Turbulent Sea (Drake Sisters 6)

It took a moment, with the blood roaring in his ears and pounding in his groin, for him to realize she was really in distress. Ilya froze, still buried deep in her body, thick and hard and feeling the silken walls encasing his shaft. She wanted him. Her body couldn't lie, yet her distress was genuine. The more she struggled, the more her body tightened around his, until he wanted to give himself up to the loss of control and just drive into her over and over until he was a part of her, imprinted forever deep inside of her, until she recognized fully that they belonged together and only he could give her the things she craved.

He forced his body to remain absolutely still. "Lubov moya, what is it?" His voice was gentle, as tender as he could manage when he was at the height of his need. "Tell me what's wrong and we'll fix it."

"Look at me--at us. This isn't love. I'm tied to the bed and letting you do anything you want--begging you to take me. I don't want to be like this. I don't. I want love, Ilya, not just sex. This is sex." She wasn't making sense, the words tumbling over one another, her chest heaving as she sobbed, pushing her hard nipples into the heavy muscles of his chest. She'd promised herself--promised, but not only was she under him, she was pleading with him for more.

Ilya immediately braced himself over her with one arm and reached above her head to her wrists with the other. "You're not tied up, Joley. Stop struggling, laskovaya moya, and let me get this. It's just looped over your wrists. I was tired last night and afraid you'd open those stitches." He slipped the scarf from her wrists and took each to his mouth, pressing kisses there. "See? You're fine. I would never do anything to you that you didn't want."

She forced herself to be honest with him. She owed him that when she could feel his body stretching hers to the limit, when he was pulsing deep inside of her, breathing hard to control himself, when she had not only encouraged him, but begged him to take her.

"That's the trouble, Ilya. I do want this. I want anything I can get from you. I'm terrified of losing myself, of losing who I am and what I stand for. I barely know you, and I'm willing to let you do anything to my body. That's not love. It's obsession with sex. I swore I'd never do this, that when I was with someone it would be because he loved me and I loved him. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know this is my fault. I can't pretend it's yours. I wanted you--I still do." How could she possibly deny that, when her body was rippling around his, demanding he continue? "I think I'm going insane."

Ilya framed her face and brushed kisses over her, catching her tears on his tongue. "You aren't insane, Joley. This was meant. My mark is on you. What do you think that means? Do you think it would work on just anyone? You were born for me. Me alone. To love, to cherish, to protect, to bring you pleasure. I was born for you for those same reasons."

She stopped thrashing and fighting beneath him, lying still, tears running down her face, but she was listening to him and there was hope in her dark eyes.

"Great sex is about total surrender, Joley," he whispered and shifted his body just a little, sending a streak of fire scorching the sensitive knot of nerves deep inside of her. He pressed deeper. "It's giving yourself wholly to another person." He kissed the corner of her mouth, a soft brush of his lips that made her heart want to melt. "In order to do that, you have to truly trust your partner, and trust is a priceless gift."

Joley couldn't close her eyes and savor the sensations rushing through her body because it was too important to watch his face--his eyes, those amazing blue eyes as deep and as turbulent as the sea she loved so much. He moved slow and easy, sending flames dancing over her, but leaving her needing more. The slow buildup was nearly worse than the wild, passionate tango he played for her.

His mouth moved against hers. A soft enticement. "Do you know what I believe love is? It's the same. It's total surrender--giving yourself to your partner, putting their needs and desires above your own and trusting them..." He nuzzled her throat. "Trusting that person, Joley, to do the same for you. Isn't that what we're doing here? Tell me, lubov moya, because that's what I thought we were doing--loving one another."

His voice was pure sin, whispering over her body, sliding past every fear, every guard, and wrapping her heart in warmth. She wanted desperately to believe him, but...

"Tell me you do not feel love in my touch, Joley," he continued and bent to brush her throat with his mouth. "Tell me this doesn't feel like love to you."

