Capturing Caleb (Knight Security 3) Page 4

She’d enjoyed only one forkful of the bland but delicious food before giving a start as she felt Dmitri’s proprietary hand on the bareness of her thigh.

  She froze, drawing her breath in sharply as she turned to glare at Dmitri. He didn’t even acknowledge her as he continued his conversation with Spiro. As if his hand wasn’t traveling slowly upward, to the bare apex between her thighs.

  Lena’s stomach churned. She couldn’t do this. It was too much—

  What the hell…?

  That hand had stopped a couple of inches lower than the crease between her thigh and hip, at which point the index finger began to tap against the warm flesh of her inner thigh.

  If that was meant to be arousing, then—

  “Eat,” Dmitri instructed without even glancing at her.

  How could she eat when— Her tension eased a little as that tapping finger stopped. Although, disturbingly, the hand remained. Warm and firm, but not hurting her.

  She had just half raised a second forkful of food to her lips when the tapping began again.

  Which was when Lena realized it had a distinct pattern.

  A familiar pattern?

  Three quick taps, followed by three slow ones, then three—

  Those fingers tightened painfully at the gasp she gave in recognition of the Morse code for SOS. A code Dmitri had twice now tapped out against her inner thigh.

  She and Daniel had made a game out of learning Morse code together. The two of them would send messages to each other, enjoying the fact no one else understood what they were doing. The simple code Dmitri had tapped out against her thigh was one of the first she and Daniel had learned together.

  Save Our Souls.

  Or, in modern times, Help.

  Dmitri wanted her to help him?

  Help him with what?

  He was the last person who needed to ask anyone for help. Especially from her. She didn’t even have the freedom of speech right now, let alone—

  Help…

  Can Dmitri possibly be trying to tell me he’s here to help me?

  She gave a soft, self-derisive snort.

  He was Dmitri Volkov. Bratva. The Russian mafia. With a reputation for ruthlessness even Spiro seemed slightly in awe of, from the way he deferred to Dmitri’s arrogance.

  Whatever Dmitri was or was not, after a few minutes in his company, Lena knew he was Dangerous. Definitely with a capital D.

  Her hand shook slightly as she reached down to carefully and firmly remove that hand from her thigh. She half expected Dmitri to object or put his hand back exactly where it had been. Her uncertainty returned when he didn’t do either of those things.

  That uncertainty deepened as he seemed to ignore her presence for the rest of the meal. Deliberately? With the intention of allowing Lena’s trepidation to grow at the too-rapid approach of the night ahead?

  Well, he didn’t need to stop speaking to her in order to do that. Lena inwardly admitted to being terrified.

  Half of her was utterly repulsed by the thought of having to go to bed with a man she didn’t even know.

  The other half, the part that had been fascinated by him on sight and had warmed at Dmitri’s touch just now, was terrified for another reason entirely.

  What if, as Dmitri had predicted, she actually enjoyed his lovemaking?

  Chapter 5

  “What—”

  “Nyet,” Caleb silenced Lena harshly, his hand tightening on her elbow as the two of them walked up the stairs together.

  Dinner had been the longest three hours of Caleb’s life. Sitting next to the woman he had wanted from the moment he saw her photograph all those months ago, while pretending to be someone he wasn’t: cold, ruthless, Russian Bratva. Someone Lena not only had obvious contempt for but whom she also thought she had reason to fear.

  “But—”

  This time, Caleb silenced her by swinging her round and into his arms before taking possession of her mouth.

  Fucking hell!

  Lena’s pouting lips were every bit as soft as he had imagined they might be, the heat of her mouth a lure he couldn’t resist. He groaned as he stroked his tongue inside and then along the length of hers. His arms tightened about the slenderness of her waist, and he had absolutely no control over the instant swelling of his cock as her hot breasts and thighs pressed against him.

  She wrenched her mouth away from his, her eyes blazing with anger as she pushed against his chest. “Let me go, you bastard!”

