Page 43 of Nikolai

"Oh, God." I moan. I've never felt anything this good. Not even when I touch myself does it feel anything like Nikolai's.

"That's it, Malyshka. Ride my hand. Take yourself there."

At his command, I grind down on his hand. My core tightens, and my center flutters. "Nikolai," I cry when the pleasure becomes too much."

"Let go, Leah."

The second my name rolls off Nikolai's tongue, my vision fills with white flashes of light. And just as my orgasm crashes through me, Nikolai's lips are on mine.

Minutes later, I am still coming down from my post-orgasmic high, when I barely register Nikolai standing from the sofa with me in his arms and climbing the stairs to his room where he lays me down on his bed. The last thing I remember before sleep takes me is having his scent surround me as the crisp, cool sheets touch my heated skin.

The soundof a murmured voice wakes me from sleep. I open my eyes to see the bedroom cased in a warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the room. The space in the bed beside me is empty, and the sheet crumpled, letting me know I haven't been alone long. Sitting up, I find Nikolai standing at his floor to ceiling window with his back to me, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. I take the time to appraise his muscular thighs, tight butt, and well-defined back—a tattoo of a massive black and grey dragon, which spans the width of his shoulders.

I'm brought out of my musings when Nikolai's tone to whoever he is talking to on the phone, turns angry. He's speaking in Russian, but from the sound of things, he's not happy. A second later, he takes the phone away from his ear and turns away from the window toward me. His face is hard, but the second his gaze lands on me, his features soften, and he saunters toward the bed. Setting his phone down, he pulls back the sheet and climbs in. Next, he snags me around the waist and hauls me up. I lay my head on his chest. "Is everything okay?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, Malyshka."

The two of us fall quiet as Nikolai begins to run his fingers through my curls. After a few short seconds, he finally speaks. "Starting tomorrow, if you're not with me, I want Maxim taking you wherever you need to go."

At his random statement, I disentangle myself from his hold and sit on my knees, facing him. Nikolai follows suit by leaning his back against the headboard.

"Why? My apartment is close enough to everything in town, I can just walk to work every day, and I'm sure Alba or Sam will give me a ride to the store when needed. At least until my car is fixed or I can save to get a new one."

"First, you won't be fucking walking to work. I plan on you sleeping in my bed every night or vise versa, so I'll be the one taking you to work. And two, there is no need to ask Alba or Sam for a ride because, as I said, if you're not with me, you'll be with Maxim. He is not to leave your side."

An ugly feeling starts to creep up my spine at how adamant Nikolai is about Maxim. Something tells me there is more going on than I know. "Nikolai, why do I suddenly need a bodyguard?" my voice quivers.

"Fuck." Nikolai runs his palm down his face.

"Nikolai," I prompt.

"I have a bad feeling about your accident. I'm cautious until I know for sure your father wasn't involved."

At the mention of my dad, my body locks up, and my heart starts beating rapidly against my chest.

Nikolai reaches for me. "Breathe, Leah."

"Nikolai," I croak. "Is he…did he...?"

"That son of a bitch won't get near you. I'll kill him if he tries."

"How?"

"I have one of my men watching him. I also visited him yesterday."

Nikolai's admission shocks me. "You what!"

"I did some digging into your father. I know the club has been keeping an eye on him, but I wanted to know more. I told my guy to find me everything he could on James Winters. Only digging up shit on James Winters uncovered other things."

I don't miss the way Nikolai's jaw ticks when I ask, "What things?"

"A broken jaw, a fractured wrist, a broken arm, three concussions, stitches."

My nails dig into Nikolai's arm as he ticks off every documented injury I received at my father's hands as tears stream down my face.

"Jesus, baby. What the hell does a seven-year-old girl do to warrant having her jaw broken? Not a Goddamn thing."

"I saw something I wasn't supposed to. Then I opened my mouth about it."

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