24. Chapter 24

24

Wren

D wrenches open the car door, cool air hitting me like a slap. "Move your ass, krasotka. Unless you want to spend the night here."

I glare at him, eyes raking from his slick, dark hair down to his rugged face. Fuck, even pissed off, he looks good enough to eat. My gaze keeps dropping, takin gin the expensive Armani suit.

But who am I kidding? I'm not looking at the threads. My eyes zero in on the bulge in his pants like a heat-seeking missile. God damn. Is he always packing that much, or is he just happy to see me?

I shouldn't be gawking at his junk like some horny teenager, but fuck if I can help it. He's too close, and suddenly, I'm back to last Friday. His hands all over me, grip tight enough to bruise. The way he tasted like expensive whiskey and danger. How he made me come so hard I saw stars…

"You look like you're up to no good. I like that." He cocks his head to the side, his eyes turning dark as they linger on me.

Our eyes lock once more, and holy shit, the look he's giving me could melt steel. Part of me wants to climb him like a tree right here in this garage. The other part wants to punch that smug grin off his face.

Behave, Wren!

I force a smirk, trying to play it cool. "Just admiring the view. Didn't realize hired muscle come so…well-dressed."

He leans in closer, his breath hot on my ear. "There's a lot you don't know about me, kotyonok. "

A shiver runs down my spin, and it's not from the cool air. I need to change the subject before I do something stupid, like grab him by that thick neck of his and…

Jesus Christ. My fucking G-string is officially ruined.

" Nice setup you've got here," I say, finally tearing my eyes away from the promise in his pants. "Very…you."

The garage is huge, spotless, and screams money. There's D's SUV, but also an Aston Martin that looks like sex on wheels and motorcycle that's probably worth more than my fucking life. Everything's got it's place— tolls all lined up nice and neat. There's even a gun safe, because of-fucking-course there is.

"Impressed?" D sounds way too pleased with himself.

I roll my eyes. "It's very orderly. Bet yo uget off on color-coding your bullets, huh?"

He doesn't answer, just step back so I can get out. My legs feel like jelly, and I'm not sure if it's leftover adrenaline or just being around him.

That's when I spot it. Tucked in the corner, there's a workbench covered in… model cars.

What the actual fuck?

I move closer, curiosity getting the better of me. They're everywhere—little plastic kits in various stages of being built. Some look like kids' toys, others are fancy as hell with tiny engines and shit.

I turn to D, unable to keep the surprise off my face. "These yours?"

For a split second, he looks almost embarrassed. It's so unexpected I feel a little dizzy.

"Everyone needs a hobby," he grunts.

I look back at the models, not sure what to think. It's weirdly… sweet? Definitely not what I expected from Mr. Anger, Dangerous, and Sexy .

"Huh," is all I can manage.

He clears his throat. "House is this way."

I follow D out of the garage, the cool night air hitting my skin like a slap. The fucking sequins under my jeans itch like crazy, a glittery reminder of how close I came to being some psycho's play thing tonight.

"Hey, what about my clothes? I can't exactly prance around in stripper gear all night."

D doesn't even look back, just grunts, "I'll find you something."

Great. I'll probably end up swimming in one of hisshirts. The thought sends an unexpected jolt of heat straight to my core.

Fuck.

As we walk, a house comes into view. It's not the Bond villain lair I was expecting, but a modest two-story joint. Wooden siding,a porch with a swing. It looks… normal. Almost cozy. Who knew the big bad Russian had a soft spot for Americana?

"Where the hell are we?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Safe," he replies, cryptic as ever. His jaw is set, eyes scanning the perimeter like he's expecting trouble to pop out from behind a tree.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, but safe where? We drove for a long time, Dimitri. You planning on keeping me prisoner in your little love shack?"

He stops so suddenly that I almost crash into his back. His head tilts up, and I follow his gaze. Holy shit. I've never seen stars like this, not with all the city's light pollution. They're everywhere, like someone spilled glitter across black velvet.

"Upstate," D says finally, his voice softer than I've ever heard it. "No one knows about this place." His hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach out but is holding himself back.

I turn to look at him, and my breath catches. The starlight softens his hard edges, making him look almost… human. He's close, so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body. His scent—gunpowder,expensive cologne, and something heady—fills my lungs, making me dizzy.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, not sure if I'm talking about the stars or him.

His eyes meet mine, and suddenly, the world narrows to just us. The air sizzles with tension, with possibility.

D moves first, his calloused hand cupping my face. His thumb traces my bottom lip, rough skin catching on the soft flesh. I can't help the small gasp that escapes.

"Wren," he growls, and it's a question and a warning all in one.

Fuck it.

I answer by closing the distance between us, pressing my lips to his. For a moment, he's still as stone, and I worry I've royally fucked up. Then he growls—actually growls —and takes control.

His kiss isn't gentle or sweet. It's hungry, demanding, like he's trying to devour me whole. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I moan, pressing closer. I can feel the vibration of his answering groan in his chest.

My hands fist in his jacket, needing something to anchor me to reality. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I can feel every hard plane of his body, especially the impressive bulge pressing against my stomach. Christ, he's big everywhere.

I nip at his bottom lip, drawing a harsh breath from him.

"Careful, kotyonok ," he warns, voice rough. His hand tangles in my hair, tugging just enough to send sparks of pleasure-pain down my spine.

"We shouldn't…" D breathes, his voice rough with desire.

"Shouldn't what?" I murmur, tracing my tongue along the seam of his lips before sucking his bottom lip between my teeth. My body's on fire, craving his touch like a junkie needs a fix.

"Shouldn't break the rules," he pants out, his hands sliding down to grip my hips.

Rules? Since when does Dimitri fucking mafia boss care about rules?

I arch an eyebrow, pressing my body closer to his. "And what rules are those?" God , his cock is hard as steel now. I slide my hand down, palming him through his expensive slacks.

"G-god," D groans into my mouth, his hips jerking involuntarily. "That… it's only a one-night thing," he finally manages to grit out.

"I don't remember setting rules when we first fucked," I purr, rubbing his hard length with more pressure. His breath hitches, and I can feel him trembling with the effort to maintain control. "You suddenly play by the rules, big guy? I sure as hell don't."

God, I want him. I want him to take me right here under the stars, consequences be damned. His hand starts to slide under my shirt, rough fingers leaving fire in their wake.

A sharp buzzing cuts through the night. D tenses, pulling away so fast it leaves me reeling. The loss of his warmth is like a physical ache.

He pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen. His face hardens, all trace of vulnerability gone in an instant.

" Poshol na khuy ,"he mutters, jaw clenching.

"What is it?" I ask, trying to catch my breath and regain some semblance of control.

He looks at me, and for a second, I see regret in those Frosty pools of midnight blue eyes. Then it's gone, replaced by his usual mask of cool indifference. "Business," he says curtly, already turning toward the house.

Goddammit, I want to punch whoever's on the other end of that call. Fucking cockblockers. Now I'm left high and dry, my body humming with need and my clit throbbing like it's got a goddamn heartbeat of its own.