Betting On Her (A Wilde Love Novel Book 2) Read online

  “Is this what you came for?” I bit down gently and listened for that little mewl of pleasure I was certain I’d hear. She didn’t disappoint me when that sexy, deep sound echoed through the air.

  “No, this is not what I came for, but I want it anyway.” She reached for my pants and fumbled with my belt. Her deft little fingers had it loose in seconds. She unzipped my slacks and set my length free. The heat of her palm wrapped around me and stroked my shaft. Nothing ever felt so good.

  I pulled the cups of her bra down and took turns suckling perfect pink nipples. My lips grazed her skin, leaving a trail of wet between her breasts and down her flat stomach, where I met the barrier of her jeans. Her hand left me and went straight for her zipper.

  I stood and kicked off my shoes before I let my pants fall to the floor. When I looked back at Katya, she was naked on my couch with her legs open and arms wide. I’d gone to heaven.

  I gripped my shaft and stroked it slowly while she watched. “You want this?”

  Her hips rose as if somehow she could meet me halfway. “Yes. Just once.”

  I chuckled. “You think once will be enough?”

  Sadness crossed her expression. “It will have to be.”

  I climbed between her welcoming thighs and pressed inside her velvet-like glove. She quivered around me. I closed my eyes and willed myself to not erupt like a twelve-year-old watching his first porn. Buried deep inside her, I stilled and let myself acclimate to her heat and the fist-tight grip she had on me.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. Her hips lifted, urging me to move.

  “So good, Katya. So damn good.” I tested out slow motions and built myself up to a pounding pace when someone banged on the door. “Come back later. I’m busy.” I never lost my rhythm.

  “I’ve got your coffee,” Mrs. Price answered.

  “Later,” I shouted as I kept up my pace. When Katya’s moans got louder, I covered her mouth with mine. While the kiss was perfect, what was happening between our bodies was so much better. There was a point of no return for a man, and I’d thought I’d reached it several times. Maybe I knew this would never happen again. My body understood this was all it would get of this sexy woman. How I kept up, I had no idea, but the ebb and flow of my arousal kept me hard and inside her.

  When she gripped my hips and pulled me tight, I knew she was close. I changed my position to one that would bring her the most friction and pleasure. Seconds later, she exploded beneath me. Not once in all the times I’d had sex had I felt anything so powerful as Katya’s muscles milking me to climax. My final thrust took me over the edge, and I poured my heat inside her. None of this was wise, especially the no condom part, but it felt right. Like somehow this one time was supposed to be perfect.

  Sweaty and spent, I collapsed on top of her. When she wheezed from my weight, I flipped us over and held her body close to mine.

  “Can we stay like this for a moment?” she asked. Her head moved across my chest until she found a comfortable spot to the side of my tie.

  “I’ve got you.” The truth was, she had me from the minute I sank inside her body. We’d always had this connection. We felt it in the air when we were together. We arced off each other’s current our whole lives. Sparks that ignited each time we came into contact with each other. Today wasn’t an accident. It was inevitable. The next problem was what we would do with the truth. Katya and I were made for each other.

  My fingers traced the soft skin of her curves from the globes of her perfect ass to the dip between her shoulder blades.

  “Why didn’t we do this years ago?” Her breath floated across my chest.

  “Because you were engaged to my brother.”

  She lifted her head and stared at me with soul-piercing blue eyes. “But now I’m engaged to Sergei.”

  Her words hit me like a hammer to the chest. The pain crushing the passion we shared to bits. “But you don’t love him.”

  She pushed up and straddled my thighs. “No. I don’t believe in love.”

  “No? Such a skeptic for someone so young.” I ran a finger across her nipple and watched it pucker under my touch. “You should be able to choose your husband. Why do you allow your father to decide?” Here was the question of the day. Why did Yuri give his daughter to a man who brought nothing to the marriage?

  She leaned back so my hand could no longer tease arousal from her breasts. “I am a woman. In my family, that means my worthiness is connected to my marriage.”

