Claim Me(Capture Me: Book 3)(23)

“Modern Family it is, then,” I say, turning on the TV and selecting the popular comedy. “Diego should be here any minute, but for now, I think that should hit the spot.”

The show starts playing, and I walk over to the bedroom door and lean against the wall, keeping an eye on the boy while listening for sounds from the bedroom. Everything is quiet in there, and a few minutes later, Diego shows up.

“Watch him carefully,” I tell the guard, lowering my voice to just above a whisper. “It seems we might’ve killed some of his family. I have to talk to Yulia to make sense of it all, but for now, keep an eye on him. The kid wants blood.”

Diego nods, his face set in grim lines, and I know he understands.

Nothing motivates quite like revenge.

I walk them to the door, making sure the boy doesn’t try anything along the way, and then I return to the bedroom, where Goldberg is already packing up his bag.

Yulia is lying on her stomach, stiff and silent, with square bandages marking the insertion sites. The blanket is folded down to her waist, exposing her slim back and the elegant line of her spine. Her face is turned away from me, her hair spread in a tangled blond cloud across the sheets, and my chest aches as I see the scrapes and bruises marring her smooth skin.

Maybe I should’ve waited with the trackers after all.

No. Shaking off the uncharacteristic self-doubt, I look at the doctor. “Did it go okay?” I ask, and Goldberg nods, picking up his bag.

“Everything went fine,” he says, heading for the door. “The bleeding should stop in about an hour, and you can replace the bandages with regular Band-Aids at that point if you want. If you keep the insertion points clean, there won’t be any scarring.”

“Good. Thank you.” I approach the bed and sit down, waiting for the doctor to leave. As soon as I hear the front door close, I extend my hand and run my fingers over Yulia’s naked back, avoiding the bruised areas. Her skin is cool and silky, and I feel her quiver under my touch. Instantly, my body comes to life, my hunger for her awakening with savage fury.

Cursing silently, I withdraw my hand, curling it into a fist to keep myself from reaching for her again. I can’t take her yet. She’s traumatized and hurt, too weak to handle my pent-up desire.

I have to let her heal.

To my surprise, Yulia rolls over onto her back and stretches her arms above her head—a move that draws my gaze to the soft, round globes of her breasts. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?” she murmurs, and I see her nipples hardening, as if from arousal.

My cock turns into a metal spike in my jeans. I know her nipples are most likely reacting to the cool air from the AC, but my mouth still waters with the urge to suck them, to lick the pale flesh around the pink aureolas and sink my teeth into the soft underside of her breasts. Only the black-and-blue marks on her face and stomach keep me from grabbing her then and there.

With effort, I tear my gaze away from her breasts. “No,” I say hoarsely. I know I should get up, get away from the temptation, but I can’t move. I want her, and not just for sex. The longing that consumes me emanates from deep within my being. We’ve only been apart for two weeks, but it felt like years. “I’m not going to touch you today.”

Yulia’s cracked lips twist, her eyes unnaturally bright, and I notice wet streaks on her cheeks. “No? I’m no longer pretty enough for you?” There’s a dark taunt in her voice, and I realize that she’s punishing me for the trackers, that this is her way of reclaiming control.

Even knowing that, I rise to her bait. “You’re gorgeous, and you fucking know it,” I say harshly. If tormenting me like this makes Yulia feel better, I’ll allow it—if only to alleviate the uncomfortable prickling of guilt the sight of her tears generates.

I should’ve fucking waited.

“So do it. Fuck me,” Yulia says, kicking off the rest of her blanket. She’s naked underneath—I undressed and bathed her when we arrived an hour ago—and my body tightens at the sight of her flat stomach and slim, shapely legs that seem to go on forever. And between those legs… Heat rises in me, my breathing turning fast and heavy as I look at the glistening pink folds between her thighs.

“I’m not touching you,” I repeat, but even to my own ears, my words lack conviction. She’d been unconscious when I bathed her, and even that simple act had brought me to painful arousal.

Yulia fully awake and taunting me with her body is like a defenseless mouse parading in front of a starved cat.

