Clubs: The Suit’s Book 2

Shortly after Mikhail spoke with Dimitri, he was there to pick me up. We drove in silence for what felt like an eternity.

I stand in the foyer of the house, which has a modern touch, while Dimitri grabs my things from the car. He’s different from what I’m familiar with. He almost looks irritated, but I’m not the kind of person to make his burdens mine as well.

“There are many rooms in the house. Pick one,” he demands with a strong voice.

I give him a look and take my bag from his hands.

He lets out a huff when I turn my back and head up the stairs. Every wall in this house is painted white with no art. It’s very bland . . . It’s very Mikhail.

The stairs are split into two levels with panels leading up the sides, and the floorboards are a light shade of wood in a patterned design.

The door handles and chandelier are black—they complement the white. Up the hallway, the lights are dimmed, and I walk on an aged red carpet.

I open the door at the end of the hallway and step into a dark room. Flipping on the light, I see a large bed in the center of the room and two chairs by a curved wall filled with windows.

There’s a large walk-in closet and a bathroom with a shower that’s just as large.

I throw my bag on the bed and make my way back down the stairs. I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I tried. Adrenaline flows through my blood.

My mind runs in circles as I try to relive what happened tonight. It was the most fun I’ve ever had, even if it was with a man who probably wants me dead.

His friend, Max, seems like a genuine guy. He wears an expression of pain on his face like an accessory, but he smiles brightly with his eyes.

Stepping down the stairs, I walk into the living room. I turn on the TV, putting on Russian subtitles while I pull a blanket up to my chin and crumple a pillow under my head.

My eyes begin to feel scratchy from lack of sleep, but I open them wide when I see Mikhail leaning against the wall staring at me.

“You know . . . that’s a little creepy,” I say, exhausted.

He looks down and shakes his head, trying to fight the smile that tugs on his lips. “What’re you doing out here? It’s one in the morning.”

“Watching TV. You have eyes, don’t you?”

“Kroshka,” he warns.

I choose to ignore him because he isn’t calling me by my name. He nods at the realization and pushes off the wall. He takes a seat next to me, lifting my legs onto his lap. Pushing the blanket off my feet, he takes his thumbs and kneads the bottom of my heel. I didn’t realize how sore my feet were from dancing tonight, but why is he doing this? Mikhail isn’t the sort of kind person who thinks about other people’s pain before his own.

He doesn’t give; he only takes. So what is this?

My arms lift above my head while I enjoy the massage for as long as it’ll last. I don’t want to take his kindness for granted.

“Sloane.” He calls my name.

“Yeah?” I ask, keeping my eyes directed on him with purpose.

His jaw clenches and he looks over at me with his head tilted. “Was tonight your first night out?”

I think about all the times I’ve left the house before now, only to realize I’ve only left to go to my brother’s matches. If it weren’t for Ruslan, I never would have left the house. But I’m glad I did. While I might be here, I’m glad I don’t feel claustrophobic anymore.

“Well, besides going to the ring with my brother, yes.”

“And did you enjoy yourself?” His eyes glisten under the soft light.

“I think I did, yeah. What did we even go there for?”

He takes out a small orange envelope from his pocket and waves it in the air effortlessly. “Was it Max who gave you that?” I ask.

He nods. “When I first arrived.”

A look of shock covers my face. “I don’t even remember that. What’s in it?”

It’s as if my question offends him in a way. The smug smile that once spoke of his emotion is washed away as if it never existed. He reaches across the table and takes his drink into his hand. I become impatient when he ignores me for a while.

“Normally, when someone asks a question, you’re supposed to answer them. Why aren’t you answering me?”

His thumb traces circles on my thigh. “Why the hell are you talking so much?” he asks with a deep, alluring voice and leaves to go into the kitchen.

I flip him the bird. He deserves it.

Mikhail has no reason to be a dick about anything, but he is. If he wants to get angry about nothing, I can too.

“This house is made of reflections, Sloane. You’d be better off showing me the finger behind closed doors if you don’t want to deal with the consequences of your actions,” he says with his back to me.

The nerve this man has drives me insane. I sit up from the couch and inch my legs closer to my chest. “You know, some day you’ll go far in life, and I hope you stay there.”

His head falls back, and he sets his glass on the counter with a heavy hand. “Come over here and tell that to me again.”

I bite my tongue and stand up from the couch to make my way over to him. Does he think I won’t do it?

He turns to face me and lifts his chin. As I stand in front of him, I can’t help but feel beneath him. He walks around with an aura that screams he is superior.

I straighten my back with my teeth clenched. He looks down at me as if I am nothing. “You want to say that again, Kroshka?” he asks while his lip lifts in amusement.

My mouth opens to repeat myself like he’s telling me to, but he quickly puts his hand over my lips and leans in closer. My breathing picks up by the simple touch of his skin on mine.

