Alexei (Her Russian Protector #8) (37 page)

Gripping her hips, he hauled Shay onto her knees and pushed them apart. He sheathed himself with one swift thrust. She clawed at sheets and rocked back against him. He took her easily at first, enjoying the leisurely pace and sweeping his hands up and down her back. The grey light creeping through the windows washed over her body, but it wasn’t enough to highlight the sensual curves he’d grown to love so much.

Cloaked in shadow, he ran his palms over her perfect ass. Wondering if she might be interested in one of his favorite bedroom activities, he dragged his thumb between her plump cheeks and then circled the tight pucker hidden away there. She gasped when he touched her so intimately, but she didn’t pull away or tell him to stop.

Permission granted, he drew lazy circles around it, applying a subtle pressure, but he didn’t try to penetrate her. She wasn’t ready for that yet, and he’d only hurt her if he tried to slide in dry. But he could tell by her excited breaths and movements that she liked the way it felt. She was definitely curious, and he intended to help her explore that curiosity soon.

Alexei slid his hand along her waist and down the slope of her lower belly until he touched her clitoris. She bucked against his hand, and he grinned devilishly. She responded so beautifully and easily. The combination of his deep, measured thrusts and his rubbing fingers was enough to push her over the edge again.

Her orgasm felt incredible for him. The sensation of her snug pussy gripping him as she cried out his name made his balls ache. Dropping his hand, he gripped her hips and took her faster. She jerked on the sheets, her fingers fisting around the fabric as she met each powerful thrust. Deeper. Harder. Faster. He chased that burning, throbbing pull building at the base of his spine.

Taking her hair in one hand, he pulled her head back, gently but with some force, and bit the side of her neck. He wanted to leave a love bite right there, a little mark to remind her that she belonged to him and that she drove him fucking crazy when they were together. Shay’s shocked gasp was the trigger for his orgasm. Buried deep inside her, he closed his eyes as a pleasurable bolt rocked him.

They collapsed together onto the bed. Tangled in the sheets that had popped free, they panted and trembled. When Shay turned toward him, he gathered her hot body in his arms and drew her in close. She pressed sweet, soft kisses on his jaw, each one causing his heart to swell with his unspoken love for her.

The urge to confess it all was so strong, but he knew she wasn’t ready. Instead, he declared, “Fuck running! I’m going to set my alarm for this every morning.”

Shay giggled and pressed up on one hand. Looking down at him, she caressed his face. Her hair fell around them like a curtain. He almost couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Running her finger around his lips, she whispered, “You amaze me.”

“If you think this amazing, wait until you see what I have planned for tonight.”

Shay laughed again and bent down to kiss him. Drawing back, she said, “I’m going to take a shower and then I’m going to cook you breakfast.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Let me guess. Mistresses don’t cook breakfast, right?”

“No, they don’t.”
But wives do
, he thought wistfully.

Touching her forehead to his, she whispered playfully, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve never played by the rules.”

He patted her bottom. “A very good thing.”

Shay kissed him one last time before crawling over him and sliding out of bed. He gave her a few minutes of privacy in the bathroom and waited until he heard the shower running to join her. Glad for the multiple shower heads, he went through his usual morning routine, but he kept sneaking glances at Shay as she washed and conditioned her hair, shaved her legs and soaped up her body.

He had always dreaded this kind of closeness with another person. With earlier relationships, he had feared sharing his home with a woman with a nearly claustrophobic desperation. Today he couldn’t bear the thought of Shay straying beyond arm’s reach.

When she stepped out of the shower, he switched off the water and followed her. Watching her dab the water from her skin and rub lotion into her legs and arms was better than a striptease. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he decided he liked how comfortable she had grown with him. They’d come a long way since that first night at the penthouse when she had covered up like a nun and run for cover behind a door to avoid being seen.

Standing at the counter, he leaned down at the sink and splashed hot water on his face before reaching for his shaving brush and the canister of shaving soap he preferred. He had just started to work up a lather with the brush when he noticed Shay standing in front of her meager selection of clothing. Wearing only her panties, she held a pair of those black yoga pants she liked and reached for the last remaining clean shirt.

As he lathered up his face, he said, “We’ll have to get your things from the house.”

“If we don’t, I’ll have to raid your side of the closet.”

The thought of Shay in his button-downs brought a smile to his face. When she was dressed, she wrapped her damp hair in a towel and brushed her fingers across his back. He paused his shaving to quickly sneak in a kiss before she moved out of reach.

“Alexei!” She laughed and wiped at the shaving foam on her chin and nose.

Chuckling, he handed her the nearest towel. “Sorry.”

“I doubt it.” She cleaned her face and put the towel back on the counter. She leaned toward the mirror and eyed the love bite on her neck. “And this?”

“Not sorry,” he said, scraping his razor down his cheek.

“Just remember that two can play that game,” she warned as she backed out of the bathroom. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll send you to work looking like the quarterback after the homecoming dance…”

He wasn’t so sure that was a bad thing, but he didn’t dare tell her that. He finished his morning routine and put on a crisp black suit and shoes. He picked out a watch and cufflinks, slung his jacket over his shoulder and left the master suite. Downstairs in his office, he crouched down to open the safe hidden in the credenza behind his desk.

As was his habit, he counted the neatly stacked envelopes of cash, ensuring not a single one was missing. Each envelope contained a mix of cash, the notes bound tightly in their brightly colored currency straps, and the dollar amounts contained within written on the upper right corner of each one. He had a good idea of the monthly salary Shay brought home so he added it to the allowance figure he had in mind for her so she could cover her expenses and have plenty extra to spend on herself.