He pulled back, almost leaving her body, and she wanted to sob for his return. When he surged deep in a fast, hard stroke, he took her breath, sent her stomach flipping and the heated muscles in her sheath melting into a pool of need.

"You don't know me, Ilya. How can you love me?"

The small, forlorn note in her voice tore at his heart. "I've been in your mind every night for nearly a year. We've talked for hours, all night sometimes. I know everything I need to know about you to know I love you. And I can learn the rest, because I'm going to have a lifetime for learning."

His mouth settled on her, a long, slow, almost lazy kiss, while his body began a rhythm similar to his stroking tongue. He kissed her thoroughly, with all the tenderness a man as rough as Ilya could manage. When he lifted his head, he braced himself over her.

"Put your arms around me, Joley. Want me as much as I want you."

Her body clenched around his, tightened and gripped, holding him to her as her stomach muscles bunched and her breasts ached. "You know I want you."

He shook his head. "Not sex, Joley. Want me. The man. Your man. Want to spend your life with me, want to be my best friend, my lover, my everything. Put your arms around me and give yourself to me."

She stared up into his blue eyes. The pupils were wide and dark with a need that tugged at her beyond anything she'd ever known. What did she know about him? She'd lived around Jonas too long not to recognize the signs of a man with a code.

She'd spent too much time in Ilya's mind, piecing together all the memories and seeing glimpses of colors behind the darkness of his aura. He had to be working undercover, and that kind of a life molded and shaped men into something altogether different.

She searched his eyes for a long time, looking for truth. "How do I know what's real about you and what isn't?"

"I can't answer that, Joley."

She moistened her lips and tried to be strong, when everything in her ached to hold him close, to comfort him. "You have to give me something, Ilya. You're asking me to trust you with more than just me. I love my family. Several are in law enforcement. I would be trusting you with their lives as well. I need more than my body's absolute trust in you."

He was silent a long time, his body still, but locked with hers. "Joley, you've been around Jonas long enough to suspect what I do. I've spent my entire life training for or living undercover."

"If you lived that long undercover as a hit man, as someone who runs in violent circles, how do you know who you are?" The thought was terrifying, because when she looked at his aura and listened to the strands of his song, there was more blood and death, more darkness than light, and it was so blended, so mixed together, she couldn't tell what the truth was and what the lie was.

He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. "Do I know what's real and what isn't? Not anymore. I live the way I have to in order to survive every minute of every day. Do I do abhorrent things? Yes. Do they bother me? No, not anymore. The lines blurred a long time ago. You are the only thing real in my life--the only thing for absolute certain. You. If you don't save me, I'm lost. I've known that from the moment I heard your voice. I didn't realize I was drowning in the blood until your voice came over the radio and everything in me went to pieces."

If you don't save me, I'm lost. She heard the echo of those words in her mind. His voice was low, unemotional, but so soft the sound stroked over her skin and wrapped her heart in velvet. There was a plea--yet it was the stark truth. Ilya wasn't making a bid for sympathy, he lived his life in black and white and shades of gray.

"I can only give you who I am, wha

tever that is, Joley, but I can promise you'll never regret it. I'll never betray you. I'll always put you and your needs before my own." He kissed the tip of her nose, slid his tongue over the curve of her lower lip. "Even when you don't know what you want, like right this moment." His hands shifted, cupped her breast, thumbs rasping over her nipples until she wanted to cry out to him for more.

Joley slipped her arms around him and arched her body closer. "Then I'm glad my music touched you, Ilya."

He bent his head to the twin peaks, lapping and nuzzling with his hot mouth, teeth tugging and hands claiming. Each strong pull of his mouth sent a wash of liquid fire sizzling over his thickened cock. "I want to hear your screams again, Joley. I need to hear them and feel your body milking me dry." He braced himself over her.

