Free Avenge: #3 Romanian Mob Chronicles by Kaye Blue Page A

entire body. I lifted my hand tentatively, laid it against his biceps, right at the place where fabric gave way to skin. I closed my fingers slightly, testing the hardness of his muscle covered with silky-soft skin.
    When he pressed his lips against my cheek, I took it as a sign of encouragement and squeezed tighter, but then I trailed my fingers along his arm, tracing the pattern of ink that I had only seen in fleeting glimpses.
    I knew what those markings were, knew what they meant, but in this moment, I couldn’t think of it—it didn’t matter. All that mattered was him, touching him, having him touch me.
    I dropped my hand, looked up at him, hoping to regain my equilibrium, hoping to remember what I was doing, but all I saw there was desire, the feelings that were reflecting what I felt, and I was powerless against them.
    He slid his lips against my cheek, moved lower to again cover my mouth, and when he tightened his arms around my waist, I lifted my legs, instinct guiding me.
    He settled me so that I was centered over his erection, and the sensation of Anton against me so intimately was my undoing.
    I tightened my legs, pulling as close as I could possibly be, and then I met his eyes again, saw the question there.
    I nodded and watched him as he processed my response to the unasked question, saw the moment when he too was lost.
    And then he was moving, the compactness of my apartment leaving only a few options. He reached my small bedroom in seconds, paused long enough to look around before refocusing his gaze on me.
    There was a fleeting moment of embarrassment when I thought about what he was seeing. I had never been one for frills, and in this place they had seemed even less essential. So all there was was a cheap, prefab bedroom suite, the full-size bed covered with a duvet and sheet set that were sold in a package deal.
    I’d never cared for such things, but now I wished I had, wished that I was in a beautiful, fantasy place, and not here, not among the belongings of Lily Holan, a nurse with a grudge.
    But then again, I wasn’t that, not now, something I was reminded of when Anton slipped his hand under my shirt. His fingers were rough, and the sensation of them against me coaxed out a broken moan, the little fissures that his calloused fingertips were creating intense beyond anything I had ever felt.
    His ascent up my body was slow, unhurried, but I felt the slight tremor in his hands, looked up to meet his eyes and again saw the desire there. My curtains were slightly parted, and the sun hit Anton where he stood, lighting his always-dark eyes and his face, giving him an almost supernatural appearance.
    I decided then that I would think of this in that way. It was supernatural, divorced from the real world, a moment in time, unexpected but one that I would allow myself to enjoy, no matter how wrong it might be.
    I turned my lips up in a small smile, one that he returned. The combination was breathtaking, made my heart pound even harder, and took Anton from grim handsomeness to almost ethereal beauty.
    And, at least for this moment, he was mine.
    I reached for the hem of his shirt, my own hand trembling, and pulled it up slowly, eyes glued to his. I broke his gaze when my fingers touched bare skin, and I kept my eyes riveted there as I revealed more of him.
    Tight abdominal muscles sprinkled with dark hair. Strong, heavy-muscled pecs displayed his strength.
    I let go of the shirt when it was up around his shoulders, and he took over, pulling it the rest of the way off.
    He was beautiful.
    Not a word I would have associated with him, but it was the only thing I could think as I watched him, bare-chested, in front of me. He was beautiful, each ridge of defined muscle perfection. And so was the ink that covered him.
    I traced my fingers along the markings, moving slowly over each of the letters, then the pictures, the flowing script or etched images seeming to be a part of him that had always been there.
    Even