I've been called all sorts of names in all the years I've been loyal to Mikhail and the bratva. But I don’t murder for sport. I'm not an animal. My decisions are thought out and planned.
"But you are dangerous," she says and turns her head, eyes on me.
"I won't lie to you." There's no reason to hide the truth from her about who I am. That stupid federal agent already spilled my secrets. "I've done things I'm not proud of, but I always protect my family first and foremost."
What else did he tell her?
My stomach flops as I stare at her and realize she has far too many clothes on, and if she's been accosted by the FBI, she could be wearing a wire.
There were no vehicles following us on our way. There's no one out here for miles in any direction. But if she's recording our conversation, she could hand it over to the feds.
I have to know that I can trust her.
My fingers skim over her hips and up her stomach, trailing a rough, warm path against her skin. I need to see that she's not wired and has nothing to hide from me.
I gently allow my palm to graze her stomach before guiding my hand under her shirt. There is plenty of space for her to have a wire taped or tucked into her bra.
I feel nothing but soft skin and hear a moan slip from the back of her throat. "You would never betray me, kitten, would you?"
My palm rubs over her breast. She's wearing a bra, unlike last night when she'd been dressed down. Not that she's sporting a gown, but she's in jeans, instead of sweats, and a nice shirt.
I don't get my hopes up thinking she's dressed this way for me. That would be ludicrous. I barely know the girl, but I'm memorizing every inch of her body as I massage one of her breasts and unclasp her bra with the other hand.
The material feels thin and lacy. It's too dark to see what it looks like under the night sky. The moon is a crescent, barely offering any light cast through the trees.
Did she wear that for me?
I rid her of her shirt, lifting it over her head, and the bra glides off her arms, revealing no wire. I'm relieved that she's not secretly working with the feds.
Savannah loosens my tie and slowly frees the buttons of my dress shirt. I slip my suit jacket off and lay it beside us on the tent's floor. I should have changed into something more practical for camping, but I didn't want to clue Savannah in to where we were going.
Besides, it's not as though we're hiking or spending hours on the trails. We'll pack up the tent, head out to breakfast, and return to the city tomorrow.
Savannah climbs onto my hips, straddling me as she hurriedly works the buttons free and peels my shirt off before bending down and covering my lips with hers.
She tastes sweet, like honey and almonds. I nip at her lips and roll around, wrestling her beneath me.
Her eyes shine in the darkness as I lift my hips and unbutton her jeans, guiding them down and off. Her panties are made of the same material as her bra. There's lace along the sides and silk at the front.
My fingers itch to rip her panties off, but instead, I drag out the moment, wanting to hear her moans and pleas. I like watching her restless and needy at my hands. Something is satisfying in knowing that I've made her that way.
"Anton," she purrs my name in that sultry, sexy voice that sends a jolt of electricity riveting inside of me.
I want to set her ablaze, screaming my name, all inhibitions gone. Her focus is on me, undressing me, helping me out of my pants so that I'm naked along with her. I shuck my pants to the side and settle between her thighs.
Her fingernails scratch at my back as she grows restless with anticipation. No doubt she's tired, and there are still specks of glitter on her cheek, hair, and probably all over her body. There's not a shower at the club, and she didn't have time to run home and get cleaned up. I'll see glitter for the next week on me, and I don't give a fuck.
I just want to be buried deep inside of her.
I crave her touch, her body nestled with mine. After our experience together last night, she's like a drug, and I need my next fix.
Will she give me what I so desperately need, her?
My mouth grazes her stomach as I nip and kiss her hips, pulling her panties down with my teeth.
She gasps, and her fingers tangle in my hair while lifting her hips for me to maneuver her panties off. I growl at her eagerness and explore every inch of her body, tasting her and listening to her soft pants and pleas as she begs for more.
The moans and sounds she makes drive me wild, and before long, she's clenching around my fingers. I want to be buried deep inside of her. I climb back up her body, ridding myself of my last shred of clothes, my boxers. I reach for my wallet to grab a condom before positioning myself at her entrance.
Her legs are bent, and her eyes struggle to remain open. Each breath is heavy and raspy as she waits for me.
I don't want to crush her. She's delicate compared to me, sweet and perfect. I fill her, burying deep inside. As I enter her, she moans and the sounds she makes drive me wild.
Each thrust grows more intense.
Hotter.
Vibrant.
Like fuel thrown on a fire.
Her fingernails scratch my back and down to my ass, marking me.
The impending explosion comes crashing down. Her insides quiver, and she tightens and shudders, spasming around me. I'm with her, on the edge of oblivion, falling and gasping for air as my heart slams against my ribcage.
Perfection.
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