Vik (Shot Callers 2)

And abruptly, all was right in my world.

After all, being in the arms of the right person could never feel wrong.

Call it a lifetime of growth and love and trust, but immediately, my body submitted to his, soft and compliant.

And then he spoke, his voice rough and sleep-worn. “Where do you think you’re going?”

My smile was small, secret, and when he moved my hair to the side and put his lips to the spot just behind my ear, it felt like it used to feel. Like we were us again. And for a single moment, my heart soared.

I never even tried to fight it. I loved Viktor.

I loved him more than my need to protect myself. I loved him more than any of his issues. I loved him in a way that caused my heart and head to riot. To the point of foolishness. But I didn’t care.

He owned me, heart and soul.

Every road I walked led to him. He was my only path.

Too engrossed by the feel of him, words failed me, and he rumbled, “I was just thinking of you, and now you’re here. Looks like dreams really do come true.”

Oh, come on. Now that was just corny.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, feeling his warm breath at my nape as he snuffled out a quiet laugh.

Wiggling around, I heard his low groan as my bottom brushed against the hardness of his growing erection, and I realized a second too late that he was naked. Deliciously nude.

It shouldn’t have surprised me. Vik hated restrictive clothing.

Restrictive being all of them.

I twisted in his hold, and then I was facing him. Vik blinked through one drowsy eye, the other refusing to open as he continued to fight off sleep. His hands went to my hips, then slid back and lower still until one rested on the curve of my ass, the other unabashedly kneading one round cheek.

My lips parted, and a breathy sigh escaped me. Lord, he made me feel things. The urge to wrap my legs around him was strong, but I fought it with everything I had.

Instead, I took in his face with my attentive gaze, and my brow dipped at his busted lip. I clicked my tongue, and without a second thought, I put tender fingers to the wound and spoke softly, “You’re hurt. Why are you always hurt?”

He hauled me close until our bodies touched. “I’m always hurting somewhere, baby. My head, my heart—” My small breasts pressed to his solid chest, he ground his hips into me, and my lips parted at the delicious feeling of his hard length against my stomach. “—my cock. It’s all relative.”

But I focused on the broken skin at his mouth. “That looks sore.”

“It is. Will you kiss it better?” He leaned in, pursuing my mouth with his pouting lips. “I’ll bet you taste like cherries, or berries, or something sweet.”

I squirmed, put a soft hand to his mouth, and chuckled. “Let me up.”

His brows drew to the middle, and he lifted one large hand to capture my small one. I tried not to writhe, but the feeling of his lips as he brought my knuckle to them and nibbled was almost too much. My nipples beaded. He made a deep, satisfied sound in his chest. “Now, why would I do that, when you feel so good right where you are?”

I don’t know why I said what I said, but I suddenly felt so heartsore that I murmured solemnly, “The last time you were in my bed, you said you missed me.” Vik stilled, motionless, seeming to know more was coming. My tone was butter-soft. The words barely perceptible. “I should have told you I missed you too. Because I do. All the time. I’m sick with it.”

He blinked, his eyes flashing as they roamed my face. I saw a plethora of emotions as his breathing turned heavy. His rumbling voice was unusually soft and did not match the intensity of his gaze. “Gimme that mouth.”

Was it a good idea?

Probably not.

Did I care?

My nether region said no.

I lowered my lashes and teased, “One kiss and you’ll let me up?”

His lusty gaze locked me in place. “If after that kiss you wanna be let up,” he said, sobering, his hooded eyes sweeping my face, “I’m not doing it right.”

Sweet Lord. That sounded like a promise.

My kitty purred.

For a moment, all we could do was stare into each other’s eyes. In his, I saw longing. I wondered what he saw in mine.

Love? Despair? Grief?

Perhaps all three?

The pull of him was too great. I couldn’t help but sway in his direction. And when he met me partway and my lips throbbed with the need to be kissed, I stopped breathing all together. He licked his lips, lifted his hand, and carefully ran his thumb over my pulsing lips in the tender way he always had.