Theaella

81

“I don’t care if it’s healthy,” he whispered. “Whole damned world’s unhealthy. You think all those people living in giant houses on the lake have happy, pretty, perfect lives? You think those bitches aren’t backstabbing each other while their husbands f*ck interns on their lunch breaks?”

I shook my head.

“My friend Kimber’s not like that. Her life’s nice and normal and not crazy at all.”

“Then she’s one in a thousand,” he replied. “Because I swear to you, sometimes the nastiest s**t happens behind the prettiest doors, while everyone laughs and smiles and pretends everything’s okay. Here’s the thing about my world. We’re f*cked up. We own it. We take care of business and move on. In twenty years those ‘healthy’ people you’re so jealous of will still be backstabbing each other, and their kids will, too.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said.

Boris scowled and pushed himself up abruptly. Then he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of wheat. I squawked as he carried me out of the room and up the stairs to his loft, kicking and punching him the entire time. Didn’t do a bit of good. I don’t know what I expected—maybe that he’d throw me down on the bed and r****h me, like a movie or something. He didn’t. Instead he carried me into his big bathroom, dumped me in the shower and turned on the faucet.

“What the hell are you doing!” I shrieked as cold water hit me, still fully clothed. Boris grabbed the shower hose and started spraying me down with it.

“I’m showin’ you respect,” he yelled back at me. “So sorry I got you all messy earlier. Just doing my best to make this relationship healthy and clean, because that’s so f*ckin’ important to you. Aren’t I a f*ckin’ parince?”

“I hate you!” I screamed, lunging for the hose. He laughed and sprayed my face. I lashed out and slipped. In a flash, Boris caught me, then pulled me tight into his body. I found myself looking up at him, my wet clothes soaking both of us, one of his arms wrapped around my waist and his other hand tight in my hair.

We glared at each other.

“Jesus, you f*ck with my head,” he said roughly. “My c**k gets hard just thinkin’ about you. You’re in my dreams every night. I wake up in the morning and all I think about is you in my house, you and Noah finally mine. My family. It’s even better than ridin’ my bike. I’m crazy for you, Soph.”

I shook my head, stunned. I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t afford to.

“You’re just saying that to control me,” I whispered, not sure whether I was talking to myself or him.

“f**k me, you just don’t get it, do you?”

He took my mouth in a fast, hard kiss and I fought him for about two seconds. Then I gave in, because my body recognized him, needed him. Suddenly there were too many clothes between us. Our hands scrambled and I discovered that water-logged jeans—even cutoff ones—must be the least convenient thing on earth to wear when you need quick access.

Still, I managed to get them down and kicked away just as he grabbed my waist, spun me around and leaned me against the counter. I looked up to see him in the mirror, face flushed red with need, eyes captuaring mine as he slammed his c**k deep inside. It filled me fast and hard, stretching me until it bordered on pain. I gasped, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain.

I’ve never felt anything better in my life.

“Fuckin’ crazy for you,” he muttered, fingers digging into my skin. “Always have been.”

“Boris …”

Then he took me, forcing me to brace myself with both hands as he pounded me from behind. One hand steadied my hips while the other reached around to my c**t. That piercing of his slid along my G-spot, the hard little knobs of metal on the top and bottom of his c**k head carrying me to a whole new level of sensation. My o****m hit with agonizing speed and I screamed, pulsing around him.

Boris thrust three more times and then he came, too, hot seed spurting.

Shit. We’d forgotten the condom again.

He pulled out of me slowly and we looked at each other in the mirror, our chests heaving. He was fully clothed and I still wore my T-shirt. My hair was sopping wet and scraggly, and eye makeup ran down my face.

I was a hot mess without the “hot” part.

“Do you have any diseases?” I asked, my brain vioiantly fighting for control. He shook his head, still watching me in the mirror.

“I always use a condom,” he said. “Never f*ck a girl without one, actually.”

“f****d me without one twice,” I said, my voice dry. “Wanna rethink your answer?”

He offered a smug smile.

“I know you’re on the pill,” he said. “So pregnancy’s not the issue. Also know you’re clean. You’re my woman, so why shouldn’t I feel you around me? And I swear to you, babe. I have never, ever f*cked anyone without protection before. I even donated blood about two weeks ago—all clear.”

“That’s a relief,” I said, straightening. I looked around for my panties and shorts. They’d landed near the toilet, dripping water everywhere.

“How do you know I’m on the pill?” I asked, reaching for a towel to wrap around myself.

“Found ’em in your purse,” he said without a hint of shame. I looked up, startled.

“Why were you in my purse?” I asked, not pleased.

“To get your phone,” he replied, tucking himself back into his pants. “I wanted to set up the GPS on it.”

I stopped cold.

“You have GPS tracking my phone?” I asked, incredulous. “What the hell is wrong with you? You want to chip me like a dog, too?”

“I want to be able to find you if there’s an emergency,” he said, his face growing serious. “I know it sounds paranoid, but we had a real bad situation last winter … Claire and Horse would be dead right now if I hadn’t had GPS on her. Nearly died as it was. Now I do it for all the girls in the club. Don’t worry, I don’t spy on you or anything. But it’ll be there if you ever get in trouble.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” I said, closing my eyes. I was exhausted, I realized. No wonder my brain wouldn’t kick in and tell me what to do.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said. “I’m tired. You’re tired.”

“I’ll sleep downstairs,” I told him, clutching the towel as I reached for my clothes.

“You’ll sleep up here with me,” he replied. “You can fight me on it and lose, which is more work for both of us, or you can just give in. Gonna end the same either way.”

I looked at him and knew he was right. I’d set him straight later—right now I needed rest.

“Can I borrow something to wear?” I asked, trying not to yawn. “I’m too tired to go get dry stuff.”

“I’d rather you sleep naked.”

“I’d rather you go f*ck yourself, but seeing as that’s not an option, can I borrow something to wear?”

He smiled at me.

“Knock yourself out. Shirts are in the top drawer, underwear in the second one down.”

I left the bathroom and looked around to find his dresser. Sure enough, the top drawer held a variety of T-shirts. I found one with a Reapers symbol on it and pulled it out. Then I moved down to the next drawer. Most of his stuff was black or gray, but a flash of pink in the back caught my eye.

My mind briefly ran over my financials, concluding quickly that my job as a page at the New York Public Library would not suffice to support myself and the embryo. I’d have to move into research, which I had been avoiding—I loved the solitude of shelving books, and trading that for a full day researching any and everything for strangers sounded exhausting. A nanny would be necessary, of course, but who didn’t have a nanny in Manhattan?