The Volkov Brothers Series: The Complete Series Read online

  “Sorry.” She pulled her hand away at the same time as him, noticing his slight wince when he moved his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

  “What?” He frowned then rolled his neck. “No. Old injury. It gives me problems sometimes is all. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “I’m not worried.” She wandered back to the bed with her drink. “I took some classes a few years ago to become a massage therapist, but then my mom got sick and I had to drop out.” Daphne flopped back onto the mattress, cracking open her water and taking a sip, then shrugging. “Some deep tissue work might help with the pain, that’s all.”

  “Are you offering?” he asked, leaning back against the dresser, one brow raised and arms crossed. The movement stretched the fabric of his white shirt taut across his muscled arms and chest.

  Was I? She swallowed hard. Touching him was the last thing she should be doing right now, but damn if she hadn’t just opened that door. Exhaling slowly, she set her water aside and wiped the condensation from her palms onto the comforter on the bed. “I’m not sure I remember much. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like that.”

  Been a while since she’d been with a man period—touching, holding, pleasuring. Not that she’d tell him so.

  Nik stared at her a long moment, silent, as if weighing the consequences of her offer. Then, slowly, he approached, undoing a button for every step he took until his shirt hung open to reveal an expanse of tanned skin and lean sinew, marked here and there with tattoos or scars. His stomach was ridged with muscle and a smattering of dark hair covered his toned pecs. He slid the shirt off of his shoulders and tossed it over onto the chair where he’d been sitting, leaving him naked from the waist up.

  Throat dry and pulse pounding, Daphne was unable to look away from him, suddenly realizing just how treacherous touching him could be for her well-guarded heart. A black star was emblazoned on his right lower arm and his left shoulder—the one that seemed to be bothering him—was covered with an intricate pattern that reminded her of medieval armor, the ink there stretching from the base of his neck down to his elbow. It must’ve taken hours, and a high pain tolerance, to have that done.

  He took a seat on the edge of the opposite side of the bed with his back facing her. Several pale silver scars marked the long stretch of his back as well, as if he’d endured a beating or a fight in his past. Given what he did for a living, she suspected the latter.

  “The ache is worse on the left side,” he said, confirming what she’d thought. “And seems to start in my neck then shoot down into my shoulder and upper back.”

  Having him facing away from her helped, but her hands were still shaking as she set the water aside then crawled across the bed to settle in behind him, her knees spread to rest on either side of his hips. The heat from his skin made her shiver slightly and his scent—musk and vanilla and warm male—surrounded her, quickening her already racing heartbeat. Nervous, she rubbed her hands on her sweat pants to take away their chill then raised her fingers to his shoulders, babbling about nothing at all as she touched him for the first time.

  “Before my mom went into the nursing home, one of the hospice nurses showed me how to do Reiki.” His muscles bunched beneath her hands, his flesh soft and smooth as velvet. She began to gently work the knots of tension from his body, losing herself and her inhibitions as she went. “The ancient Chinese believed there were pressure points around the body. Places that if massaged properly would reduce stress and relieve everything from insomnia to eye strain.”

  Daphne kept her voice low and steady, hoping to lull him into relaxation. Soon, his tense shoulders drooped and his head fell forward slightly, his words emerging as little more than a deep purr.

  “That feels good. So good,” Nik said, leaning back slightly into her so that her breasts brushed against his back with each movement. Her sensitive nipples hardened immediately and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. She knew about sensual massage and using it as a gateway to sex, but she’d never experienced such all-consuming desire in her life. Desire that she needed to resist, she reminded herself. This man was still not her friend, not her lover, but her captor, her guardian until she testified in court. Too bad that became more difficult to recall with each knead of his muscles, each stroke of his skin, each little groan of satisfaction from his lips. “Don’t stop. Yes. Right there. More, please.”