  “Why Sergei?”

  She scooted off me and grabbed for her clothes, but I caught her hand and pulled her back to my chest.

  “It’s a punishment. I’m not sure if it’s my father's or mine. I don’t think Sergei was his choice. I think it was the Bratvas' doing.”

  My head swam with options, and only one came to mind. “They are going to kill your father to gain power over his assets.” Saying it out loud only confirmed it in my mind. “Your dad will be dead the night of your wedding. With Mikhail in jail, there’s only you left to run things. The marriage is to get access to your father’s holdings.”

  She squirmed in my hands, but I wasn’t ready to let go. Finally, she gave up and relaxed in my arms. “I have no choice. What happens to me and my father is about his choices.”

  “That’s a big sacrifice.”

  She laughed. “It’s not beyond him. He has tried to sacrifice me twice. The first time to your brother, and now to the Bull. My father loves the business, but he never loved me.”

  It was my turn to chuckle. “Not true. Remember the pony party you had for your seventh birthday?” Her father had brought in a dozen Shetlands for her party. What I remembered was how her mother screamed when they ate her roses.

  “It all changed when my mother died. One minute she was planning my birthday party, and the next she was dead. After that, my father acted like he hated me. Like somehow I was the reason for everything awful in his life.”

  I pressed my lips to the top of her head. “I’m sorry, Katya. I forgot your mom died right before your birthday.”

  “It’s old news, but can you believe I haven’t celebrated since? Not a cake or a card or a present?”

  I sat up, forcing her to sit with me. Her legs sat on each side of my thighs, and my erection probed her for entrance. She moved until the head slipped inside, and she sighed. “This is what I give myself in advance of my birthday.” This time, the pace and pressure were determined by her. She gave, and I took. She took, and I gave her every inch I had. Bouncing on my shaft, she grabbed my hand and pressed my thumb to the exact place she needed friction. I stroked and rubbed. Her breaths came jagged and edgy. She bit her lips closed and rocked on top of me until she found the release she sought. When her insides fluttered against me, I jumped off the cliff with her. She swayed gently as if to get every last good feeling owed to her.

  When we caught our breaths, she looked down at me. Softness not normally found on Katya’s face emerged. She lifted my shirt and traced the border of my scar. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  I covered her hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  She frowned and climbed off my body. While I lay naked on the sofa, she hurried to dress. “Yes, it was my fault.”

  I swung my feet to the floor and reached for my pants. While I pulled them up, I said, “This was your father’s fault. He sent me to prison. He had me stabbed.” Her face had gone pale. “I hate that you have to marry Sergei, but if he kills your father, I won’t hate it too bad.”

  Katya slipped on her shoes and walked to the other side of the room. “I need to tell you something.”

  I finished dressing and went to the bookshelf and opened the bar. I poured us each a shot of top-shelf vodka.

  “Is this where you tell me you seduced me to get my child inside of you? How the best way to get back at your father is to put a Wilde in the mix to inherit?”

  She looked appalled. “No, although no one would have to kill my father, he’d die from heart failure if
a Wilde stood to inherit his kingdom. Besides, if I carried your child, he’d kill me to get rid of us both.”

  Something feral rose up inside of me. “If you were carrying my child, I wouldn’t let him near you.”

  Her hand went to her stomach. “I’m not carrying your child. You’re safe.”

  I offered her a drink, and she moved close enough to take it, then moved back to safety across the room. Whatever she was going to tell me required distance.

  “What the hell do you want to tell me that requires this space between us?” I pointed between her and me.

  She brought the shot to her lips and tipped it back. A shudder raced down her body. “You are angry at my father for things he didn’t do.”

  I emptied my glass and slammed it on the desk. “Now you’re protecting him. He’s whoring you out. You owe him no loyalty.”

  Her head fell forward. “I just whored myself out to you because after what I tell you, you’ll never want to be with me again. You think marrying Sergei is the worst thing that will happen to me?”

