Mind Code (Coded Connections Duet #2)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

Amelia

I can’t sleep.

Again.

The digital clock on my nightstand glares at me accusingly, its harsh red numbers reminding me of how late—or early—it is. 2:47 a.m.

Brilliant.

Is it the jet lag still messing with my system, or am I just afraid to be alone?

I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, but my mind refuses to quiet down, racing with thoughts of work and the guys. I could go upstairs, but I resist the urge. I don’t want to let whoever took my work take my home from me too.

It’s my sanctuary, dammit.

And it’s not fair to ask them to sleep at my place so I’m not alone all the time, is it? Still, I remember how bloody amazing it felt having Oliver here. His strong arms around me all night, making me feel safe and protected.

God, I’m so hopelessly in love with him. It’s pathetic.

With all of them.

But I was exhausted then. Maybe that’s the key—tire myself out until I can’t keep my eyes open. With a frustrated sigh, I throw off the covers and change into my workout gear. The building’s gym should be empty at this ungodly hour, perfect for a bit of late-night exercise.

But when I push open the gym door, I freeze in my tracks. There’s someone else here. A man with his back to me, lifting weights. My heart races for a moment before I recognize those unruly black curls.

Misha.

Of course, he’d be here at this hour—the man never sleeps.

I approach him quietly, not wanting to startle him midlift. He’s got headphones in, completely lost in his workout and with music blaring in his ears. I reach out and gently tap his shoulder, bracing myself for his reaction.

Misha jumps, almost dropping the weight on his foot. “Shit,” he exclaims, yanking out his earbuds and whirling around.

“I’m so sorry!” I say, feeling terrible for scaring him. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”

But Misha just laughs, his dark eyes lighting up as he sees me. “What are you doing down here at this hour?”

Before I can formulate a witty response, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me, soft and sweet at first, then with growing intensity that makes my toes curl. When we finally break apart, we’re both a little breathless, and I feel heat rising in my cheeks.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I explain, smiling at him and trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.

Misha grins, giving me that devilishly handsome smile that could melt ice. “Well, want to join me for a late-night workout session?”

I nod, and he helps me set up a workout routine, explaining each exercise with patience and enthusiasm, just like Oliver did. His playful encouragement keeps me going even when my muscles start to protest. I feel a little lighter just being with him, his infectious energy chasing away some of the darkness that’s been plaguing me.

When we finish a particularly grueling set of squats maybe thirty minutes later, Misha looks at me seriously, his jovial expression fading. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Really? What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?”

I sigh, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “I think… I’m afraid to be alone right now. It’s silly. I know I said I wanted to be alone tonight, but I can’t help it.”

“You know you don’t have to be,” he says gently, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “We told you that.”

“I know, but it feels unfair to make you guys stay around all the time,” I admit, biting my lip and avoiding his gaze. “You all have your own lives, your own flat. I can’t expect you to drop everything for me.”

Misha chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Haven’t you realized by now? You are our life . You’re not making us do anything, Bug. If it were up to us, you’d have all of us constantly around, hovering like overprotective mother hens. You’re the one keeping us at arm’s length.”

He’s right. I am the one doing that.

I yawn, the fatigue finally catching up to me after our workout. Misha notices and smiles softly. “Getting tired?”

“A little,” I admit with a shrug, trying to play it cool even as another yawn threatens to escape.

“How about this,” he suggests, his eyes twinkling with affection. “I grab a quick shower at your place, then I sleep in your bed and hold you until you drift off. No funny business, I promise. Sound good?”

The thought chases away some of the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

Besides the no funny business part.

I haven’t stopped thinking about us in the cramped back seat of the Tesla, and I can’t wait to find out what having Misha in a bed would be like.

Back at my apartment, he showers while I get a drink of water, trying not to think too much about the gorgeous man currently naked in my bathroom. When he comes out, hair damp and tousled, and with just a towel slung low on his hips, the only thing I can manage is to stare.

Goddamn.

