His Queen of Clubs (Vegas Underground 6)

No. No fucking way. I did not come all this way to be humiliated by Vlad’s new lover.

I stumble back.

“No.” Vlad starts running toward me.

My brain has already shut off. I’m in flight or fight mode, I guess, because like a hunted prey animal, I turn and run.

“Alessia! Stop. Wait!”

If I had any doubt at all about his recovery from surgery, it disappears when he overtakes me in about five seconds flat.

He catches me around my waist and lifts my feet from the ground. “Wait. Alessia. She’s the nanny. For Lara—the baby. She’s the nanny. Don’t run.”

The fight goes out of me and I go limp in his arms. He lowers my feet to the ground and turns me to face him, still holding me up with an arm banded around my waist. “There’s no other woman, zaika.” He brushes my hair back, then cradles my face with both hands. “There will never be anyone but you.” He’s kissing me before I can answer. Like he can’t wait to taste me. Like we’re long lost lovers, dying to be in each other’s arms.

Which I guess we are.

My knees go weak as he tastes me, slanting his mouth over mine with more tenderness than he ever showed me before. He takes his time, too. Exploring my lips thoroughly before licking into them, his tongue stroking, probing.

It’s the kiss of the century.

“You came,” he says with wonder, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah, well—” I’m breathless. Still upset over the nanny, even though it’s been explained. “Mika said you hadn’t healed. But clearly he lied.”

Vlad touches the scar on his abdomen, his face growing sober. “I haven’t healed,” he says.

I get dizzy, realizing he’s not talking about the surgery.

“Have you?”

I shake my head.

He kisses me again, like a question. Then he picks me up to straddle his waist and walks toward the house. Behind him, I see the nanny hurrying after us, carrying his baby.

He has a baby.

And he took responsibility for her.

My chest fills with warmth. I wrap my arms around his neck.

After a few moments, I realize he’s going to carry me the whole way back. “You can put me down.” I laugh. “I’m still recovering, but I don’t get so out of breath now. Thanks to you—thanks to your kidney.”

“I’m not putting you down.” There’s a stubborn edge to his voice.

I smile.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you. At Victor’s.” He looks around me to see where he’s going.

I weave my fingers into his hair. “I know. I got your letter. Thank you.”

Vlad

I’ve never been a religious man. I’ve never put much stock in words like holy or sacred. But as I lay my beautiful bride out on our bed, it’s with a reverence beyond any spiritual realm.

And she lets me.

I undress her slowly, piece by piece, and she watches, lashes down, belly fluttering, lips parted.

She came here of her own free will.

That, to me, is a miracle worthy of bent knees.

She’s not submitting to my will this time, she’s offering herself up. It’s different. And special and a moment I will never, ever forget.

“What is this?” She’s wearing some kind of medical device that made her cringe and blush when I uncovered it.

“Insulin pump. I’ll take it off. I hate it.”

I tip my head, watching how she takes it off, noting everything so I can help her with it next time. “Seems like a good idea.”

She shrugs. “I’d rather have you monitoring me.”

And that’s when I do drop to my knees. Only on the bed, but still. The words inspire nothing short of a spiritual awakening.

I kiss up her inner thighs, flick my tongue across the flat plane of her belly. I take one pebbled nipple into my mouth. She arches up, moaning softly.

She’s a goddess.

The divine feminine.

She is woman the way I never saw females before. Pure and potent and life-giving.

“You came,” I murmur in awe again. I still can’t believe this miracle.

“I’m here,” she affirms.

I cup her mons as I move to the other nipple. She’s wet and slick and ready for me.

“Beautiful, beautiful woman,” I chant. It’s a holy rite. Me, worshipping her body.

I scoot back down and push her knees open, feast between her legs. Her juices dribble onto my tongue as I trace her inner lips, suck her swollen clit.

“Tell me something, zaika,” I murmur, cupping her ass with both hands to hold her in place as I lick more aggressively.

She cries out, pumps her hips. “What is it, Vlad?”

“Are you here to stay? Or is this just a visit?” I don’t know why I ask now. Why I would ruin such a beautiful moment.

But I have to know. Will this be my last time with her? Or is this our new beginning?

“Not to stay,” she pants and my heart sinks, even though I suspected that would be her answer.