“Why not?” She arches her back, thrusting her breasts upward in a porn star pose, and I bite back a tortured groan as her nipples draw my attention once more. “Isn’t this why you chased me down? So you could fuck me?”

She’s right, except fucking is only part of it now. I want what we had before and more.

I want all of her.

Giving in to the vicious hunger riding me, I climb onto the bed and straddle her on all fours, caging her with my body without touching her. Her eyes widen, and I catch a glimmer of fear in her gaze.

She didn’t expect me to take her up on her offer.

A dark smile forms on my lips. Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “Yes, beautiful. I brought you here to fuck you—and I will. Soon. For now, we’re going to do something different.”

A shudder runs through her as my breath warms her neck, and she lets out a quiet moan as I kiss the tender spot under her ear, then nibble on her delicate earlobe. Her hair tickles my face, and her peach-like fragrance fills my nostrils, making me burn with the need to possess her, to slide down my zipper and thrust inside her, sheathing myself in her soft, wet heat.

The urge is almost unbearable, but I make myself move down her body, ignoring the insistent throbbing of my cock. I lick her neck, kiss her collarbone, and suck each erect nipple before tasting her flat, trembling belly. When my face is parallel to the V between her thighs, I bend my head and inhale deeply, breathing in her warm female scent. Yulia tenses, her thighs tightening to restrict my access to her sex, and I gently but firmly grasp her inner thighs, pulling her legs wide apart.

“Relax, I won’t hurt you,” I murmur, looking up at her. Her blue eyes are wide and uncertain, the porn-star act gone without a trace. I can sense her growing anxiety, and the image of Kirill attacking her flashes through my mind, cooling my lust by a small degree.

For all her bravado, my beautiful spy is nowhere near ready to play these games.

Keeping my gaze locked on her face, I press my mouth to her pussy, tasting her slick pink flesh. Yulia quivers, her slender hands knotting into fists at her sides, and I nibble on the soft folds around her clit, teasing and licking the sensitive area before swiping my tongue along her slit. She moans, closing her eyes, and I taste her growing arousal as her inner muscles clench helplessly under my tongue.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s it…” I breathe in her intoxicating scent again, then close my lips around her clit and lave the underside of it with my tongue before sucking on it with strong, pulling motions. She cries out, her hips lifting off the bed, and I feel the tension in her rising. My own body responds with a fresh surge of blood to my cock, and my balls tighten as I feel her contractions begin.

I lick her until she’s limp and panting in the aftermath of her orgasm, and then I finally give in to my own need. Rising up on my knees, I unzip my jeans and close my fist around my swollen cock.

A few hard jerks of my hand, and I’m coming too, my seed splattering all over her white belly and breasts. It’s not a particularly satisfying release—I’d much rather be inside her—but the sight of my cum on her body is erotic in its own way.

On some primitive level, it marks her as my property.

Yulia doesn’t move or speak as I climb off the bed and walk to the bathroom. She just watches me, her eyes half-closed, and when I return with a warm, wet towel a minute later, she remains silent, her expression unreadable as I clean her off.

When I’m done, I undress and climb into bed next to her. Carefully, I draw her against me, trying not to put pressure on her injuries as I curve my body around hers from the back. My ribs ache, but I ignore the nagging pain. It feels too good to have her in my arms, to hold her and know that she’s mine.

Yulia is stiff at first, but after a few moments, I feel the tension in her muscles slowly ebbing. In another minute, her breathing evens out, and I know healing sleep has claimed her again.

My own eyelids grow heavy, and I brush my lips across her temple before closing my eyes. “Good night, beautiful,” I whisper, euphoric contentment spreading through me as she snuggles closer with a sleepy mumble.

I have my Yulia back, and I’m never losing her again.





III





The Caretaker





29





Lucas



The sun is impossibly bright in the sky as I walk toward Esguerra’s office, the humid air making me sweat despite the early hour. Still, I feel lighter than I have in weeks, the knowledge that Yulia is sleeping in my bed filling me with an incandescent mix of satisfaction and relief.

I found her. I have her.

Even the knowledge that Kirill escaped is not enough to spoil my mood this morning. I left Diego to watch over sleeping Yulia so I could start the process of hunting Kirill, but I feel infinitely calmer after eight hours of sleep.