He made a rough noise. “Dvoye mertvetsov.” Two dead men.
I frowned. “I’m not going to tell you stuff if you’re going to kill people because of it.” Odd I needed to make that clear . . . but that was where I was.
His eyes darkened. “Was one of them Ivan?”
“No.”
The look in his gaze cooled. “Fine. They can live.”
“How noble of you,” I returned drily.
“Keep going.”
After a moment of thought, I said, “Five men have kissed me. When I’m not being held captive, I wash my hair with Pacifica. And it takes me three hundred and eighty-eight licks to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.”
He laughed at the fact I knew the answer to that question. “Fuck.”
That single word said nothing and everything at once.
“Is your curiosity satisfied now?” I questioned.
His eyes grew heated, then he released his grip on my wrists and ran a thumb across my lips.
“Nyet.”
His touch burned and swelled heat inside me. My breath grew shallow. My chest burned. I was at the bottom of a pool, curly hair floating and aglow. And I no longer cared if I drowned.
“Will you fuck me now?” I asked.
He nipped my throat and growled, “Da.”
D’yavol may have stolen my breath.
But I gave him my heart.
Sweat ran rivulets down my back, my long hair was damp and stuck to my skin, and my muscles embodied jelly, moldable and pliant as Ronan put me through every sexual position known to mankind. We would have gone through three condoms by now—if we were using them at least. Not that I didn’t try to encourage it.
“Wait,” I’d breathed nearly two hours ago before Ronan pushed inside of me. “Condom.”
“You have an IUD.”
“Condoms are for more than birth control.”
“I’ve already been inside you bare. If I have something, you do too.”
“That’s comforting.”
He chuckled roughly. “I’m clean, kotyonok.” Then he filled me so perfectly my eyes rolled back, and my brain shut down.
Now, I was on my back with my legs over his shoulders while he fucked me so hard I’d feel him next week. My moans trembled with every thrust, my nails digging into his thick thighs. He was less human and more like D’yavol when he fucked. He seemed to have a never-ending stamina and a criminal sort of purpose, as if he was taking something he shouldn’t but relishing every moment of it.
He slowed his pace and rasped, “What are we on?”
Releasing a tortured groan, I tossed my head on the mattress. “No . . . I can’t. Not again.”
He pushed my legs off his shoulders, came down on top of me, and nipped my neck. “I think you can.”
With a sigh, I turned my head to give him more access. “Don’t you have to go to work?”