After he gathered up the envelopes he needed for Stas and made a mental count of the amount of replacement cash he needed from the bank, he eyed the extra set of house keys and the key to the garage lockbox. When he’d called in a locksmith to change all the locks the day that he closed on the property, the locksmith had assumed he would need a set for his wife. Alexei had dropped them in the new safe a few days later, and the set had been waiting here ever since.

Waiting for her…

His phone started to ring as he was locking up the safe. Tossing the envelopes of money and the keys onto the credenza, he answered it. “Hello?”

“Alexei?”

“Yes.” He closed the cabinet door guarding the safe and rose to his full height. He pocketed the extra set of keys.

“It’s Spider. I wanted to let you know that my girl is boxing up Shay’s place. I’ll have some of my guys drive the truck over to your penthouse this afternoon.”

“No, have them bring it to my house.” He rattled off the address while gathering up the envelopes. “Stas can help your men unload the truck.”

“Whatever you want,” Spider replied.

“Is there a balance on the lease?”

“They just renewed in May.”

“Have someone run a bill to my office. I’ll cut a check to cover the rest of their lease.”

“If that’s the way you want it,” Spider said. “But you should know that the police were crawling all over that house yesterday.”

“So I’ve heard,” Alexei confirmed with irritation.

“I trust you know how to handle your business.” Spider didn’t need to say anything else. “If you need my help, you know where to find me.”

The call ended and Alexei pocketed his phone. Envelopes in hand, he made his way to the kitchen, his stomach growling as he inhaled the delicious scents wafting from there. When he arrived, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Shay cooking.

Lingering in the doorway, he watched the way she moved around the kitchen with ease, tending a pan on the gas stove and keeping an eye on something in the built-in ovens at the same time. She was totally at home in this environment.

Sensing his presence, Shay glanced back at him. “I’m almost finished.”

“I’m in no rush.” And he really wasn’t. He would find any excuse to enjoy every single moment of his first morning with Shay in his home.

He entered the kitchen and placed the envelopes on the counter, out of the way. He noticed the damp towel draped over the back of one of the tall chairs at the counter. Shay had quickly and loosely braided her damp hair to get it out of the way. He gave the end of her braid a playful tug as he passed behind her to reach the coffee pot. “Do you want some coffee?”

“No.”

“I think I have some orange juice in the refrigerator.” He wasn’t ever sure what he had in there, to be honest. Denise kept the place stocked with the things he liked, and he magically never seemed to run out.

“That’s fine.” She returned her attention to the breakfast she was cooking. He glanced at the stove as his coffee sputtered into its cup and watched her spread some of the creamy white béchamel she’d made onto the golden brown ham and cheese sandwiches she had been toasting in the oven. She carefully slipped the pan back into the oven before flipping the eggs she was frying.

Alexei put away the ingredients she had finished using and poured a glass of juice for her. He set the table in the breakfast nook and had just taken his seat when she brought over two plates with piping hot croque-madame. There was a sprinkling of chives on top of each egg. She had decorated each plate with thinly sliced oranges twisted to form figure eights and sliced, fanned strawberries.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m glad that you did because it looks delicious, and I’m starving, but I would have been happy with a bowl of oatmeal.”

“Remember that tomorrow when I slide a bowl of gruel in front of you,” she warned and took her seat.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve eaten watery thin
kasha
for breakfast.” He stabbed his fork into the soft yolk and watched the yellow cream mix with the béchamel. “That’s standard prison fare.”

He was just cutting through his sandwich when he noticed Shay wasn’t moving. He glanced up and frowned at her stricken face. “What is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Alexei. I shouldn’t have made a joke like that.”

“Shay,” he said with a quiet laugh, “it doesn’t bother me to talk about that part of my life.” He paused to reflect. “What I should say is that it doesn’t bother me to talk about that part of my life with you.”

“Why doesn’t it bother you to talk about prison with me?” She seemed genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” he admitted uncomfortably.

Shay popped her egg yolk with the tines of her fork. “Maybe you don’t mind talking to me because you know I won’t judge you. I’m basically the poster child for a dysfunctional family.”

“Maybe,” he agreed quietly. Her mention of dysfunctional families made him think of those scars on her back. Asking her about them in the bedroom or shower had seemed like a bad idea. He didn’t want her to feel attacked or self-conscious about her body. Here in the kitchen, he felt relatively safe asking her about them. “Shay?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“Can we talk about the scars on your back?”

Shay froze. Like a deer caught in the headlights, she panicked right in front of him. She opened her mouth and then shut it quickly. Focusing all of her attention on her breakfast, she stabbed at it with her fork. “No, we can’t.”

“Shay,” he pushed gently, “I’ve told you about my tattoos. The stories behind these,” he gestured to the markings on his left hand, “are surely a thousand times worse than the story about your back.”

“You’re probably right, but it’s
my
story to tell when I’m ready to tell it.”

“And when will that be?”

She dropped her fork. It bounced off her plate with a noisy clatter. Exasperated, she asked, “Seriously, Alexei, what is the big deal? They’re scars. End of story.”

“If it’s not a big deal, you should have no problem telling me how they happened.” Unable to comprehend why she was being so cagey about this, he began to fear something truly horrific had happened to her. Worried he might unknowingly do something to trigger pain or fear, he insisted, “I think I have the right to know about your body.”

“Why would you think that? Because we had sex? You think have ownership over me?” Obviously angered by his remark, she said, “I’m not a car, Alexei. You don’t get a rundown of all my dings and scratches before you buy me.”