  I tried to rise, but she held out her hand and shook her head. “Remember our kiss last night?”

  “It’s my second favorite memory with you, but nothing will top today. By the way, why did you tell me it was our second kiss?”

  She took in a long, deep breath that seemed to straighten her spine and pull back her shoulders. “Sergei kissed me to seal our arrangement. I didn’t want his lips on me, so I closed my eyes and pretended they were yours.” Her eyes glassed over, and a tear ran down her cheek. She swiped at it and continued.

  “Come here and let me kiss you again.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t because when I touch you, I realize how much I’ll be missing for the rest of my life. So, I’m going to make this easy for both of us. I’m going to tell you something that will make you hate me, and then I’m going to leave.”

  I know my expression showed my confusion. My forehead ached with the pressure from my scowl.

  “I got through prison thinking about you. I felt guilty each day I pictured you when I pleasured myself. You were supposed to be my brother’s wife. Nothing could make me hate you more than I hated myself.”

  She took a step forward but rocked back to her place against the wall. I’d give her the space she thought she needed until she was finished. Then I’d kiss the hell out of her so she’d remember what we shared until I could figure out a way to free her from her engagement. I glanced down at her hand. The bastard hadn’t even put a ring on her finger. That would have been the first thing I’d done.

  “Go on,” I said. “Try to make me hate you.”

  Her lips moved, but nothing came out. Her hand brushed through her hair. Long strands fell over her eyes when she looked down to the ground.

  “I called the feds. It was me who sent you to prison.”

  Before I knew it, I was out of my chair and had Katya pinned to the wall with my hand around her throat. Not hard enough to choke her, but enough to send the message that I could strangle the life out of her if I wanted.

  The floor fell out from under me. Everything I knew about that day was a lie. All the anger I harbored and the revenge I planned was misplaced. While I still hated Yuri and held him responsible for my father’s death, I hated his daughter more. “You ruined my damn life.”

  She pushed my hand away and sucked in a breath. “I saved your life.”

  I looked at the beautiful woman who rocked my world minutes ago and destroyed it seconds later. For years, her memory had soothed my pains and sorrows. I’d survived prison knowing I’d saved her from her father’s wrath. When Alex came to visit and told me he wasn’t marrying Katya, my hopes buoyed that maybe there could be some chance for us.

  I was no longer in the game, and she wanted out, but knowing she put me in the position to get me killed was unforgivable.

  I unlocked the door and swung it open. “I’m saving yours because if you don’t leave now, I might kill you myself.”

  She raced past me. A stunned Mrs. Price picked up the coffee she’d brought me and shoved it into my chest. It splashed my shirt, leaving a stain over my heart.

  Chapter 7

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. What the hell was I thinking? Somewhere in my head, I thought he’d understand. All I got out was I sent you to prison before his face turned to stone.

  Fine, I didn’t need him. I got exactly what I wanted, which was a moment in time to remember so when Sergei worked on getting a son, I could close my eyes and feel something different. Pretend it was someone else. Something told me I’d have to dig deep to make my body believe that what I felt would be Matt. Just the memory of him inside me gave me a shudder of pleasure despite the hurt that spread through me.

  As I walked through the casino to valet parking, my heart grew heavier with each step. I reminded myself that love didn’t exist. If it did, I would never survive. How could I when the thought of not seeing Matt hurt so much already?

  I waited for the kid who probably just got his driver’s license to bring my Mustang forward. The red convertible was hard to miss, its growl sounding out the frustration I couldn’t. I hopped inside and took off without thought to anyone around me. Entering the strip without a glance, I nearly collided with a delivery truck that would have no doubt killed the driver and probably me.

  I raced at twice the speed limit toward home. What did it matter whether I died? No one would care either way. Sergei might be the only one because he stood to lose something if I were gone.

  My father might rejoice. My brother wouldn’t care one way or the other. He hated me because our mother loved me. It wasn’t that she loved him less. She loved him differently. Being so much like our father, he was a constant reminder of the man she’d learned to loathe.