She swallowed hard as he began to move again, long, slow strokes that sent sizzling fire streaking up and down her body. She gasped and clung to him, trying to be careful not to jar his injured arm.

"Your music saved my life, Joley. It changed my world."

"You've changed mine," she admitted. "I've never felt like you make me feel." Beautiful. Wanted. Needed. Sexy. More than sexy. And so hungry for him. She loved his body--the hard, defined muscles, his enormous strength, the things he could do just by looking at her, let alone touching her.

Every time his body thrust into hers, she felt stretched and full. She was burning alive, from the inside out. He began to pump into her hard and fast, building the aching need until she felt almost desperate for release. She reached for it--that perfect explosion of her body--but he pulled back, slipping her legs through his arms so he held her open for him and gave his body better leverage.

"Ilya." She gasped his name in a plea. "What are you doing?" Because she needed him, needed release from the terrible tension he'd built so fast.

"Marry me, Joley."

His face could have been carved out of stone, a vision of carnal lust, but his eyes--his eyes were alive with love--unmistakable love. Her body pulsed around his; she couldn't stop the involuntary writhing under him, desperate for the release only he could provide.

"Marry you?" She echoed the word almost blankly. Shocked. It was the last thing she'd expected.

"Say it. Promise me. I need to know you love me the way I am."

Her body shook, trembled with the aching tension. She could barely think straight. "Are you sure, Ilya? Are you really sure that's what you want, because marriage for me is forever."

He surged into her, another hard and fast stroke that forced a small scream from her sensitized body. He stretched her out on a rack of tormenting pleasure as he changed his pace, pushing through her tight, swollen muscles with excruciating slowness.

"Forever then, because there is no divorce for a woman with that mark on her palm."

She arched her hips, trying to force his penetration. "Yes then. Yes."

He lost what ragged control he had, plunging into her over and over again, his rhythm fast and hard and utterly devastating. He buried the long, full length of himself completely, driving deep with each stroke into her tight, silken channel. She screamed as every muscle in her body tightened, as her very bones seemed to contract, as every cell and nerve focused on one spot. His hips thrust harder, his arms locking her in place. Her muscles convulsed around him, rippling up and outward, sending shock waves of pleasure rocketing through her. Her body clamped down hard on his, taking him with her so that his hoarse cries echoed around hers.

Ilya collapsed over her, laying his head over her shoulder, fighting for air for a few moments, and then he rolled, taking her with him so that she blanketed his body with hers.

Joley lay as limp as a rag doll over the top of him, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I'm exhausted."

"How's your head feeling?"

"I forgot about it. It must be better."

"No nagging headache."

She laughed, she couldn't help it. "That's funny." She kissed his chest and throat, nibbled on his chin and then lay back down again, as if that was all the strength she could muster.

"Why's that funny?"

Joley lifted her head again and studied his face. "Poor baby, you really don't know, do you? Supposedly men say women use headaches as an excuse not to have sex. I personally don't know any women who do that, but it's a standard joke."

"I've never had that happen."

She bit him.

"Ouch!"

His hand came down on her buttocks, but it didn't have the desired effect. Joley just wiggled and gave him a sassy grin. "Feed me. I'm starving. I haven't had anything to eat for days. We can call for takeout or something."

"The reason to have a house is to have a kitchen."

She wrinkled her nose and slowly sat up, straddling him. The movement caused a delicious aftershock. She waited for it to subside before sliding off of him. "I thought a house was for privacy and lots of places to make love."

"I see your point. Your idea is better than mine."

"Only if there's no food in the kitchen. I really am starving."

"Go take a shower and I'll whip something up."

She sat on the edge of the bed. "You mean it? You can cook?"

"You'll see."

Joley didn't wait to hear any more. She was really hungry, and a shower would help to revive her. Now that he'd mentioned her head, it was hurting a little, but she'd never admit it, not when he might toss her on the floor, or against the wall, or maybe the kitchen table. It all sounded good to her.

