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Lost in Moscow's Secret 48
Sweat ran rivulets down my back, my long hair was damp and stuck to my skin, and my muscles embodied jelly, moldable and pliant as Ronan put me through every sexual position known to mankind. We would have gone through three condoms by now—if we were using them at least. Not that I didn’t try to encourage it.“Wait,” I’d breathed nearly two hours ago before Ronan pushed inside of me. “Condom.” “You have an IUD.”“Condoms are for more than birth control.”“I’ve already been inside you bare. If I have something, you do too.” “That’s comforting.”He chuckled roughly. “I’m clean, kotyonok.” Then he filled me so perfectly my eyes rolled back, and my brain shut down.Now, I was on my back with my legs over his shoulders while he fucked me so hard I’d feel him next week. My moans trembled with every thrust, my nails digging into his thick thighs. He was less human and more like D’yavol when he fucked. He seemed to have a never-ending stamina and a criminal sort of purpose, as if he was
Lost in Moscow's Secret 49
MILAMY BREATH WAS STILL RAGGED, Ronan having just rolled off me. The simple action left me cold inside, and to distract myself from the heavy feeling, I needed to either leave or strike up conversation. I chose the latter.“What did you tell me you did for work that night when I asked?”“I went into detail about my chimney sweep business,” he answered lazily. I blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”“Nyet.” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Never thought a woman would throw herself at me after I told her I made minimumwage.”A blush rose to my already flushed cheeks—even now, while lying naked beside D’yavol. “I didn’t hear you.”“I know that now. You were too busy working up the courage to maul me.” “I did not maul you.” I frowned. “That’s such an aggressive word.”He laughed. “You were beyond sweet all night. I didn’t expect at the end of it you’d practically beg me to fuck you in a public hallway.” Then he added thoughtfully, “I almost did.”That was why he pushed me
Lost in Moscow's Secret 50
MILA THE SUN SHINED, CASTING A bright sheen behind my closed eyes, and rolled me in the soft warmth of heaven. Though the soreness between my thighs was the embodiment of Satan’s haremitself.I opened my eyes to find myself alone in D’yavol’s bed. I stared at the ceiling while the memory of yesterday returned with a vengeance.I didn’t think Ronan noticed my mini-meltdown in the shower—or maybe he did, and that was why he took the initiative to wash me himself. My hair, my body . . . but not my conscience.My mind worked backward, the memory hitting rewind from the moment I came, my head thrown back, beneath the spray of the shower. Each thrust had slid me up the shower wall, my thighs wrapped around his hips. Heavy breaths and Russian words. Stars on his shoulders. Stars in my eyes.I’d dropped to my feet, spun around, and rose to my tiptoes. He slid inside me from behind. My forehead rolled against the wall, my fingers sliding down the stone. His hand on my throat; his lips at
Lost in Moscow's Secret 51
RONANALBERT HELD THE BANKER BY his collar and punched him in the face. Blood and spittle flew through the air. Leaning back in my desk chair, my eyes caught and narrowed on a blonde hair on my shirt sleeve. My first instinct was to pluck the strand off as if it carried a flesh-eating strain of bacteria. The hair was yellow. And these days, the color made my chest feel ridiculously tight.The sensation was karma.I knew it would catch up with me. And here it was, making me feel awkward as fuck with a single strand of Mila’s hair. She clung to me when she wasn’t even present. Her summery smell, the feel of her legs wrapped around me, the sound of her laugh . . . All of it had burrowed beneath my skin deeper than claws.Albert’s fist flew. The banker’s jawbone cracked, and a tooth skidded across my desk.Karma could have given me something easier to deal with—like an impending atom bomb or a nuclear disaster. But no, the comeuppance karma had dealt me was feelings. What a cunt.Albert k
Lost in Moscow's Secret 52
RONANATAP TO THE CHEEK pulled me out of a deep sleep.I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who woke me. She smelled like strawberries. I’d never been a fan of the fruit before her, but now, the scent made me hungry. And hard. Her hair caressed my bare chest. I was about to wrap a few strands around my fist and pull her mouth to mine, though I didn’t get the chance.She slapped me hard.“What the fuck, Mila?” I growled, waking fully.I was lying on the drawing room couch, a throbbing arm hanging off the side. Awkwardly, I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten here. When I’d said I would be busy with Alexei’s shit today, I meant it. The last thing I remembered was dealing with one of my train cars that derailed, crashed, and then exploded when I arrived. Little white pills had fallen fromthe sky like snow.With a distressed noise, Mila shoved at my chest. I clenched my teeth. Apparently, I wasn’t waking to her sweet side tonight. She tried to push away fromme, but I grabbed her wrist.“I c
Lost in Moscow's Secret 53
MILAIWAS BURNING IN THE flames of hell. It was the only thing that explained the heat consuming me from the inside out. Though hell wasn’t supposed to be so inviting . . . or smell like a Russian forest . . . or fit as well as Armani.It did contain the faint scent of blood, however.I blinked against the sun streaming in through the window. The bright morning light was only shadowed by Ronan’s body—which was, of course, the embodiment of hellfire itself.My face was pressed against his chest, and I was pretty sure some dried priest’s blood had rubbed off on my cheek. That should be the last straw to this messed up tête-à-tête, but somehow, I knew the deceased had been a really shitty priest.One of my legs was intertwined with Ronan’s as I slowly suffocated beneath his heavy thigh, the deadweight of his armaround me, and all the heat. It was bliss.I’d always disliked my height, though that was before I realized if I was any shorter, I’d never be able to feel so many inches of this
Lost in Moscow's Secret 54
MILA“HOW DID YOU KNOW?” I asked Ronan, who walked away from me, the lines of his back as tense as granite. He knew I was asking about my mother and that my papa murdered her practically in front of my eyes.“I don’t know anything,” was all he said before going into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him.I stared at his absence and realized he didn’t want me to know the truth. He was trying to protect my view of my father. He knew how much my papa meant to me, and while I had no doubt Ronan was going through with his revenge, he still didn’t want to mar the vision I had of my father.My papa killed my mother.He callously shot her in the same house I was in.My chest held an ache so sharp, the pain searched for holes to spread through. It was hard to fathom how the father I knew and loved could do that—though, in the back of my mind, I must have always known. The knowledge warped everything I thought I understood. Thinking about it sent a harsh throb through my head.
Lost in Moscow's Secret 55
MILAYULIA STOPPED ME IN THE doorway of my bedroom, giving me a derisive perusal from my head to my toes.“We have guests,” she said sternly. “You must do something with your”—she flicked a hand at my chest—“bosom.”I looked down at said bosom and saw nothing wrong with it. I was even wearing pants for a change—high-waisted bell bottoms. One would think Yulia would take that as a win. I knew Ronan would.I lifted my gaze to hers. “They’ve been called ‘boobs’for decades, FYI. And considering the fact I was tied to a bed naked the last time we had guests, I find your request a bit hypocritical.”She put her bony hands on her hips. “That was only in guest room. You were not flaunting your bosomaround the house.”Spread-eagled naked for guests to see in the guest room:Not wearing a bra beneath my T-shirt downstairs: Made sense.I sighed. “What would you like me to do with my bosom, Yulia?”“Strap it in a bra,” she said as if it was obvious. “And not some see-through thing only meant to
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