  Caleb’s arms became like steel bands as he nuzzled his face against the tender skin just beneath her ear, biting the soft lobe as he murmured, “Cameras. Listening.” He raised his head to hold her shocked gaze with his for several seconds before taking possession of her mouth a second time.

  She didn’t fight him this time.

  Instead, she felt almost boneless in Caleb’s arms, allowing him complete freedom of her lips and mouth as he once again molded her slender curves against his.

  Holding Lena was pure bloody heaven. Caressing her. Kissing her. Stroking and then thrusting his tongue inside the moist heat of her mouth in a facsimile of his engorged cock pounding inside her hot pussy.

  “There is a perfectly good bed awaiting you both upstairs, my friend.”

  Spiro’s mocking comment had the same effect as a bucket of ice water.

  Caleb wrenched his mouth away from Lena’s but kept his arm about her waist as she seemed to sway. Her face was pale, eyes a dark gray, the pupils dilated. With shock or desire?

  Or disgust…

  His eyes narrowed to icy slits as he looked down the hallway to where Spiro stood smiling up at him, his young blond lover smirking at his side.

  Spiro’s smile slipped and then disappeared altogether when Caleb didn’t answer but merely continued to look at him. “We will see you both in the morning,” the Greek said hastily.

  Caleb nodded abruptly before turning to continue up the stairs. Except Lena didn’t move. One glance at her increased pallor and slightly swaying body, and Caleb knew it wasn’t because she was being difficult but because she simply had no more strength left to fight what she thought was about to happen to her.

  What Caleb knew her fate really would have been if he truly was Dmitri Volkov.

  Dukakis would pay, he vowed inwardly. His bodyguards would pay. That smirking little shit of a lover would pay too. They would all fucking pay for reducing the bright and smiling Lena to this haunted shadow of herself.

  His nostrils flared as he placed an arm beneath her knees and one about her shoulders to lift her into his arms before carrying her up the rest of the stairs and down the corridor to his bedroom.

  Her body felt so slight, her head lolling from side to side on his shoulder as if she truly had no fight left in her.

  He needed her to have that fight, for what he knew had to come next.

  Lena wanted to cry. To scream. To shout. To fight.

  She did none of those things as Volkov nudged open the door to his bedroom with his foot and then nudged it closed again. He carried her across the room to sit her down on the side of the huge bed.

  She felt too confused to do anything.

  Earlier, Volkov had given her a glimpse of someone who had seemed almost human when he ordered her different food to eat. Then came that strange message his finger had tapped out against her thighs, and his quiet warning a few minutes ago regarding the cameras she’d already seen everywhere in the villa. Although she admitted to not knowing Dukakis had listening devices too.

  None of which seemed to matter when Dmitri had kissed her.

  She had tried to fight. She had. But when he kissed her a second time, her resistance had evaporated, and all she could think or feel was him. Dmitri Volkov.

  The defined muscles of his chest and arms.

  The smell of his aftershave and male musk.

  How good his mouth felt as it claimed hers.

  Tears of helplessness began to fall down her cheeks as she realized she had allowed him to kiss her the second
time. That she had kissed him back—

  “Undress.”

  Her gaze flickered to the face of the man who now stood beside the bed looking down at her with those cold merciless eyes as he took off his dinner jacket and placed it over the bedroom chair. His bow tie followed seconds later before he began to unbutton his shirt.

  In any other circumstances, Lena knew she would have been attracted to this man. To his confidence. To that air of danger. To the muscular strength of his body and those sculpted good looks that should have graced the cover of a fashion magazine rather than the face of a ruthless Russian mobster.

  Instead, she was terrified of what was expected of her, of him, of her response to him—

  She gasped as Dmitri removed his shirt, eyes wide as she looked at the crisscross of scars which covered the whole of his chest. Dozens of them. Straight silvery lines, several inches long. Lines which she could see also covered his back as he turned to place his shirt on the chair with his jacket. The neatness of those scars looked like cuts that been inflicted deliberately.