He steps up to me and pushes my chin up to make me look at him. “Your turn,” he whispers before leaning in for a quick peck. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

I stumble into the bathroom and take the quickest shower in the history of showers, only to come out and realize I don’t have anything to wear with me in here. So I wrap a towel around myself and walk into the dimly lit bedroom, only to find Misha’s bitable, naked ass hanging out of the covers, and he’s breathing deeply already.

Of course, now he’s able to sleep.

Pulling off my glasses and putting them on my nightstand, I decide that since he’s naked, too, pajamas are an unnecessary barrier between us and opt instead to slide into bed as I am, my skin eager for the contact. I nestle back against him, my back to his, and sleep begins to beckon me. Yet, as I drift on the edge of consciousness, Misha turns, his arms encircling me.

“I promised I would be holding you,” he murmurs, a low rumble that stirs something deep within me.

His fingers dance across my arm until they brush the bareness of my breasts, and he freezes, his breath catching. “Fuck, Bug,” he whispers, the word more of a reverent sigh than a curse. “I don’t have any fresh clothes here. What’s your excuse?” In a swift, fluid motion, he pulls me close, his chest a solid wall against my back. “God, you feel so good,” he confesses, his lips brushing my ear, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine. “I love it when there’s not an inch of space between us.”

My head whirls from him, and I love it.

His kisses on my shoulder are tender yet ignite a fire within me when he urges, “Try to turn off your smart, pretty head and sleep.”

No, I don’t want to sleep now.

“Say something nice. I just want to hear you talk.”

He’s always been so skilled with words, and right now, I’m craving the comfort they bring. I need some new ones to obsess over in my head.

“I thought I just did.” He chuckles, the sound a vibration that resonates through both of us.

“More, please,” I insist, unable to mask the neediness in my voice.

He promised he’d be whatever I needed. And right now, I need him to be everything tender and kind and cut through the noise of my fears and wrap me in his words.

“You’re kind and generous. You put people before yourself. Every day, you do a million nice things that make me admire you more and more. The way you were ready to sacrifice everything for your brother. I can’t imagine being so selfless. And I’m so grateful for you.”

His hand roams my body, a possessive caress that leaves a trail of heat in its wake. “Speaking of things I’m grateful for… God , your body. I can’t fucking get close enough.” He punctuates his words by nuzzling into my neck, his breath a scorching brand against my skin. “And let’s not forget how brilliant you are. It’s like you’ve got that magical mix of intelligence and charm that just drives me wild. You’re just… amazing.” He breathes out a laugh. “Mmm. I’m a big fucking fan.”

“I’m a big fan of yours, too,” I whisper, squeezing his forearm.

“I’m glad. Now I’m going to hold you, and you can stay in my arms and relax a little, okay? I’ve got you.” Despite his words, the hardness of his arousal presses against me.

“What’s that?” I tease, pressing back against him.

He groans a sound that’s equal parts frustration and arousal. “You know what that is. I can’t help it when you’re lying naked in my arms. But I told you, no funny business.”

Defiantly, I reach back and encircle his cock, my fingers exploring the firm length of him.

He’s deliciously long.

“You’re so fucking naughty.” He gasps, his hips thrusting reflexively into my hand. “What fucking time is it?” Misha tries to crane his neck to see the clock, but when I tighten my grip and stroke him with more purpose, he lets his head fall back with a moan of surrender. “God, that feels so good… you’re a little temptress, aren’t you?”

His hand covers mine, guiding my movements, his breathing growing more erratic with each stroke. “Give me a kiss while you do that,” he commands in a guttural whisper. I turn to face him, making it easier for our lips to meet in a fervent clash. “My naughty girl,” he breathes out, his words punctuated by the rhythm of my strokes. “Fuck, yes, just like that… give me your other hand.”

He takes my free hand and draws my fingers into his mouth, sucking on them until they glisten with moisture before guiding my hand to his cock. “Use both hands… yes, that’s my girl.”

Why is this so fucking hot?

I have to press my thighs together to still the prickling sensation there while he leans in to kiss me again in a fierce dance of tongues and teeth, and I feel him unraveling with each passing second.

But then he stops me.

“Now it’s my turn to have a little fun with you,” he murmurs, his hand wandering across my breasts, teasing my nipples into hard peaks. He continues his exploration, his fingers tracing a path down my stomach until they reach the heat between my thighs. “Shit, you’re wet.”

