Fall(Romanian Mob Chronicles Book 2)(30)

“You know I do,” I said, turning my face to his and then nipping at his bottom lip.

He stilled completely then, his eyes glued to mine. “Then say it.”

At the last word, he circled my opening again, ran his fingers between my lips before he reached my clit again. He touched it gently, which only drove me insane, made me want more.

“Sorin!”

“Say it, Esther,” he said, voice stern, serious.

I was panting now, strung-out, needy for climax. And that part of my mind that wasn’t preoccupied with my desire and frustration burned with a question, one that came out of its own volition.

“Why?” I said on a choked-out breath. “Why do you want me to say it?”

I lowered my lids but lifted them and again met his eyes. They were deep, dark, filled with something I couldn’t place.

“Say it,” he whispered yet again, his own voice urgent now.

A moment passed, then another as my heart boomed and my lungs squeezed tight. But my mind was clear. “I’m yours, Sorin. Your girl.”

He gave no reaction but instead curved two fingers and pushed them inside me hard, pausing only for the briefest moment before pulling them back and pushing them inside again and again and again. And when he swiped his thumb over my clit, the combination of his rough yet gentle touch and the firm thrust of his fingers sent me over the edge.

I cried out, long and low, not bothering to hide the pleasure I felt, not sure I would have been able to even if I’d wanted.

“Was that so hard?” he said when I looked into his eyes again.

“Whatever,” I replied with a smile as I reached for his belt.





* * *



Esther



Later, I lay in his arms, both of us quiet, an unspoken yet undeniable connection between us. And not one to leave well enough alone, I spoke into the darkness.

“So you do what Vasile does?”

“And what does he do?” Sorin replied.

“I’m serious, Sorin,” I said.

And I was.

I didn’t quite know what all had happened today, what the words he’d bade me speak meant, but I knew that I could no longer live under the illusion that whatever Sorin was, what he did, was unimportant.

He sat up, put one hand on the side of my head, and caressed my cheek. “I am being serious. What I do, what he does, is not open for discussion. Not ever.”

“I don’t appreciate being left in the dark,” I said, annoyance sparking in my chest.

“I don’t care. This is how it must be. Accept it or don’t. Your choice.”

The tension that gripped my stomach, the seconds that passed by after he spoke gave the moment even more weight. I was making a choice, crossing a line I instinctively knew couldn’t be uncrossed. And if I did cross that line, chose him, I was becoming a willing participant in his life and what it entailed, things I would probably never fully understand.

But I’d have him.

I nodded and snuggled against his chest.





Fifteen





Sorin



“I want to hold her sometime tonight, Sorin,” Esther said.

I smiled and then kissed Maria’s tiny head before I turned and handed the baby back to Fawn.

“You can come back tomorrow,” I said. “Let’s go.”

She pouted and then moved over to Fawn and kissed the baby. Then she said, “Bye, Fawn. Bye, Vasile.”

“See you later, Esther,” Fawn said, and Vasile nodded as we left.

“So that was painless,” she said as we got into the car.

“Yeah,” I replied.

When we’d arrived together, neither had said a word, though I hadn’t missed the look that passed between them. But that brief look had been the only moment of any tension. The rest of the evening had gone by easy, calm, as if there was nothing strange about Esther and me together, not bickering.

We felt like a family.

I grabbed her hand and glanced at her quickly.

“I could get used to that,” she said, squeezing my hand.

“What?” I said.

“That smile.”

I squeezed her hand a little tighter but stayed silent.

“You can’t come home with me today,” she said as we approached her house.

“Why not?”

“I have work tomorrow,” she said.

“I told you to quit.”

“And I told you, multiple times, I won’t.”

“Still don’t trust me,” I said.

“It’s not about trust. This is a record for me. And, I don’t know, it makes me kinda proud of myself,” I said.

“It doesn’t look good, my girl working at a hardware store.”

“I haven’t decided if I like that. ‘My girl.’ Shouldn’t I have something more official-sounding?” she said as I parked.