Page 7 of Claimed By River

“They’re almost black until the light hits them.” His gaze never leaves mine. “Then all those warm brown tones come through.”

Nobody has ever looked at my eyes long enough to notice that. Nobody has ever looked at me long enough to notice anything. My father made certain of it, and after him I made certain of it myself, because a girl who lets herself be seen is a girl who can be found.

His other hand finds my waist, tugging me closer until I can feel the heat of his body along mine. This time, I’m not scared. Not of him. Not anymore. I want him to touch me. I want to be wanted by him.

The air between us turns thick. He studies my face like he’s never seen it before, waiting and watching, almost cautious. I have no idea what my body is doing. There’s an ache low in my belly that I’ve felt before, alone, late at night, but never once in the light in front of another person. It frightens me a little that he can probably see it.

A soft whimper leaves my lips. It’s the nudge he needs. He bends his head and closes the last inch of space between us.

Our lips meet, and I understand, immediately and completely, that I have never been kissed before. Not like this. Not at all. Whatever I imagined it would be, it wasn’t this—hungry, devouring. His beard feels rough against my chin, his hand sliding up into my hair to hold me exactly where he wants me. I don’t know what to do with my mouth. He shows me. My moan comes out muffled against his lips, and I don’t recognize the sound as mine.

My back hits the edge of his desk, and he lifts me onto it, paper and pens scattering to the floor. I slide my hands up his chest and wrap my arms around his neck, holding on to him as new sensations race through my body. River hooks one of my legs around his hip, and my skirt rides up. The slick heat between my thighs is embarrassing and enormous and completely beyond my control.

I press against the rough denim of his jeans, chasing something I can’t name, and the sound I make is small and mortified.

“River…” I breathe out in a throaty voice, lost in the throes of desire as I come up for air.

He groans into my neck and rocks against me, the friction making me dizzy. My hips rock back to meet him, finding the rhythm on their own. Once they’ve found it, I can’t stop them. I’m lost to a living, breathing flame, urging me to find release in any way. My arms tighten around his neck, and I bury my face against his throat because I can’t look at him while I do this.

The pressure builds into something that stops feeling good and starts feeling like too much. I don’t know what’s happening to me. For one bright, panicked second, I think I should stop. And then it breaks over me, and I understand that this is what it is, that this is the thing I’ve read about. It goes on so much longer than I ever thought it would. I bite his shoulder to muffle the sound. River doesn’t let go. He holds me through it, hands grounding me, mouth gentle and reverent on my jaw.

When I can see again, I lean into his waiting lips, basking in the euphoria of the moment. Then, the shrill ring of the shop’s front desk phone cuts through the quiet. I jump back. What I’ve just done flashes through my mind all at once.

What have I done?

I have no time to think. I slide off the desk, pull down my skirt, and slip past him, hurrying toward the front of the shop.

I pick up the receiver. “Thank you for calling 4R Ink. This is Nadia speaking. How can I help you?”

The line is silent. I hear a long, heavy breath.

Then a man’s voice speaks in Russian. “Nakonets-to ya nashel tebya, moya dochenka.”

Finally, I have found you, my daughter.

Every ounce of blood drains from my face. The line goes dead, and the dial tone hums against my ear.

Chapter Three

River

I find Nadia shaking in the breakroom. She’s gone completely pale, so pale I think she might collapse where she stands. Her breathing comes in quick, shallow bursts as her dark brown eyes remain fixed on nothing. I don’t hesitate before stepping in front of her.

“Nadia.” She doesn’t answer. Fuck. The thing in my chest that wants to take this whole city apart until she’s herself again starts pulling at its chain.

“Nadia,” I try again.

Her gaze finally finds mine, but she’s looking through me instead of at me.

“Angel, you have to talk to me. What’s going on?”

I’m prepared to beg, cajole, and push until she answers, but I don’t have to.

“My father,” she whispers so quietly I almost don’t hear her. “He found me.”

The words land like a punch to the gut. I don’t know what it means, but from her reaction, her father is not someone I want anywhere near her. Nadia is mine now. I’ve had a taste of her, so all bets are off.

Without thinking, I reach for her. This time, she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she grabs the front of my T-shirt with both hands as though she’s afraid the floor is about to disappear beneath her feet. Her entire body trembles against mine, and every protective instinct I possess roars to life.