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The windows are fogging, as I reach between us, wrap my fingers around him, and line him up as I push my panties aside. When I sink down, he stretches me in a long push, and I bite his bottom lip as I take all of him. My forehead drops to his.

"Shit, Alana. You can't do this to me, then walk off and tell me it can't happen again." I hear his protest and understand it, but I can't speak.

I move, rising and dropping, using the seat back and his shoulders as leverage to ride him and take what I want. His hands slide under my sweater and find my breasts. He pinches my nipples through the bra, then shoves the cups down so he can feel skin. I roll my hips and take him deeper. Every time I come down, his head hits that spot that makes me shudder and whimper.

“God, this is hot,” he growls. “Such a naughty girl, Alana. You're breaking your own rules.”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He thrusts up to meet me, and I brace one hand on the ceiling and the other on his chest. I can barely breathe and my tangled pants are annoying but I want him deeper. I grind down and stay there, circling my hips so he rubs inside me exactly where I need it and my god I could explode right now.

When his thumb finds my clit and rubs, the pressure builds quickly. I can feel how wet I am, how it coats him, and I start bouncing harder, chasing that sweet release.

“You’re soaking me,” he says. “Shit, you feel so good."

I moan and fuck him harder, and he pushes my sweater up. He leans in and sucks my nipple into his mouth, teeth scraping, so I grab the back of his head and hold him there. The dual sensation—his mouth on my tit and his cock stretching me—pushes me right to the edge.

“Dimitri, don’t stop.”

He keeps thrusting up into me, rubbing my clit and sucking. I come with my face buried in his neck, pulsing around him in hard waves. My thighs clamp his hips, and I keep moving through it because I don’t want it to end. Every twitch and jolt is exquisite, the slide of his dick through my moisture, the friction. I jolt and convulse, then feel his dick detonate. It pulses inside me and warms my insides and starts to join my moisture on the slow drain downward.

"God, yes," he grunts, pushing up into me and holding there, and I breathe into his neck and close my eyes.

This wasn't about stress relief or breaking tension. I wanted Dimitri because I just want him. I'm not sure I can even fight it anymore. He's ticking every box I have. It's just that damn last name and family association that ruins things.

I'm falling in love with him. God help me. And I don't know how to fight it anymore.

Because I don't want to fight it.

17

DIMITRI

The apartment is dark when I stalk in and drop my keys on the stand by the door. I flick the light switch and stalk to the kitchen for a beer, then crack it open and head for the living room.

Who would’ve thought that Alana would initiate sex like that and be so greedy?

A half-smile curls my lips as I flick on the living room light, but my heart jumps into my chest immediately. Alexei sits on my couch with a scowl on his face and a gun lying across his knee. The darkness in his eyes mixes with a glassy look. He's high, meth, maybe, or cocaine. He's not picky when it comes to getting trashed.

"What are you doing here?" I grumble, letting my heart return to my chest cavity where it's supposed to be instead of my throat.

"Where the fuck were you?" he asks, as if we were supposed to be somewhere together and I ditched him. But we didn’t have plans. I had no plans tonight at all.

I stalk over and sink onto the couch, glowering at him. "What's it any of your business? Why are you at my house? Put your fucking gun away." So he thinks he can just park on my couch any time he wants? What an ass.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

When he looks up at me, I know he knows. Those men following us around outside the restaurant weren't my father's men. They were my brother's men, and now he's seen me out with Alana and he has all sorts of assumptions. They'd probably all be correct, but some make me look worse than others.

"What do you mean?" I ask, slurping my beer. My mind races through all the possible excuses and explanations I can muster. If I stop this marriage then somehow wind up Alana, it makes all this hard work I'm doing pointless. I still stand on the principle, but honestly, now I'm confused. It's better if I sell him a story that doesn't work against my actual goal.

"I mean, I saw you with the Volskaya girl. So tell me what the fuck is going on."

My gut churns. So it wasn't just his men—it was him too. I'm shocked they didn't tail us and confront me there in my car. That sounds more like my brother and the way he operates.

"You want the truth?" I ask, heaving out a believable sigh. It's no secret I openly protest this wedding. I've been at his throat for months, long before my father ever pitched the idea to Nikolai. My brother has no clue how detrimental this would be to our men.

"No, lie to me," he grumbles, shoving his weapon into his waistband but leaving the butt where I can see it.