Nikolai: The Complete Collection

23. Justine

23

JUSTINE

G roaning, I roll onto my side. My temples are throbbing so much that they feel like they will crack open my skull at any second. This ache isn’t from being tired. It’s more an external pain than an internal one.

Incapable of protesting the pounding in my head, I try to figure out where I am. The softness caressing my curves indicates I am in my bed, but a unique smell lingering in the air is misplacing my conception. I flare my nostrils and inhale deeply, eager to identify the smell.

I jackknife into a half-seated position when I realize it’s a manly scent heightening my senses. My sudden movement makes a rush of nausea surge into my stomach, intensifying the thump in my head.

Clutching my temples, I circle the ache, numbing the urge to be sick. Once the desire to vomit has lessened, I flutter open my eyes. My heart rate kicks up a gear when I discover the cause of the intoxicating smell. A tattooed arm is splayed across my bare thigh, which is barely covered by the thin bed sheet.

Crap!

With my heart rammed in my throat, my eyes drift to the warmth heating my side. I don’t need to see Nikolai’s face to know it’s him lying beside me. There’s no mistaking his unique manly scent, and don’t even get me started on his impenetrable aura.

My intuition is proven spot on when my eyes connect with a sleeping Nikolai. His eyes are snapped shut, and his lips are slightly ajar. With his usually unruly spikes flattened, wisps of dark hair curl around his sculptured cheeks. His jaw is relaxed, relinquishing the strain his face regularly holds, and his lips are minus his infamous pulse-quickening snarl.

My eyes’ eager trek over the veins pulsating through his cut body stop when I reach the curve of his backside. His ass is barely peeking out of the bed sheet draped across his lower back, but it won’t stop me from assuring you it’s a spectacular visual.

Scarcely breathing, I scoot down the mattress so I can categorize Nikolai’s gorgeous face more diligently. It’s so surreal seeing him like this. He looks like an entirely different man when he’s sleeping. He appears almost angelic instead of the evil villain dictated by his mafia prince title.

As I watch him in silence, tiny snippets of our exchanges trickle into my hazy mind. Our grind-up on my front door, our rendezvous in the bathroom, and the abrupt ending of our shared meal roll through my mind like a movie. My memory is so vivid it feels like I am reliving each moment. There’s just one memory still hazy—how we ended up in the same bed.

My trip down memory lane ends when awareness of being watched washes over me. Nikolai’s eyes are open and glancing straight at me. Unlike me, shock at discovering me lying next to him doesn’t register on his face. He doesn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by our casual sleeping arrangement. Actually, come to think of it, he looks smitten, like his greatest wish has finally been granted.

“ Доброе утро , Justine,” he greets me, his words groggy, proving he wasn’t just resting his eyes.

“It is morning?” I ask, shocked I slept so long. I haven’t slept more than five hours a night in the past four years. “That’s why it’s so quiet. Everyone is passed out.”

A massive set of lines groove in Nikolai’s forehead as he brushes a rogue strand of hair from my face. Air hisses out of my mouth when his fingertips briefly skim my right temple.

“ Мне жаль ,” he apologizes. “Dok assures it’s a superficial bump from your fall. There are no internal injuries.”

My eyes expand to their full width when the cause for my bumped noggin filters through my brain. “Sergei.” Bile burns the base of my throat.

My eyes missile to Nikolai’s when he snarls, “Sergei should be grateful he’s still breathing.” He cracks his knuckles before swinging his legs off the bed. “If you hadn’t fainted, he wouldn’t be so lucky.”

My worry for Sergei is pushed aside when his naked backside is thrust into my peripheral vision. I should be disgusted my libido is overruling my morally astute brain, but I’m not. Nikolai announced that Sergei is alive, leaving me free to ogle him like a shameful nymph. I haven’t seen a backside this glorious since… ever!