  “The men who did this are all dead.”

  Her startled gaze moved back up to Dmitri’s face. His jaw was clenched, eyes enigmatic, almost emotionless, his expression calm.

  And Lena knew he spoke the truth. He had killed the men who did this to him.

  She had thought she was beyond being shocked after the events of the past three months. But the violence Dmitri described, how he must have suffered as those men inflicted those cuts, one by one, and the revenge he’d taken, was something she’d only ever seen in movies before now. Fiction, and not real life.

  For Dmitri, this was real life.

  Deliberate violence.

  Followed by revenge.

  She moistened her dry lips. “Why?”

  “Why did they cut me, or why did I kill them?”

  “Why did they cut you?” The reason he’d killed them was obvious.

  “I’m Bratva.”

  “That’s it?” Her eyes widened. “They cut you because you’re Bratva?”

  He shrugged. “There are always rivals in such an organization.”

  “Not anymore, apparently.”

  “Oh yes, there are always more.” His smile was humorless as he touched several of those scars. “Do they disgust you?”

  She raised her chin. “Would it matter if they did?”

  A nerve pulsed in his jaw. “We will turn off the light once we are in bed so you won’t be troubled by them anymore. I told you to undress,” he reminded her, his voice harsh.

  Lena flinched. “I really don’t want this—”

  “Did I ask what you want?”

  “Please.” Lena hated the pleading in her voice. She had promised herself earlier she wouldn’t beg, no matter what this man did to her. Not only was she now begging, but she could feel hot tears tracking down her cheeks.

  “It is for you to please me.” Dmitri pulled her effortlessly to her feet. “If you are a good girl for me, I may even let you come too.” His hand moved to grasp the neckline of her gown, and with one firm tug, he ripped the gown completely from her body.

  Caleb’s jaw clenched so tightly at the sight of Lena’s completely naked body, he was surprised not to hear bones and teeth breaking.

  She seemed too shocked by his actions to react as his gaze swept over her small, pert breasts tipped with dusky-rose nipples that became engorged under his avid gaze. Her waist was slender. Her hips a sensuous curve. Dark red curls covered her mound at the apex of silky smooth legs.

  The mortification and then embarrassment now emblazoned across her shocked face as she placed one hand over her breasts and the other over her mound was enough to make Caleb feel ill.

  He hated this. Fucking hated what he was doing to Lena. The humiliation he was putting her through, after all she had already suffered. But he had no choice. Neither of them had a choice.

  He would get her out of here, but he couldn’t do it until the time was right. At the moment, with bodyguards outside and inside the house, and alarms set on all the windows and doors now Dukakis was safely tucked up in bed with his lover, the odds were too high against them succeeding tonight.

  None of his regret showed on his face as he allowed his gaze to roam insolently over her naked body. “We are going to take a shower together.” He clasped one of her hands and pulled her toward the adjoining bathroom.

  She held back. “I already bathed earlier—”

  Caleb turned to look at her. “Would you rather I just took you right now?”

  She swallowed. “No.”

  “I thought not,” Caleb taunted, pulling her the rest of the way into the bathroom before releasing her hand to push open the glass door into the shower cubicle that took up all of one side of the huge tiled room. He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature before turning back to her.

  She stood alone and vulnerable in the middle of the cavernous room. “I really don’t want this.”

  “I do.”

  “Why?” she groaned, eyes imploring.

  “You are very beautiful.” Caleb ignored that plea, keeping his gaze fixed on her as he unfastened his trousers and allowed them to fall to the tiled floor.

  She swallowed. “And unwilling.”

  “As I said earlier, you will not be unwilling for long.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his black boxers and removed those too.

  Lena’s eyes widened as his aroused cock jutted up toward his abdomen, long and thick, pre-cum already glistening on the bulbous head.

  “Like what you see?” Caleb challenged, curling the fingers of one hand around his cock and pumping slowly.

