Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,61

care about being right. I’d rather be wrong with Viktor than right without him.

So, in answer, I grab his hand and pull him behind me all the way back upstairs and into the bathroom. I let go only to start the water and let it get warm.

The room quickly starts to fill with steam, and I turn back to him and undo the button of his jeans. Viktor watches my fingers carefully, as though his very life depends upon my next movements. I grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one quick motion. He lifts his arms to help, stretching the strong muscles of his abdomen in a way that makes my mouth water. Then, he pushes his jeans down while I start to take my own jeans off.

I only wiggle my hips once to shimmy out of my jeans before Viktor replaces my hands with his own and hooks his fingers in the waistband. He drops to his knees in front of me in nothing more than his boxers and peels the denim down, his eyes taking in the sight of me, inch by inch until I’m free of the pants, and he can sweep his fingers over my skin.

The room is entirely foggy now. The air is thick and warm, but goose bumps still rise over my arms and legs as Viktor grabs the hem of my shirt and pushes it up my body, his palms sliding over my breasts as he lifts it over my head.

As soon as the shirt is gone, his mouth drops to my neck, and I lose track of what happens to my panties and bra, but I don’t care. Burn them. I’ll never wear undergarments again if the reward is this feeling. This heady, blissed-out warmth that seeps into my head and heart and lungs and makes everything okay.

That is when it hits me that Viktor is a drug.

I’ve made it a point not to become a statistic. To not be another homeless person on drugs who makes money only to spend it on her next fix. I’ve always been proud of keeping myself clean.

Yet, here I am, needing Viktor. Despite the lows he has brought into my life, he has also brought the highest highs. Those highs are what I keep chasing.

Having his body close to me, his protection, his loving gaze and warm smile is what keeps me coming back again and again. It is what makes it hard to leave.

Viktor presses my body against his, and I feel his excitement on my hip as he carries me into the shower. He stands with his back to the spray, blocking me from most of the water. When I look up, water is hitting his back and spraying outward, catching the light so it looks like there is a halo around his head.

The image is almost absurd.

My Viktor is as beautiful as an angel, but he is no angel. He should be swathed in shadows and darkness, not light.

My Viktor.

He dips his head, water washing over his shoulders and down his chest, and I follow the path with my fingers, touching each curve of his abdomen and following the slope of the deep indentation that leads from his hip to …

Viktor moans when I wrap my hand around him, and he tips his head back, letting the water hit him directly in the face.

I laugh and stroke him again, but a second later, I’m the one moaning. Viktor’s hand slides between my thighs and finds my center easily.

I’m wet and ready for him, and he slides a digit into me and then another, pulsing into me with slow, deliberate movements that make it hard for me to focus on what I set out to do. So, I try to match my hand to the speed of his movements, though they feel clumsy as I start to lose fine motor skills.

I lean forward and rest my cheek against Viktor’s strong, damp chest. He kisses my temple, and it feels like the most tender moment I’ve ever experienced in my life.

We are naked, standing in harsh fluorescent lighting, bringing each other pleasure, and I realize I’ve never been this close with anyone in my life. Ever. I’ve never been this vulnerable, this open, this honest.

Tears start to burn in my eyes, and I try to fight them back. I don’t want Viktor to get the wrong idea about them. I don’t want him to think I don’t want