  Moisture gathered between her legs as she imagined him saying those same words to her as she stroked his cock, took his tip between her lips and sucked and licked him to orgasm, the salty taste of his pre-cum coating her tongue and the delicious slide of his fingers through her hair, holding her in place, coaxing her to keep going, directing her to pleasure him the way he liked it best.

  Her breath hitched as she worked the back of his stiff neck, pressing her thumbs into the tension there. “This spot is called the Heavenly Pillar. It releases stress and insomnia from the body.” Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears. “Tell me if I’m working you too hard.”

  “No. You’re working me just right, baloven’.”

  His use of the endearment only drove her passion for him higher. It had been so long, too long, since she’d had a boyfriend, a lover, someone who would take care of her for a change instead of her always being the caretaker.

  “You should wear that purple dress more often,” he said, after a few beats of silence.

  Confused, she smiled at him over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

  “The dress you were wearing earlier, to see your mother.” He turned to her, so close now that his warm, minty breath fanned her face. If she leaned forward slightly their lips would meet. She stared at his mouth now, hypnotized by how soft his lips looked. “You looked amazing in it.”

  “Oh,” she said, unable to come up with a snappier reply, unable to do anything really except stare into his eyes and wish he’d hurry up and kiss her already. It was a horrible idea. It would be nothing but a mistake she’d surely regret later. It suddenly seemed like she’d die without learning if he tasted as delicious as he looked. “You’ll see me in it again tomorrow.”

  “Lucky me,” he whispered, leaning closer, so close that her pulse fluttered and her eyes slid closed and her mouth tingled with anticipation. One more inch, just one more, and she’d know…

  Then, suddenly, Nik was on his feet and stalking toward the bathroom, a trail of what sounded like harsh Russian curses in his wake. Daphne fisted her hands in the comforter and stared at him, half-dazed with lust.

  “I need a shower.” He stopped at the bathroom door and spoke to her over his shoulder. “Do not attempt to leave this room. You will not get far. Kaz is next door and my men have the perimeter of this motel secured. I’ll be out shortly.”

  Long after the door shut behind him and the sound of running water echoed through the room, Daphne stared at where he’d been, wondering what the hell was happening with her and how the hell she’d make it through the next few weeks—hell, the next few hours—unscathed. Her mind and her emotions were a mess. She wasn’t sure what worried her more, her personal safety or her emotional well-being. Not to mention her confusion over her desire for Nik. He’d all but rejected her just now, and still she lusted after him. Worst of all, she had no idea if her feelings for him were just the result of being bored or held captive, or if they were something more, something real, something lasting.

  Nik stripped off his pants and boxers then stepped beneath the icy spray of the shower, hissing as the cold hit his overheated skin. He’d hoped the water would cool his ardor, but it did little to ease his raging hard-on.

  Getting involved sexually with Daphne would be a huge disaster on so many levels. The Bratva would not take kindly to him fucking their witness. His men would not respect a man who thought with his cock and not his brain. And his own pride and self-respect would suffer because he’d already vowed to himself not to touch her.

  Yet none of those things made any difference to his throbbing dic
k.

  Sighing, he turned to face the shower head and quickly shampooed his hair then scrubbed down his body, washing away the dirt and stress of the day, carefully avoiding his jutting erection until he couldn’t anymore. This was stupid, ridiculous. He was a grown adult man who hadn’t had sex in a long time. That was all this was. A problem to be solved.

  Soaping up his hands again he grabbed himself firmly and leaned back against the tile wall to take care of business. He pictured his usual fantasies of a buxom Marilyn Monroe-type going down on him, sucking him with skill and ease. He worked his cock with his fist, pumping slowly at first, then increasing the speed and pressure as his hips began to thrust forward, urging him onward. His eyes slid closed as his pleasure increased and he took a deep breath, the images in his mind shifting from Marilyn to Daphne, her sweet, full lips closing around the sensitive head of his cock, her pink tongue licking his hard shaft before taking him deeper into her throat. Her moans of passion as he gently guided her head to blow him just how he liked it, the heat in her eyes as she looked up at him, watching him through a half-lidded gaze as she slipped her fingers into her own wetness and he hurtled closer and closer, so fucking close to the edge…

  Nik bit his lip to hold back his groan as he came hard all over his hand, his knees shaking and his hips bucking, the icy water a sharp contrast from the scalding hotness searing through his veins and jetting from his cock to drip down the cheap shower curtain across from him.

