? So you can leave whenever you’re pissed at me?”

“Now that you mention it, maybe.”

That really pissed him off, but he managed to keep his tone level. “I don’t think I’ve made myself clear enough. So I’m spelling it out for you.” He ignored her squinting eyes and continued. “What we have is not a temporary hook up. You’re my woman. I take care of what’s mine. The roof over your head. What you eat. Hell, I’ll buy you all your fancy clothes and soap. I don’t want you to have too many options, like a row house you can retreat to when you’ve got something up your ass.” She sputtered at this, but he continued speaking over her. “When you’re horny and need some fucking—my tongue and my dick are your one and only option. I want to be your one and final option for everything you need.”

Viktor noted with satisfaction when Marissa’s eyes gradually widened. Of course she had to lick her lips when he mentioned fucking her with his tongue. He knew she loved his oral skills, and just the thought of burying his face between her creamy thighs was making him hard. But he had to make it clear that his cock came with a ball and chain. She wanted his dick, the rest of the man came with it—warts and all. She would be forever his, with no fucking escape clause.

“Um . . . that’s a tempting proposition but—”

Her indecision snapped his control.

“I’m fucking in love with you, woman,” he roared. “Do I have to spell it out any clearer than that?”

The tension that bristled close to her skin and held her stubborn stance all through this discussion evaporated. Her eyes filled with emotion as she whispered tremulously, “I love you too, Viktor. ”

His eyes closed. This was it. He searched deep inside himself and his heart was bursting with the words he had denied saying with conviction for so long.

He gripped the back of her neck and drew her close to him. His forehead dropped to hers. “Fuck, Marissa. I love you. I love you . . .”

He whispered the words over and over like a chant, as he pressed kisses on her face like a benediction.