It didn't take long to shower and find every bruise and sore spot on her body from the explosion, but none of it seemed to matter. She was happy. She was with Ilya and he said he loved her. He made her feel loved. He made her feel so beautiful and sexy she didn't mind wrapping herself in a robe and finding her way to the kitchen.

He'd pulled on a pair of jeans. They were only partially buttoned, leaving his body, so defined with muscle, for her to enjoy. She sank into a chair at the table, drew her knees up and watched him as he moved around the kitchen with sure, purposeful movements. This side of him fascinated her.

"Ilya Prakenskii, all domestic."

"One of us has to be," he pointed out, flicking her a small grin.

The flash of his white teeth sent a small, thrilling somersault sliding through her stomach. She loved making him happy. And he was happy. His melody was joyful, bright colors shining occasionally through that dark shield he always wore. She saw it for what it was now, a cover to keep him safe.

"Fine. I'll admit I'm not great in the kitchen. Hannah loves to cook and bake, and she totally rocks at it. I can make tea though."

"Tea?" His eyebrow shot up. "We're going to have sons, Joley, lots of them. I don't think tea is going to be a big hit on the menu."

She rubbed her chin on her knees and eyed him warily. "Now it's sons. Are you obsessed with having children or something? Because this isn't the first time you've brought the subject up. And I don't like the sound of that word 'lots.' "

He stirred the spaghetti sauce. "In the interests of disclosure, I'm just warning you so you can't ever say you weren't prepared."

She put on her fiercest scowl. "I've disclosed to you that I haven't a clue how to take care of a baby. I'm an artist. I sing onstage and travel around the world. I can hold them, but the entire baby thing is just plain scary. Do you have any idea what it takes to be responsible for a child? I made myself read parenting books, and no way am I trying that."

"I haven't a clue what it takes, Joley. I'll be relying solely on you and your experience." He blew on a spoonful of sauce and tasted it.

"What experience, you crazy man? I have no experience."

He added oregano. "Sure you do. You were raised in a family. You have good parents, a pattern to follow, and we'll just go by what they did."

"You make it sound so easy. Do you really want children, Ilya? Is it that important to you?" She sighed. "If it is, give me a few years and I'll give it a try."  He glanced at her over his shoulder, and his smile had turned into a knowing smirk. "A few years? You think we should wait a few years?"

She shrugged. "We haven't even got to the marriage part. We're at the getting to know you part."

He stirred the sauce again, and she could see from his profile that he was still smiling. "We're past the getting to know you part. That was this past year. Now we're at the we'd better get married fast part."

Joley wrinkled her nose. "You aren't making any sense. We don't want to rush into anything. We have plenty of time to work everything out."

"You said you'd marry me."

She nodded, biting down on her lip. She had said it--and she'd meant it--but that had been in the heat of the moment. Now she wanted to be a little more cautious. "I did say I would, but I was thinking of a long engagement while you got to know my family and maybe figured out what kind of work you wanted to do. Because you're not going to be working undercover anymore, right? Not with a wife and family. You have a lot to think about." That sounded very well thought out and intelligent.

"As long as you're touring and making appearances, I'll be working your security."

He flashed one look at her--the kind that sent tremors down her spine and made her all too aware of the dangerous man she'd committed herself to. He didn't really argue. She'd realized that about him. He would try a short discussion and then he did things his way, expecting everyone to fall in line with his orders. Joley didn't mind that in the bedroom, but he wasn't going to just dictate the rest of her life to her.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might worry about you, Ilya? That I don't want to take chances with your life? Most of the time I need security for normal reasons, just to get through a crowd, but once in a while there's a real threat. The last person I want in jeopardy is you."

He turned and faced her, looking so incredibly sexy he took her breath away.

"I have no experience with anyone wanting to look out for me. Not even as a small boy." He flashed a small grin at her. "This will be interesting, learning how best to react when you talk this way to me."