  He stood for several minutes, catching his breath, before cleaning up, and shutting off the shower. After quickly shaving, and brushing his teeth, he wrapped a damp towel around his waist and exited the bathroom, sure his libido was back under control at last.

  He stopped short on his way to the dresser to grab some fresh boxer-briefs, the quiet sound of Daphne’s snores drawing his attention like a laser beam. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of the bed, her legs curled up tight as she snoozed on her side, her blond curls spread over the pillows in a decadent curtain of silk. Part of him wanted to rip off the towel and join her in bed, awakening her with a kiss, then making love to her all night long. The other part of him was stunned that his cock was twitching to attention again after his recent orgasm. This shouldn’t be happening. It was so wrong, yet felt so, so right.

  Scowling, he grabbed underwear and another pair of sweats from the bag then walked back to the bathroom to put them on. Daphne Allman was dangerous to him in more ways than one. He needed to be on guard with her, now more than ever, considering how his body reacted around her without his consent. Nik tugged on his clothes, then exited the bathroom for the last time, tossing his wet towel in the shower.

  Back in the bedroom, he contemplated the best way to deal with his charge. Common sense said he should take his pillow and a blanket and sleep on the floor tonight. But his aching neck and shoulder said otherwise. He hadn’t been lying earlier. He did have an old injury there, a bullet wound that had never healed properly, leaving arthritis and scar tissue in its wake. Sleeping on the floor or even in the chair would risk him losing mobility on that side and, being left-handed, he couldn’t afford to lose his trigger finger to such stupidity.

  He glanced at the bed again, at Daphne snoozing away in the fetal position smack dab in the middle of the mattress and sighed. He’d just have to find a way to get her to move to her own side, then keep his hands to himself the rest of the night. Should be easy enough, right?

  Nik shut off all the lights and checked the locks on the door, then stowed his gun on the nightstand, within easy reach should he need it, before walking around to Daphne’s side of the bed and shaking her shoulder gently.

  She frowned and batted his hand away, so he tried again.

  “Wake up, baloven’,” he said. She groaned but didn’t open her eyes. “You need to move over.”

  “No,” she whined, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “Just five more minutes.”

  Chuckling, he smoothed the damp hair from her forehead. “No, my pet. It’s not time to get up. You just need to roll over so I have room to sleep too.”

  With a huff, she did as he asked, moving completely onto her side of the bed again before her breath evened out into the patterns of sleep again. He watched her for several minutes, amazed that she could sleep so soundly after all the chaos that bastard Hornbull had caused in their lives recently and admiring her tenacity and trust that he’d keep her safe. His chest pinched slightly over that last thought. He’d not misread that look in her eyes as she’d leaned over his shoulder early, the slight pucker to her lips, the flush in her cheeks. She’d wanted him just as badly as he’d wanted her. But he had to be strong for both of them. After all, he was the only thing standing between her and certain death at this point, whether she knew that or not.

  Shaking his head, Nik walked back around to his side of the bed and shut off the light. He climbed between the cool sheets and stared at the shadows dancing on the ceiling. In the distance, traffic roared and water dripped from the leaky shower, but all he could concentrate on was the lush, deep sighs of the sleeping woman beside him in bed. Her heat and scent surrounded him and lulled him into relaxation.

