My back is pressed into the dry leaves and soil, cool and fresh next to my heated skin. My bare thighs are wrapped around Dimitri and his weight is so good and heavy on top of me.
I’m shattered. Wrecked. Destroyed and rebuilt. Complete.
I will never be the same.
Dimitri pulls out, slowly, and immediately I’m empty without him inside me, filling me up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m weak from that last orgasm, but I miss the heat of him as a contrast to the earthy ground.
My whole body is broken in the best way, aching from the run, from coming, from being possessed by the man who owns my soul.
He tracked me, hunted me. Whatever happens now—and I’m not entirely sure—I belong to him.
“Zayka,” Dimitri murmurs as he wraps his arms around my torso and pulls me to him before standing.
“You don’t have to carry me,” I protest, but only weakly. Because being held securely is heaven. He’s warm and strong and solid. “I can walk.”
He huffs with laughter. “No.”
“I ran,” I point out as I snake a hand to his neck, feeling the sinew and muscle. His come slides out of me, dribbling down, and I clench my pussy not to stop the mess, but because I crave his seed inside me. I want Dimitri’s baby.
“Perfectly,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But I hunted you down, and now you’re mine.”
That word echoes through me. His? I thought that was just a sexy hunter thing. I didn’t realise he meant it.
I suppose I should have. He has been very clear that I’m his.
“And that means I’m going to take care of you.” He squeezes my side and my thigh where he’s got me cradled in his arms. “It’s my privilege to look after you.”
That’s what sets me off. Emotion wells in my lungs. I never ever want to leave this man.
I’m crying. It’s all blurry as he carries me back to the house. There’s just the rumble of his voice as he walks in and tells Karik that we’ll be down to pet him soon.
I press my face closer into his warm chest and Dimitri croons, “I know, I know.”
But he doesn’t. Surely, he can’t know, because I don’t think I can put into words how much this means to me.
He barges through doors and climbs stairs until eventually there’s humid heat all around us and I peel away from Dimitri’s chest just before he walks right under the shower, both of us clothed. I squeak, but not from discomfort.
For long minutes he holds me in his arms in the warm spray. It must be six feet square, and the water falls like rain.
Silently, he slides me down his body until I’m standing on the tiled floor.
“Why were you crying, zayka?” he asks as he peels the dress over my head.
I consider asking when, or saying that I wasn’t. But one look from Dimitri is truth serum. He hasn’t lied to me, and I’ve been a fool. I thought I was his captive, and I should conform myself to the standards of what other people approve of in a relationship. I thought I should box myself into a boring existence like Howard.
None of those things are right.
He shucks off his jeans and I finally see his cock. All that’s-enormous-I-can’t-believe-it-all-fit-inside-me inches of it. He’s erect, and there’s a vein running down the length. My mouth waters with how much I want to lick him. Take him to the back of my throat and have him use me.
He’s gazing down at my breasts as he runs his hands reverently over my shoulders. Reaching over for shower gel, he moves me around him under the spray and washes me like I’m his cherished toy. It’s long minutes, but my tears stop.
I still haven’t answered his question, because it’s too vast, and the knot of fear remains, but it’s joined by an ache for him. I’m hot again, needy.
He isn’t taking anything for himself right now, except maybe that he’s not let me go—not stopped touching me—since that last chase. It’s as though he’s decided I’m never going to be apart from him and is patiently waiting for me to speak.
My heart beats faster. I drag my gaze up, up, up, to his face.
“Because I love you.”
I whisper the words, but I know he hears. His eyes flash with satisfaction, and he sinks down before me.
“You’re kneeling,” I say stupidly. As though he doesn’t know. But Dimitri Voronov doesn’t have to kneel for anyone. He is the master of all he surveys. The kingpin of Rotherhithe is no servant. He’s a dom.
“I need to be for this.” He taps my foot with a long forefinger to tell me to lift it. I put my hand on his shoulder to keep my balance as he places my foot on his hairy, muscled thigh and washes first it, then the other.
I’ve never felt this cherished. I can’t remember being cared for this way. Maybe I never have been.
“I was serious about the breeding,” he murmurs. Leaning forwards, he presses a kiss to my lower belly, his beard rough on my skin. “I’m going to put a baby in there.”
Excitement shimmies through me, despite my having thought I was done, finished, broken after that chase, and giving up my virginity.
Well. Having my virginity ripped from me in the best way.
There must be a clever response, but all I’m capable of is, “Okay.”
A satisfied smile creeps over his face. He catches my hand, and brings it to his mouth to kiss that instead, and looks up at me.
“I love you. Marry me?”
Before I’ve processed his question, he has slipped a diamond ring onto my finger. It gleams in the water.
“You’re not…” My brain is mush. “You’re a mafia boss. You’re a billionaire. You shouldn’t be on your knees for me.”
His lips twitch, but then the amusement fades. “I will kneel for you. My tzarina.”
This turns me into a pillar of salt, and I immediately melt and flow down the drain, destroyed forever by his sweetness. This man. I don’t disappear. But I do sink to the floor and fall into his arms.
“Yes.” And then I’m crying again, because I’m so lucky, and my body is awash with happy hormones. I’m exhausted and content and safe.
“My stalker,” I say between kisses. “My love.”
“Yours,” he murmurs back. Then he pulls me flush to his wide chest and a hard length pokes into my soft belly. “Come. Let me show you how I love you, my fiancée. I’m going to claim you repeatedly. I need to ensure I’ve bred you.”
But as he lifts me, there’s an urgent knock at the door. And another.
A call of “Boss!”
Then again, and again.
Dimitri ignores it, dries me carefully and carries me to his bed. He lays me down, eyes intent on mine, but I can see that he’s concerned.
“Go, find out what it is, at least.” I don’t want to be the reason his mafia is burnt to the ground or something.
“Thank you.” He kisses me very sweetly, then pads away, totally naked.
“Da,” he barks as he opens the door. There’s quick-fire Russian dialogue, as though his men are too unnerved by this news to bother that their boss’ virility is on glorious show.
His expression is grim as he returns, and his erection has gone.
“What is it?” I ask. But really, I’m looking, fascinated, at how big he is even when he’s not hard.
“They’ve found Howard.”
