The Fixer (Chicago Bratva 2)

I toss her over my shoulder and carry her back into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with my heel.

“Fuck no,” I repeat.

“What?” she asks, breathless, as I drop her onto her butt on the bed. “You said they could look.”

“I changed my fucking mind,” I growl. I scrub a hand over my face, pacing at the foot of the bed. She’s dewy and flushed and beautiful. Like a woman about to be ravished.

By me.

She opens those bee-stung lips to say something, but it dies on her breath when I grasp her ankles and yank her legs down until they form a wide V around my waist. I switch my grip to her wrists, pinning them down beside her head as I grind my erection in the notch between her legs.

“That policy is predicated on me not having blue fucking balls,” I snarl.

Her eyes widen, and she goes very still like she knows I’m a goddamn feral animal about to strike. About to claim my prey in a brutal manner.

I thrust against her, making her draw in a sharp breath. “And on me being at your side.”

“Got it,” she whispers, breathless.

“Yeah?” I’m still pissed—unquenched lust making my brain short-circuit.

“Yes.” She licks her pouty lips. “Sorry.”

I relax, half-sorry, myself, that I cowed her enough to apologize. I don’t like seeing her diminished. I don’t mind the push-pull between us—I like her fire. I don’t even mind her games—to a certain extent.

I brush my lips across hers, then bite the lower one and drag it between my teeth until it emerges with a pop.

“This problem between us could be easily solved,” I tell her. When her eyes search mine, I nudge between her legs again with my hardened cock.

Her legs tighten around my waist as she inhales. “Nyet.” She turns her face away, and I instantly pull back.

I honor a woman’s no.

“Your loss, caxapok.” I offer my hand to help her off the bed. “Just be careful. At some point, my leash will snap.”

When she takes my hand, I sense a tremble in her fingers. The blush on her cheeks enthralls me, but I act the part of the gentleman, pulling her to her feet and leaving her to get dressed as I hit the shower to rub one out for the second time this morning.

“You’re killing me, printsessa,” I call out from the bathroom as I step under the spray.

“That’s my plan,” she sing-songs back.

Chapter 7

Sasha

Never leave an attention-hungry mafia princess home unattended.

I smile to myself as I whip out Maxim’s credit card at O’hare airport and board the first plane to L.A.

Since my phone hasn’t started ringing, I’ll bet Maxim hasn’t even figured out I’m gone yet.

Guess who’s back in the States, bitches? I group text Ashley, Kayla, and Sheri, my three former housemates and besties from college. I’m on my way to your place. Party tonight?

OMG!!! Sheri is the first to respond. Hell to the yes! Where are you now?

About to board a plane for L.A. I text back.

From RUSSIA??!

No, Chicago. Be there in a couple of hours.

Kayla is the next to reply with a string of alcohol emojis and, EEEEEEK! I get off at six. Can’t wait to see you!

Then Ashley: Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? I am so down with partying tonight. Can’t wait!!!!! I’m home now. Her text is followed by five lines of happy faces, cocktail drinks and party hat emojis.

There are several more additions and confirmations and party girl .gifs. I sit back and smile. My four years at USC were the best time in my life, and the place I made lasting friendships with women as nutty as I am. Getting to see them again is one good thing about my new situation. And honestly? I’m thrilled to be back in the U.S.—Moscow suffocated me.

I have no doubt Maxim will catch up to me before the night is through. Even if he didn’t put a tracer in my phone, which I’m certain he has, I just used his credit card to buy my ticket.

But that’s the point. To be a pain in his ass and make him chase. It’s what I used to do to the bodyguards and spies my dad sent to watch over me. I intend to drive the man crazy. After all, he should earn the millions he just took control of, shouldn’t he?

Still, I nibble my lower lip, hoping I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew. Maxim has a way of getting under my guard that throws me off-balance. Which, if I’m truly honest, is the real reason I’m running off.

It was getting too intense back there.

For both of us.

After the coming out in my bra incident yesterday, Maxim made himself scarce, leaving me with nothing to do but watch television with his housemates.

He didn’t come back until dinner time when he took me out to a nearby cafe for dinner, and he disappeared again when we got back. Well, that’s not exactly true. I couldn’t keep my eyes open because the time change caught up to me, and I went to bed early, leaving him in the living room.