His fingers work with skilled precision, coaxing gasps and moans from my lips as he massages my clit with his thumb while pushing two fingers into me. “Put your hands above your head… just like that. Now let me play with you while you close your eyes.”

I do as he says, and he continues playing, exploring, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over me. His lips find mine once more, and as he kisses me, I let go, surrendering to the sensation of being utterly and completely owned by him.

When he pushes a third finger inside me, my eyes flicker open, and I break the kiss with a moan, starting to squirm as Misha’s fingers work their magic.

“You think that’s hot?” Misha whispers, low and husky.

He’s seemingly searching my eyes for any sign of discomfort.

But there is none.

It feels full and fucking delicious.

When I nod, almost begging for him to continue, the new intensity in his gaze sets my skin ablaze. There’s something almost feral in the way he looks at me, like he’s barely holding onto his control.

“Yes? God, I love it when you nod. Nod again for me.” His words are a command, one that I’m all too eager to obey.

A flush creeps up my neck when I nod, the heat of it matching the fire he’s stoking between my thighs.

“Yeah, I think it’s fucking hot, too,” he says, a grin spreading over his lips, the kind of grin that promises all sorts of wicked delights. “Shh, don’t tell anyone.” He silences my giggle with a kiss, then murmurs, “Turn around for me.”

I don’t hesitate and turn on my side, then he pulls me closer by the hips, his grip firm yet gentle. His hands on me feel like a brand, marking me as his in this moment.

“Now, I’m going to cuddle fuck you till we come or you fall asleep. I don’t care how long it takes. Is that okay?” he rumbles against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I nod, the movement a silent affirmation of my desire for him, for this.

Please, fuck me.

I reach behind me and grab his cock, teasing him against my opening and clit, relishing the way his breath hitches at my touch. It’s a powerful feeling, knowing that I can affect him so deeply, so immediately, just like he does to me.

Misha’s groans turn desperate when I don’t let him glide inside me, only up and down my slit.

“Amelia. Please. ” I giggle at how desperate he starts to sound, the power I hold over him intoxicating. “Please, Bug,” he pleads, a sultry rasp in my ear. “I’ve been such a good boy. Don’t I deserve a reward?” I’m teetering on the edge, caught between the desire to draw out his torment and the need to feel him inside me. “You’re such a tease, please let me fuck you.” I guide the head of his cock to my entrance, letting him feel just how ready I am for him. “Let me fuck you. Please.” His lips trail along the side of my neck, placing soft, worshipful kisses up to my jaw. His cock glides up and down my slit, the sensation of him rubbing against my clit making my toes curl. “I’ve been so good to you, and you’re so mean to me. ”

“I like how it feels,” I confess, the admission slipping from my lips in a breathy whisper.

“Oh, yeah?” Misha squeezes my hips. “I’ll make you a deal. You put me inside you, and I’ll play with your clit. How does that sound?”

It sounds like a deal.

Eager for him, I align the head of his cock with my entrance and sink back onto his length, both of us groaning in unison at the exquisite sensation. It’s like coming home, a feeling of completeness that I can’t quite put into words.

Misha takes it slow, pushing inside only to slowly retreat while playing with my clit as promised. His thrusts grow increasingly harder, a tantalizing escalation.

Yes.

“I can’t help it, I wanna do that slow little cuddle fuck thing, but you make me wanna fuck you hard,” he confesses, his voice strained with the effort of holding back as he thrusts into me.

“God, you’re so deep.” I gasp, grabbing his forearm, the sensation of fullness bordering on too much, yet somehow still not enough.

“Push that fine ass back against me, just like that,” Misha encourages, his words thick with lust as I do what he says. “Shit, I love it when you wiggle like that.”

I wiggle some more, my movements eliciting a guttural moan from him, his grip on me tightening as he struggles to maintain his rhythm.

“You’re driving me crazy. That feels so good,” he murmurs, his words a tangible caress against the skin of my neck. “I don’t have the words for how you feel.” He circles my clit with expert precision, the kind of skill that only comes from knowing someone’s body. Misha fucks me steadily, each thrust sending me spiraling closer to the edge, but he’s panting himself. “I wanna come with you, tell me when. I’m so damn close.”

