Four years ago, Tyler Karras’ quest to avenge his wife’s death led to all out war with San Francisco’s Russian Mafia. With the Bratva’s collapse and its king, Dmitri Chernov, long dead, all Ty wants now is to put it behind him and enjoy a second chance at life with his new bride, Hannah, and the child they’re expecting any day. But Chernov’s heir, Grigory Dmitriev, has returned, bitter and determined. He wants his kingdom back, and he’s more than willing to leverage Ty’s new family to get it.
First he targets Conner, Ty’s brooding nineteen-year-old stepson, manipulating the boy into a vortex of sex, drugs, alcohol, and gambling. Then he turns his sights on Hannah. At eight months pregnant, she’s the ultimate bargaining chip. With both their lives in jeopardy, as well as his unborn child, Ty has little choice but to do as Grigory commands—even if that means assassinating the new leadership resurrecting within the Bratva.
But Tyler swore he’d never kill again. He buried that monster four years ago and means to keep it that way. Grigory, however, makes that vow impossible to keep.
With his new family on the line, Ty will cross further into the dark side than he ever has before, challenging everything he believes about himself, and forcing him to face the ghosts of his past. Only then will Ty discover if he has the strength to do the unspeakable, to sacrifice his last chance at redemption and save the lives of those he loves most.
I stood there, motionless, unsure, and let my eyes flutter shut. God, how many times had I imagined this? I never allowed my mind to go much further, because I knew she could never be mine, and I never wanted to harbor any resentment toward my best friend for possessing something I coveted. But Leo was gone now, and here she was, offering herself up to me. I realized it was just the grief and loneliness, but I felt it, too. I wanted something, someone to take that pain away, so I let my body take over.
I parted my lips and felt Katy’s tongue sweep along them, first the top, then the bottom, before her teeth nipped it, and she sucked my lip between her own. My hands started at her waist and smoothed up her body, along her ribs, and around her back, pulling her in tight. I felt her fingers weave through my hair. She pulled then pushed, indecisive, yet in need. Our breathing grew hectic and heavy, and our hands drifted over body parts they’d never before dared to touch.
She gasped when my hand slipped under her rumpled t-shirt and took hold of her breast. Can’t say I hadn’t ever dreamed of doing that. And just as I had always suspected, it filled my hand perfectly. Katy’s knees nearly buckled when I ran my thumb over her nipple then took it between my fingers, rotating it gently, slowly. She pulled her mouth from mine and let her head loll back, the perfect opening to explore her neck with my mouth. She drew into my body, allowing herself to feel and be overwhelmed, yet succumbing to her sorrow at the same time, and sobbing into my shoulder. She clawed at my jacket and tore it from my body then pushed my t-shirt up over my head in one swift movement. I felt her nails rake across my back, reasonably sure she’d drawn blood. I hissed through my teeth and threw my head back, but Katy didn’t stop.
She ripped open the button and zipper on my jeans and slid her hand inside my shorts. Again, I inhaled sharply, only this time, I groaned afterwards as her fingers found and wrapped themselves around me, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. It was almost too much, too unexpected, too emotional. I feared completely losing control. I grabbed for her hand and tried to pull back, but Katy used my momentum and pushed me onto my bed. Her lips found mine once again, biting, sucking, kissing, everything she could do to keep me in the moment. And God, it worked.
My hands behaved of their own accord and pushed her t-shirt over her head, then her sweatpants down over her hips, taking her delicate lace panties with it. She cast everything aside and flipped her hair over her shoulder, then sat astride me, her gaze pinned to mine, her eyes heavy with both passion and grief. Her movement slow and deliberate, Katy slid off my lap and onto the floor, tugging my jeans and briefs as she went, peeling them off after removing my shoes and socks.
Her hands moved languidly from my ankles to my knees and up the inside of my thighs before laying claim to the very essence of me, first with her hands, stroking and squeezing, then with her mouth, torturing me with her tongue and her teeth, sucking and pulling while her hand stroked up and down. And just when I thought I couldn’t take it any more, I pulled up on her head and bucked beneath her practiced hands. She jumped up and straddled me once again, using her hand to guide me into the deepest part of her.
Her slick flesh enveloped me in a warmth so tight and wet, I thought I would explode into a million pieces. I groaned like I was about to die, and my hands twisted the rumpled bed sheets. But then Katy held still for the briefest of moments, her hands on my chest and her hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders and down her bare breasts.
I reached for my forehead, overcome with my need to release. I looked up at Katy, and, at first, thought I saw the smallest of smiles turn up the right side of her mouth, but it was too brief, and I couldn’t be sure. She started moving against me once more, her motion controlled and with a purpose. Her flesh tightened hard around the length of me, pulsing in a frantic rhythm with each measured thrust. I couldn’t take it. I covered my face with my hands and tried to think of something else, anything but the blessed torment this woman was putting me through.
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