…”
Where was Rory? That offer of going home certainly sounded good right now.
“Anton.”
Viviana’s quiet tenor in his mind asking him to be there in the morning to wake up their son reminded him of where he needed to be right now. Where he wanted to be …
“Anton?”
A hand landed to the middle of his chest. The heat from Natalie’s unexpected touch and what was already moving over his skin sent Anton moving backwards instantly. When the back of his legs hit the couch, Anton found himself seated.
Then, she was on him. Straddling his waist, hands moving. It was much too fast, and Anton couldn’t process the feelings with his thoughts, and his thoughts with the feelings.
“Are you?” he heard her ask again. “Did you?”
Buttons on his shirt were snapped open. Fingers trailed up his chest, over his neck. Something hot spilled along his cheek. Anton’s fingers were digging into her sides, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was to try to move her off him, or keep her there.
He certainly liked the way her hips ground into the length of his erection, but disgust was rolling heavy, too.
Not right, he knew. So wrong.
“What?” Anton rasped.
“Those people they said you killed.”
“Who says that?”
“People. I wondered,” Natalie mused above him. “You hear talk, but you don’t really know. Did you do that?”
“To some,” Anton muttered. “Men who didn’t deserve breath.”
Anton was aware he needed to stop talking, but the filter between his brain and his mouth wasn’t working. Just like the filter between his mind and his cock. They weren’t in agreement, either.
“Sonny?” Natalie asked softly.
“He tried to kill my wife,” Anton answered. “I made sure he didn’t try again.”
Something screamed at him to shut up.
“And what's his name … Sergei?”
Anton chuckled lowly. “Someone else did that. I just helped.”
“His daughter?” Natalie whispered, coming down dangerously close to Anton’s face.
“That was me,” Anton said.
A hand was at his groin, then, pulling at the button, sliding down the zipper. Wetness flicked at his neck, sending something new pulsing and racing through his blood and cock.
“Say yes,” Natalie said gently. “Tell me yes, Anton.”
She didn’t say his name right. It didn’t fall over his senses like liquid gold, or send him spinning. Again he was reminded of how wrong she was with her light colored eyes and jasmine scent.
Fuck, he wished his body would understand that, too.
“Stop touching me,” Anton breathed. “No!”
With a sudden strength that seemed to return with no warning, Anton shoved the female off his lap. Natalie landed to the hardwood floor of his office with a thump, her legs sprawling out underneath her as her face morphed into a mask of surprise.
“Don’t you fucking come anywhere near me.”
Anton wasn’t sure if she’d heard him. Time was jumping again.
Chapter Five
There was a god-awful pulsing in the back of Anton’s skull. Nausea rolled through his middle like a wrecking ball intent on killing him. That feeling was only increased when he turned in the bed and groaned, wanting to bury his face into something sweet-smelling and soft, like his wife.
Anton only met cold sheets instead of Viviana’s warmth.
Instantly, his eyes popped open, unfocused and unsure. The morning light filtering into the master bedroom of their home burned his vision, making his headache that much worse. Struggling to figure out exactly why he felt like shit and where in the hell his wife was, Anton rolled over to his back and pressed his palms to his forehead.
“Oh God, I feel like death. Holy he—”
“Rough night?”
With a dry mouth and bleary eyes, Anton glanced a glance in the direction of where Viviana’s annoyed voice had come from. Standing in the entrance of their bedroom, her hip pressed to the doorjamb and a cup of coffee in hand, his wife looked pissed.
Somehow, Anton knew he needed to
Where was Rory? That offer of going home certainly sounded good right now.
“Anton.”
Viviana’s quiet tenor in his mind asking him to be there in the morning to wake up their son reminded him of where he needed to be right now. Where he wanted to be …
“Anton?”
A hand landed to the middle of his chest. The heat from Natalie’s unexpected touch and what was already moving over his skin sent Anton moving backwards instantly. When the back of his legs hit the couch, Anton found himself seated.
Then, she was on him. Straddling his waist, hands moving. It was much too fast, and Anton couldn’t process the feelings with his thoughts, and his thoughts with the feelings.
“Are you?” he heard her ask again. “Did you?”
Buttons on his shirt were snapped open. Fingers trailed up his chest, over his neck. Something hot spilled along his cheek. Anton’s fingers were digging into her sides, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was to try to move her off him, or keep her there.
He certainly liked the way her hips ground into the length of his erection, but disgust was rolling heavy, too.
Not right, he knew. So wrong.
“What?” Anton rasped.
“Those people they said you killed.”
“Who says that?”
“People. I wondered,” Natalie mused above him. “You hear talk, but you don’t really know. Did you do that?”
“To some,” Anton muttered. “Men who didn’t deserve breath.”
Anton was aware he needed to stop talking, but the filter between his brain and his mouth wasn’t working. Just like the filter between his mind and his cock. They weren’t in agreement, either.
“Sonny?” Natalie asked softly.
“He tried to kill my wife,” Anton answered. “I made sure he didn’t try again.”
Something screamed at him to shut up.
“And what's his name … Sergei?”
Anton chuckled lowly. “Someone else did that. I just helped.”
“His daughter?” Natalie whispered, coming down dangerously close to Anton’s face.
“That was me,” Anton said.
A hand was at his groin, then, pulling at the button, sliding down the zipper. Wetness flicked at his neck, sending something new pulsing and racing through his blood and cock.
“Say yes,” Natalie said gently. “Tell me yes, Anton.”
She didn’t say his name right. It didn’t fall over his senses like liquid gold, or send him spinning. Again he was reminded of how wrong she was with her light colored eyes and jasmine scent.
Fuck, he wished his body would understand that, too.
“Stop touching me,” Anton breathed. “No!”
With a sudden strength that seemed to return with no warning, Anton shoved the female off his lap. Natalie landed to the hardwood floor of his office with a thump, her legs sprawling out underneath her as her face morphed into a mask of surprise.
“Don’t you fucking come anywhere near me.”
Anton wasn’t sure if she’d heard him. Time was jumping again.
Chapter Five
There was a god-awful pulsing in the back of Anton’s skull. Nausea rolled through his middle like a wrecking ball intent on killing him. That feeling was only increased when he turned in the bed and groaned, wanting to bury his face into something sweet-smelling and soft, like his wife.
Anton only met cold sheets instead of Viviana’s warmth.
Instantly, his eyes popped open, unfocused and unsure. The morning light filtering into the master bedroom of their home burned his vision, making his headache that much worse. Struggling to figure out exactly why he felt like shit and where in the hell his wife was, Anton rolled over to his back and pressed his palms to his forehead.
“Oh God, I feel like death. Holy he—”
“Rough night?”
With a dry mouth and bleary eyes, Anton glanced a glance in the direction of where Viviana’s annoyed voice had come from. Standing in the entrance of their bedroom, her hip pressed to the doorjamb and a cup of coffee in hand, his wife looked pissed.
Somehow, Anton knew he needed to
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