The Darkest Temptation (Made 3)

I chuckled roughly. “I think I’m a bad influence on you.”

Her hand found purchase in my hair, and she grinded down on my face, yelping when I nipped where her hip bone met her inner thigh for being impatient. She sighed when I laved the sore spot with my tongue. Then I moved back to her pussy, sucking each lip into my mouth, releasing them with a light graze of teeth. Her forehead fell to rest on the couch arm with a moan.

“Ronan, I’m going to come.”

“Christ, woman,” I rasped. “I haven’t even started the ABCs.”

“I don’t know what those are, but I do know I don’t want a lesson on the alphabet right now.”

I fought a laugh. “We’ll start with A.”

She groaned in frustration. “Ronan, no—” The rest was cut off by a raspy moan that would wake the dead. And probably Yulia. Even Mila’s carnal noises sounded innocent. Sexy and feminine and perfect. I’d never get them out of my head.

I drew a B on her clit with my tongue before switching to C. Her thighs trembled while she mumbled incoherent moans. She was so close, I sucked her clit hard, and she shattered. I slid my fingers inside her just to feel the hot pulses, only pulling free after they stopped. She panted coming down from her high.

A sudden knock on the door caused Mila to fall off the couch. I couldn’t hold in a chuckle. I knew this gentleman thing wasn’t for me. Seeing Kirill in the doorway, I pulled my briefs over my cock. The doctor stood with his briefcase in hand and a massive look of disappointment.

Apparently, he was with WebMD on this one.

“He made me do it!” Mila blurted from her spot on the floor.

“U neye ovulyatsiya,” I explained. “Ona prakticheski iznasilovala menya.” She’s ovulating. She practically raped me.

Kirill’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “I ty ne mog ot ne’ye otbit’sa.” And you couldn’t fend her off, I see.

I smiled. “Ona sil’neye, chem kazhetsya.” She is stronger than she looks.

Mila got to her feet and aimed a glare at me. “Ovulating? You’re the one who’s always ovulating if you ask me.”

I laughed. She must have not understood the “rape” part of the conversation, or she’d have a lot more to say. My amusement nose-dived when I remembered she was wearing nothing but my thin T-shirt.

My gaze hardened. “Go put on some fucking pants, Mila.”

She ignored me. Straight-up ignored me. If she thought the gunshot wound had made me so passive I wouldn’t carry her ass up those stairs, she was wrong. But her words momentarily paused me.

“Will he be okay?” she asked.

The doctor understood the English but unfortunately couldn’t translate his very superfluous response. “Yesli odin vystrel v ruku ub’yet yego, ya razvedus’ s lyubimoy zhenoy i trakhnu izvestnuyu shlyukhu s vich. Potom pereyedu v sibir’ i budu vyrashchivat’ repu, poka ne umru.”

I laughed loudly.

Mila frowned. “Was that a no?”

“He said if one shot in the arm kills me, he’ll divorce his loving wife and fuck a famous whore with HIV. Then he’ll move to Siberia and farm turnips until he dies.”

She pulled her lip between her teeth to hide a smile. “He thinks you’re immortal too.”

I wanted to return the smile but didn’t. I’d escaped a lot of near-deaths. When I was younger, I thought even death didn’t want me. Now, I thought fighting my way out of the freezing Moskva had awarded me an iron-clad resilience to live.

“Nyet, kotyonok. He’s just seen me much worse than this.”

She swallowed as her eyes slid down my chest, like she was seeing the scars for the first time. Some of the marks were long and thin from contraband blades behind bars. A few of them were round from gunshots—one in my side, one in my back, one now in my arm, and another an inch away from my heart, which was the scar Mila drew her fingers across. The touch made my skin crawl but was warm nonetheless.

“Who?” she asked shakily.

I knew she was asking who shot me—who almost killed me. But something inside me rebelled at telling her the truth. Mila wanted to live in a shiny bubble. A bubble her papa could be redeemed in. A bubble where his character looked a little dark but shiny nonetheless.

She might learn a lot about how he’d done business when he was dead. That he kidnapped girls younger than her and sent them into the sex industry. Her bubble was going to be popped someday, but I couldn’t be the one to do it.