  I’d never given it much thought before today. Too young to understand the dynamics of the mafia, I had no idea if my mother was a pawn as well. Had she been given to my father as some kind of reward, or maybe a punishment? Had her father pissed someone off and was forced to sacrifice his daughter?

  In hindsight, it made sense for her to jump from the window. Two things became clear. She was miserable. Death was her best option.

  Maybe her death was a learning point for me. Would it be better to marry Sergei and suffer or run upstairs and take a header into the rose garden? As the daughter of a Russian mobster, killing myself was the only thing I could control.

  I pulled up to the front of our compound and waited for the security gate to open. The hinges creaked as it slowly swung forward. How funny that I had to wait to enter my prison. It was right then I decided I didn’t want to live like this anymore. I’d had one moment with Matt—one perfect moment. Our bodies came together. He stopped being a Wilde. I stopped being a Petrenko. We were just two people finding the joy of being together. An ache in my chest gripped my heart. And the reality of what happened on the couch in Matt’s office hit me.

  I hadn’t only had sex with him. I’d made love to him. There was no other reason for such pain to be in my heart. I’d fallen in love with Matt Wilde the day he saved me from my father. Now that he’d tossed me aside, there was no reason to continue my life of lies.

  I pulled my car into the end stall of the garage. Even the servant’s spaces were closer. It was a visual reminder of how I stacked up in the household. Dead last. Dead was the keyword.

  In the entry, Darya moved the feather duster across the iron rails of the staircase as I rushed past her.

  “Good afternoon, Katya.”

  “Is it?” I rushed to my room and shut the door. I wanted to crawl into bed and bury myself under the duvet, but I’d lose my courage to do what was necessary if I didn’t act now. Tomorrow held nothing for me. It would be another day like today, minus Matt. It would be unbearable.

  I picked up my laptop and scrubbed all the data from it. I left it open so if Matt decided to come for a visit, all he’d see was a room as empty as my soul. I looked around at the things I had. There was not
hing of importance that needed to be dealt with. Clothes and shoes had no value. The only things I cherished were memories of my mother, but those were gone too. My father made sure every hint of her was removed from the house. Everything but the last ribbon she’d put in my hair. I reached between the mattresses and pulled out the silky red strip. Frayed and worn, it had spent many nights wrapped around my hand as I cried for her.

  I tied it to my wrist as a symbol of our bond. She was with me at birth, and she’d be with me at death.

  I laid out the dress I hoped they’d bury me in and walked out of my room for the last time. I snuck across the hallway to my mother’s quarters. As a child, I never considered it odd that my parents had separate rooms, but now it made sense. She’d done her job. She’d given him a son. I’d been a bonus child—a spare not given an ounce of care from Yuri. I was almost twenty-five, and a quarter of a century was enough for me.

  I pulled the key from the flowerpot, slid it into the lock, and walked inside. I didn’t bother to close the door. Deep down, I wanted someone to come in and beg me not to do it, but I knew no one would. I opened the sliding glass door that led to the balcony.

  Mom’s roses were in full bloom, their sweet smell filling the air. I leaned over the edge. A rush of adrenaline pushed through my veins. The increased blood flow made my head spin. I could hear my heart in my ears. I climbed on top of the cement banister and let my legs dangle over the edge.

  Between my thumb and finger, I rubbed the ribbon and thought about my mother. “Will you be there waiting for me?” I whispered.

  I took a final glance around me. This seemed like the right decision. Love was real, but it was too painful to survive. I sat on the edge of the ledge and leaned forward. I knew once I released my hands, I’d topple off. I prayed it would be quick and painless.

  Just as my right hand released, a heart-wrenching scream came from downstairs. The sound was like a wounded animal—the wails a constant sound of anguish, disturbing because I recognized my father’s voice as he yelled at God. I looked down at the roses and wondered if I’d done it and only my soul remained to watch the outcome. Was my father mourning me? One pinch to my thigh confirmed I was still here.