I only remove my eyes from his ass when a pair of low-riding jeans covers the pussy-clenching sight. I sigh, mortified at my lack of professionalism. When he spins around to face me, all thoughts vanish. The pulse of my pussy grows wilder as my eyes zoom in on the V muscle the low rise of his jeans doesn’t have a chance in hell of hiding. My god, his body is delicious. I doubt a million years would leave me tired of eyeballing it.

Noticing my brazen stare, Nikolai asks, “Do you look at all your clients like you do me, Justine?” My name rolls off his tongue in a throaty, rumbling purr.

Unable to utter a suitable reply, I shake my head.

The anger on his face slides away as an impish grin tugs at his lips. “Good. My hit list just halved.”

I align my eyes with his when I fail to hear any humor in his reply. The reason for his lack of candor becomes apparent when our gazes collide. He had no intention of me taking his threat as facetious. He meant every word he said.

“What happened last night? Why can’t I remember anything?”

Although my recollection of the events leading to my awakening remains hazy, I’m more using it to distract me from thoughts I shouldn’t be having.

My clenched insides loosen when Nikolai throws a shirt over his head. “After you fainted, Dok checked you over. He guaranteed you weren’t concussed but suggested we give you something to take the edge off.” He smiles wickedly, causing my clit to ache. “I gave you something.”

“You gave me something?” I quote through raised brows, my words breathless. “What exactly did you give me that knocked me out for over twelve hours?”

Nikolai audaciously winks. “You weren’t knocked out. You were alert.” His brows waggle as his smile grows. “Not overly lucid, but very much alert.”

His tone is playful, but all I hear is a heap of sexual ambiguity.

Like a freight train smacking into me, reality dawns. “Oh my god! Did we…” –I cough to clear my throat— “have sexual relations?”

He chuckles. I feel its hearty vibration all the way to my thrumming clit. “It’s called sex, Ангел ,” he jests, his voice carrying through me like liquid ecstasy. “Just don’t call it making love, as every man knows love is just lust misspelled.”

I roll my eyes, acting like the need in my pussy didn’t grow with every wicked word he spoke.

“Did we sleep together? As in, have… sex ?” My rephrased question isn’t any more convincing than my first childish one.

“Are you sore?” Nikolai’s voice is throatier than I’d anticipated.

“No. But what does that have to do with anything?”

A squeal tumbles from my lips when he hooks my ankle and drags me down the mattress. My girly squeal switches to a shallow pant when he prowls up my body. Other than tugging the bed sheet into my neck to cover my scars, I don’t cite an objection to his panther-like crawl. What woman in her right mind would? I have the man who fiercely protected me like I’m worth my weight in gold, glancing into my eyes as if I am his savior. I’d be mad to act ungrateful.

His pussy-pulsating trek stops when every inch of his body is pressed against mine. Although there’s a bed sheet between us, my body acts as if there isn’t. I can feel every inch of him—every mouth-watering inch. Our bodies align perfectly. Our eyes, chest, and crotch are in direct symmetry. It’s as if we were made for each other. Two broken pieces molded to create one.

A wildfire burns through my womb when Nikolai rocks his hips forward, dragging his erect cock along the soaked seam of my panties. I pant, fighting with all my might not to scream the wicked thoughts streaming through my mind. It’s a torturous effort.

“Are you sore?” he repeats, his deep voice strained with lust.

My reply snags in my throat when he thrusts his hips forward again, his second grind more controlled than his first. I moan softly, adoring the surge of excitement dashing through my body. My brain screams for me to withdraw from his embrace, but I cannot stop it. With the heat of his flesh dominating every inch of my body, my mind is blank, stuck in a lust-filled trance.

My pussy grows wetter when he grazes his teeth over my bottom lip. His bite isn’t overly painful. It’s more intoxicating than anything, even more so when he sucks my lip into his mouth to soothe the sting of his touch.

When he once again grinds against me, my lips part, allowing his tongue free passage to slide between them. I moan an indescribable grunt when the delicious flavor of his mouth engulfs my taste buds. His mouth is tangy and sweet and oh-so-manly.