  Her chin rose. “I was just thinking how pathetic you are if forcing a woman is the only way you can get an erection.”

  Yes!

  Fucking fight, Lena. Fight, damn it!

  A humorless smile curved his lips. “You may displease me, but you will not succeed in angering me, Lena.”

  “Don’t call me that!” Her eyes flashed.

  “I will call you whatever I wish,” he assured her calmly.

  She tossed her head back, those deep red tresses cascading down her spine. “But I don’t have to answer!”

  “Oh, you will answer to me completely before this night is over.” He pushed open the door into the shower, pleased to see that the steam had built up inside the glass cubicle while they were talking. “After you. Now,” he rasped as she hesitated. “You are only delaying the inevitable.”

  She continued to glare rebelliously at him for several seconds, before her shoulders slumped and she crossed the room with slow steps in those high-heeled sandals. Caleb’s self-loathing increased at her air of defeat.

  He waited only long enough for Lena to step out of her sandals and into the shower cubicle before following her inside and closing the door.

  He knew Lena believed he was prolonging her torture by insisting she take a shower with him.

  That bending her to his will was all just part of the sick game Dmitri Volkov was playing with her.

  It wasn’t.

  As well as the two cameras in the bathroom—Dukakis really was a sick fuck!—there were two listening devices. The only reason Caleb was insisting Lena take a shower with him was because he knew the steam filling the shower cubicle would help to shield their bodies once they were inside, and the sounds of the water spray would help muffle their voices.

  He hoped she would stop looking at him like he was something foul smelling that had attached itself to one of those fuck-me high-heeled shoes.

  “Come now, Lena,” he taunted as she moved as far away from him as the cubicle would allow. “It is not as if you are a virgin. Or are you?”

  Color warmed her cheeks. “Would it bother you if I was?”

  “No.”

  Lena’s chin rose defiantly. “Bastard!”

  “And I hate myself for it,” he drawled without apology, stepping closer to her and smiling slightly as she took a step back, which brought her
up against the tiled wall.

  “I hate you enough for both of us!” Lena sneered, all the time knowing she wasn’t being completely honest. With Dmitri or herself.

  She hated who he was. What he was. What he was about to do to her.

  How could she not hate all those things?

  But…

  She had seen glimpses of another man several times during this torturous evening. A man who, whether he realized it or not, had protected her from the worst of Spiro’s lewd remarks. A man who had lifted her up in his arms and carried her when she had almost fallen on the stairs.

  A man who made her name, Lena, sound like a caress.

  A man whose body, all taut muscles, lit a heat deep inside her and caused her nipples to tingle and harden.

  She had tried to look away when Dmitri stood naked in front of her in the bedroom. Had tried not to stare at those scars. Or salivate as she imagined taking his long and aroused cock into her mouth and tasting the juices slicking the glans.

  She had tried.

  And failed…

  Something about this man sparked a fire deep inside her. Aroused her body in a way she had never been aroused before.

  Which is just sick, Lena. Utterly, completely sick.

  He was the enemy. A man who admitted to being a cold and ruthless killer.

  But those men had attacked him first, she reminded herself. Had cut him time and time again, without mercy—

  She gasped as Dmitri stepped forward, his body solid against hers, the length of his cock pressing against her abdomen. He held her gaze captive as he took both her hands in one of his and held them up against the tiles above her head. Immobilizing her, unless she wanted to find herself squirming against and arousing that hard body even more than it already was.

  Tears stung her eyes as his body slid down hers so that he could place his warm lips against her throat. “Dmitri—”

  “Caleb,” he murmured before biting her earlobe.

  “What…?” she groaned, the pleasure of that bite having shot straight to her clit, causing it to throb and swell.

  “My name is Caleb Knight.” He kept his voice low as he ground his hips against hers, the stiffness of his cock rubbing against her mound. “I’m going to get you out of here— We’re being watched!” He made the warning sound like a groan as she would have visibly reacted to his words.