  Maybe he should consider sleeping with her. After all, seducing her might make her more amenable to obeying his commands. Or, his rational brain asserted, it could just make her more stubborn, make her more determined to use her feminine wiles against him to get her way. He thought about his younger brother Ben, who’d found the woman of his dreams while working on his last mission for their Bratva family a few months earlier. Ben and his Lucy had fallen in love despite the dangers and had made a new life for themselves outside this life of crime and violence. Someday, perhaps Nik himself would be so lucky. Perhaps someday he too would have the kind of lasting love his parents had shared, away from all this kill-or-be-killed insanity. Perhaps after all this was over he would take Daphne away on a vacation, they could get to know each other all over again under different circumstances, fall in love, get married, have beautiful babies and make love every day. And perhaps, monkeys would fly out of his ass.

  Frustrated, he rolled over onto his side, putting his back to Daphne. This was crazy. He wouldn’t sleep with her because he couldn’t sleep with her. Too much was at stake, for both of them. She needed to testify and he needed to fulfill his obligations to his friend Tolya and to his Bratva family. Anything less and they would both end up six feet under. There would be no life together, no marriage, no babies. Not in his future. Not as long as the Bratva ruled his life. And not in her future either, if he let himself do something stupid.

  He closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the brush of her stockinged feet against his legs and the slight stir of her exhales against the skin of his back as he fell into a restless slumber.

  6

  Daphne

  Daphne opened her eyes and blinked into the pre-dawn gloom. Strange ceiling, strange walls, a strange weight around her waist and hard warmth pressed against her back. Her breath caught and panic rose as her mind took a moment to recall what had happened, where she was.

  A motel room, with Nik Volkov.

  Oh, God. In bed, with Nik.

  Pulse racing and skin tingling with awareness she slowly looked over her shoulder to see him snoozing behind her, his face buried in her hair and his expression oddly sweet and more relaxed than she’d ever seen it before. He looked younger this way, less angry and burdened, softer and more approachable. More touchable, if she were honest.

  Carefully, so as not to wake him, she rolled over onto her back and studied him more closely. Perhaps, if she hadn’t still been a bit groggy herself, she would’ve been alarmed to find the man who’d all but kidnapped her and kept her prisoner now sleeping by her side. But strangely enough, she found it comforting. And yes, she would’ve preferred to be back in her old apartment with her old friends and old life, but logically, she understood his position.

  It was his friend who had died that night. He needed her to testify for the prosec
ution and she wanted to do it. She abhorred violence and wanted justice for that poor victim as much as he did. The fact the man currently holding her in his arms was also a violent criminal himself wasn’t lost on her, but somehow in this hazy twilight, Nik didn’t look violent or dangerous or scary. He looked… Well, he looked adorable and kind and infinitely touchable.

  Unable to resist any longer, Daphne reached over to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. He stirred, murmuring in his sleep then pulling her tighter against him. Feeling bolder, she traced the pattern of his tattoo over his shoulder, tingles of attraction zinging up her arm from the point of contact. His skin was so smooth and soft, the muscle beneath rigid in contrast. Her touch moved down his arm to the elbow and he shivered.

  “Are you done groping me yet?” he muttered, his voice half-smothered by his pillow as his hold on her loosened.

  Daphne froze, her eyes widening. “I, uh, I was seeing if you were awake.”

  One green eye squinted open to stare at her. “Why are you awake?”

  “Not sure.” She took a deep breath and forced her rioting pulse to calm. “I think being locked in that safe house without windows has screwed with my internal clock.”

  “Hmm.” He yawned then shifted slightly to glance at the clock on the nightstand before turning back to her. His arm around her waist remained in place as he flopped back onto his pillow again. “We’ve got several hours before we need to leave. Get some more sleep.”

  Too bad she felt totally alert now. She laid there, staring up at the shadows drifting across the white ceiling from the passing headlights outside as she tapped her fingers against the comforter.

  “What’s wrong?” Nik finally asked after a minute or two passed. He propped himself up on one elbow, his dark brown hair deliciously disheveled and the hint of stubble on his jaw making him look more handsome, if that were possible. “You are safe.”