Growling at my husky response, he drags his tongue along the ridges of my mouth before dueling it with mine. “Ah, fuck, woman, I didn’t possibly think you could get any tastier,” he groans into my mouth before kissing the living hell out of me.

My god—he is a man who knows how to kiss. The controlled and precise strokes of his tongue and the soft tenderness of his lips have my heart swelling as quickly as my panties dampen.

Mindless with need, I meet the strokes of Nikolai’s tongue lick for lick. I give it my all, awarding his kiss with equal vigor. Our kiss puts me off balance—a snake isn’t just luring me. I’m being wholly consumed by one.

By the time he pulls back, my jaw is aching and my panties are soaked.

As if appreciative of my breathlessness, his lips tug into a predatory smirk. “What drug could make you forget that?” he asks with his eyes arrested on mine.

“None,” I reply without just consideration.

Our kiss was so unforgettable a million years won’t erase it from my memory.

“Then there’s your answer,” he murmurs, his voice exposing I’m not the only one left winded by our kiss. He is as taken aback as I am.

As his heavy-hooded gaze drifts between my eyes and my mouth, he says, “If a kiss can make you forget your own name, imagine what a night of fucking will do.”

My eyes dance between his, confused as to why his comment made me equally euphoric and panicked. I’ve never had such a conflicting array of emotions pummeling into me. I want to forget I witnessed him stabbing a man in an anger-fueled rage like he does it every day. I want to forget the cruel words we’ve exchanged the past two days. But more than anything, I want to forget he is my client, and no matter how sparking our attraction is, nothing can come of it. For a moment, I want to be the old Justine—the one before my life was upended. I want to be me.

I still when Nikolai runs his thumb over the bite marks on my shoulder. “You ran the gauntlet instead of running to Dimitri’s bed.” His tone is informative, ensuring I can’t mistake his comment for a question. “He’s the reason you’re marked.”

With my heart in my throat, I gingerly shake my head. “Dimitri isn’t to blame for my scars. He let me leave when I turned down his proposal. It was his father who chose my exit.”

He curses under his breath as the tightness in his jaw firms. When his eyes connect with mine, they flare with molten heat. If the wrath of his anger was directed at me, I’d be a puddle of mush. That’s how volatile the rage in his eyes is.

“You have my word nothing like that will ever happen to you again, Justine. I’ll slit the throat of any man who dares look at you sideways. Family or not.”

My mouth falls open. I’m shocked and incredibly aroused by his protectiveness. “Thank you.”

It feels like the wrong thing to say, but when he smiles, I’m glad I said it.

It strikes me how big his hands are when he uses his thumb to wipe away a rogue tear descending my cheek. They’re so large they nearly swamp my face. After clearing the small handful of tears my bursting eyes could not contain, he trails his thumb over my lips. The saltiness of my tears moistens my mouth, which is still parched from our kiss.

“I want you, Ангел ,” he confesses as his eyes bounce between my lips and my wide gaze. “I’ve never met a woman like you. You’re smart, beautiful, and you don’t scare easily. I’m not gonna lie. I’m fascinated as fuck to see how you thrive when you regain your confidence.”

His words floor me. I’ve never felt this wanted before. But his words don’t stop me from asking, “Is that why you’re doing this? To help me regain my confidence?”

I groan greedily when he throws his hips forward, dragging his erection along my aching sex. “Nah. This is all for me. I’m so worked up I’ll soon fucking explode. That’s why I’m pinning you to your bed, stroking you with my cock. It’s got nothing to do with building your confidence, and everything to do with me and my insatiable desire to have a part of you wrapped around my cock.”

I don’t reply to the slight dishonesty in his words. I can’t. Lust is clutching my throat so firmly, stealing my ability to talk.

The desire making my pussy a sticky mess triples when Nikolai slants his head to the side to align our mouths. I calm my breathing and moisten my lips, my mind as determined as my body. I’m done fighting a desire bigger than Ben Hur.

Just before his lips touch mine, the shrill of a cell phone ringing breaks the silence between us, stopping his pursuit in an instant.