The tension is coiling within me, a tight spring just waiting to release but not quite yet. “I need more,” I demand, the words spilling out somewhere between a plea and a command.

“Take your time, I can manage.” He laughs, the sound rich with desire as he squeezes my nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through me.

Finally, I feel my climax building with a force that’s about to crash over me. “I’m going to come,” I warn him, the words barely audible over the sound of our bodies moving together.

“That’s my girl, come on my cock,” Misha urges in a harsh whisper in my ear.

His words are the final push I need, and as I shatter around him, he follows me into the abyss.

The aftershocks of our shared climax gradually ebb away, leaving us both sated and breathless. I pull Misha’s arms around me and cling to him. He’s panting softly against my neck, his hot breath a welcome tickle against my sweat-slicked skin. My limbs feel like jelly, the lingering pulses of pleasure making it impossible for me to move.

“God, I love you,” he whispers huskily in my ear, his lips brushing against the shell in a way that makes me shiver as he pulls out of me. He begins to trail gentle kisses along my shoulder. “So many places to kiss…” he murmurs, turning me so I’m lying on my back. He leans over me, pressing his lips to my collarbone. “I want to kiss every inch of you…”

I laugh weakly, my fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. “You might run out of time… it’s a lot of inches.”

His laughter vibrates through us, and I feel the rumble in my chest where it’s pressed flush against his. “Challenge accepted,” he retorts with mock seriousness.

“Careful now,” I tease, feeling more lighthearted than I have in days. “You’re making promises you might not be able to keep.”

He grins unrepentantly, placing another kiss on the curve of my breast before giving my nipple a teasing flick with his tongue. “With you? I’ll find the time.”

Misha’s kisses become softer, more languid. He explores my body with a sense of reverence that I’ve come to cherish, his lips following a path down my sternum, across the plane of my stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into my navel and eliciting a squeal of laughter.

“Ticklish?” he inquires, feigning innocence as he blows a raspberry on the sensitive skin.

“Stop it, you nutter!” I squeak, trying to squirm away, but he pins me down with ease, his strong hands splayed across my hips.

“Mmm, I like it when you’re splayed out like a feast just for me,” he growls out playfully, his dark gaze sweeping over my exposed skin with unbridled appreciation.

The playfulness fades, replaced by a look of tenderness that takes my breath away. Misha brushes a strand of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear in a gesture so achingly sweet that my heart stutters in response.

“I’ve got you, Bug,” he says softly, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. “You’re safe with me. Always.”

My throat tightens with emotion at his words. It’s not just about sex—it’s about the connection, the intimacy, the way Misha looks at me as if I’m the only girl in the world.

“I know,” I whisper back. “I trust you.”

And I feel it in my bones.

I really do.

“I trust you too.” He smiles a smile that seems to light up the room with its brilliance. “I’m going to get us something to clean up with, and then I want to hold you until you fall asleep, okay? We can sleep another hour or so before we have to get to work.”

I nod, too exhausted and content to form words. Misha carefully extricates himself from the tangle of our limbs and rises from the bed. I watch him with sleepy eyes, admiring the blurry view as he walks toward the en suite bathroom. His perfect ass is on full display, and despite the languor that seeps into my bones, I can’t help but appreciate the sight.

My eyelids begin to droop, and I feel myself sinking into the mattress, cocooned in a cloud of post-coital bliss.

By the time Misha returns with a warm, damp cloth and a tender smile, I’m already on the cusp of sleep. He wipes me clean, then kisses my stomach, hip, and inside of my thigh before disposing of the cloth and climbing back into bed.

He gathers me in his arms, and I snuggle against him, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart—a lullaby more powerful than any drug. “I love you,” I murmur drowsily.

His arms tighten around me, and he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I love you too. Sleep now and know that you’re cherished more than anything in this world.”

With that assurance, I finally allow the pull of sleep to take me, and in this perfect moment, I find a peace that I’ve spent years searching for yet never truly grasped until now.