Vik (Shot Callers 2)

My insides felt jumpy when we arrived at the house, and while Ani let herself in through the front door, Vik took my hand and led me to the private entrance to his room at the side of the house. He placed me in front of him, reaching past me to unlock the door, and my heartbeat began to quicken.

I was nervous.

What was my problem? I’d been in the converted basement bedroom many times before.

But you’ve never slept there.

There was an energy vibrating around us, and as I led him down the steps on wobbling feet and into his space, my eyes were immediately drawn to the king-sized bed to the left.

I instantly wondered how it would feel to have his weight on me, to feel his bare skin on mine.

His room had a quietly masculine theme to it. The simple furniture was all dark woods, the sheets of his bed were black silk, and the plush sofa to the right was gunmetal-gray.

Vik placed his keys and piece into the first drawer of the nightstand, then he was in front of me. He looked me over and huffed out a soft breath. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

The unmissable annoyance in his tone had me fighting a smile. My brows rose. “I never half-ass anything. You know that.”

Vik’s eyes lit with amusement. What a pair we were.

Quite suddenly, his expression turned serious, and he reached up to brush his knuckles lightly over my lips. “Do you?”

I closed my eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to the passing caress. “Do I what?”

“Do you belong to me?”

My eyes opened leisurely to find his intense gaze on me, unblinking.

God. He was killing me. A single look and I was slayed.

I could see it in his eyes; there was an urgency worn openly. He needed a response. He needed to hear the words. Ever obliging, I stepped into the warmth of his body and tilted my head up to peer into his eyes. “Forever and always.”

Yes, I was a teenager, but I also knew my own heart. I meant what I said.

There could only be forever with Vik.

One strong arm snaked around me as the other came up to rest at my nape. His fingers tangled in my hair, and I gasped lightly as he gently tugged my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. He moved at a leisurely pace, planting slow, hot kisses under the right side of my jaw.

And I forgot how to breathe.

Vik just had a way about him. The way he touched me made me feel worshipped, revered, as if he were kneeling at the altar of a goddess. Every kiss was a sinner’s prayer. The returning brush of my lips absolved him.

Abruptly, all the sensations flowing through me felt like an assault. My lungs tight, I took in a deep, shaking breath as my hands reached up to grasp the front of his shirt, desperately needing the support.

“Kiss me,” I breathed.

Vik looked at me then in the way I had always wanted him to.

Like a man who wanted a woman more than he wanted his next breath.

He dipped his face and held it close, his lips hovering a hairsbreadth from mine.

And I begged. “Please.”

The word glanced his lips, and he closed the connection. As his lips met mine, I smiled into the kiss, my soul creaking, then cracking before breaking wide open.

My body yielded, and it was a disaster.

One kiss from this man and my heart was no longer mine alone.

His arm tightened around me, pulling me impossibly close as he tilted his head before claiming my mouth deeply, hungrily.

It was one of those moments. Life-altering. I knew I would never be the same.

Feelings of warmth and safety washed over me, the taste of him addictive. These were no sweet kisses. They were pure, raw emotion in physical form.

I may have not been the smartest person, but I knew a kiss from Santino Ricci would pale in comparison. He could never do for me what Viktor Nikulin did. No other man could.

Vik noiselessly spun me and began walking. I permitted myself to be led, and when he lowered me to the bed, I found that what little reservations I had vanished. I didn’t need to wave a white flag to surrender myself to him completely.

His deft hands pulled at my blouse, then tugged at my jeans, leaving me in my black bra and unmatching purple panties. He did not undress himself as carefully as he had me. His black tee was ripped up and over his head, revealing a broad chest and tight stomach. When he kicked his shoes off, they flew in different directions, landing with a dull thud. I felt the insane urge to laugh as he struggled to undo his belt and throw off his jeans. But the moment my eyes raked over his strong, fit body, the mirth I felt was replaced with desire raking over me like licks of fire teasing my skin.