“Jesus, how many times do you need to learn the same lesson, Sloane?” He steps even closer to me, bringing his mouth close to his hand. “I can teach it to you as many times as you’d like, but I don’t think you’ll keep up.” Slowly, he takes his hand off my mouth, and I stumble forward when I feel his touch leave mine.

He turns on his heel to leave but stops when I mumble, “It’s not like you’ve really even got far.”

His head turns slightly. “If you expect to be heard, you shouldn’t mumble.”

I clear my throat and shove past him, knocking into his shoulder. “I don’t need to be heard.”

He grabs me from the back of my neck and pulls me against his body. The heat of his body warms mine. His hand snakes around the front of my neck and his arm holds my core still.

I try my hardest to get my breathing under control because I don’t want him to know I’m nervous, but it’s useless. As much as I want to, I can’t ignore what my body does when he touches me. I hate that I react to him, but I hate that I like it even more.

His fingers dig into my hips, and he lifts me onto the counter. Warmth spreads through me, and I immediately stiffen at his touch.

What the hell is he doing?

“What are you doing?” I ask him. His eyes pierce mine with desire . . . with need. His eyes don’t leave mine. It’s as if he enjoys seeing me weaken against his touch. My legs move apart when he steps between them.

His hands hold my face, and he pulls down on my bottom lip. “Something I shouldn’t,” he says on a worn-out breath of air, and I feel my heart in my throat.

Something flashes in his eyes as he looks down at my body pressed against his. His head falls back when he looks at me, and his Adam’s apple rolls in his throat. His jaw hardens as he looks down at my lips. He’s obviously conflicted about whether he should tell me what he’s thinking.

“It’s not real.”

“What are you talking about, Mikhail?” My chest burns.

His fingers trail down my chest to my stomach. I chose a bad day to wear this silk robe—it doesn’t hide anything. He can probably see my nipples hardening even though he’s hardly touched me. He gathers my wet hair and pulls my head back. His lips touch my neck, and I let out a bitter noise.

The moment I feel his warm tongue trail my skin I lose control.

“Na vkus ti takzhe sladka kak na zapah,” he breathes. You taste as sweet as you smell.

I want to melt into his touch, which is beyond me. Chills run through my skin, and my stomach feels like it’s turning. I can’t tell whether this is a good feeling or not.

His fingers untie the rope that holds my robe closed. My hands quickly move to his and I hold them still.

“No. Someone will see,” I whisper in his ear. His men come and go all the time on the boat—what makes him think it’ll be any different here?

He wraps my hair around his hand twice and curses under his breath. “Let them watch,” he whispers back with lust marring his judgment. The strings fall open and my body becomes exposed in front of the man I’ve come to fear.

He grabs my chin and forces my attention to him. His eyes burn with lust as he looks at my lips. I feel my cheek burn from his glare, but this time it’s in a good way.

Does he want to kiss me? Should I kiss him back?

He shakes his head while looking at my naked body against his, and his tongue rolls over his bottom lip as he takes in the sight.

“You lied to me,” I insist with a small, cheeky grin.

His free hand cups my breast, his finger brushing over my nipple. “Kak?” he asks. How?

“You do want me,” I admit hesitantly.

“Glaza na menya,” he demands. Eyes on me.

His fingers trail up the length of my arm and down my side, taking the robe off completely, and I watch him do it. I watch every move he makes because that’s what he’s asking of me, and I damn well enjoy doing it.

The only words he says to me are in Russian.

He takes my nipple in his mouth and bites down gently. I suck in a sharp breath while he sucks on it. I feel like I’m about to fall over the edge already and he’s hardly touched me. My legs tighten around his waist, and I pull him closer to me. I’ve never had anyone touch me like this before. I never thought my body was capable of feeling this way from another person’s touch. It’s intense. Need flutters in my stomach as if there are two butterflies fighting inside.

His fingers snake down my body and push my underwear to the side. A part of me wants him to stop while another part begs for more.

His hand wraps around my thigh, gripping it tightly, and he moves my legs over his shoulders. I know exactly what he’s about to do, and I’m nervous. I’ve never had anyone go down on me before. I’ve never had anyone this eager to taste me.

“Smotri shto ti delayesh so mno.” Look at what you’re doing to me.

“Mikhail, this is wrong,” I blurt.

But the moment his wet tongue touches my clit, I forget everything bothering me altogether. My back arches, and I’m unable to control my body’s reaction to the way his tongue roams freely. He swears under his breath and groans, the mere sound turning me on even more, which I didn’t think was possible.

I reach my hands down and place them on his head. I want to pull him closer to me. I want his body to smother mine.

What Mikhail and I are doing is too intimate. There’s no way in hell my first of anything is going to be with my captor, but I’ve already let it happen. His lips are on my clit, and I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to.

Bringing my hand over my mouth, I try to cover my whimpers. He grabs them and holds them down to the sides of my body so I’m unable to move them.

“Let me know how I make you feel, Kroshka,” he grumbles with eagerness in his voice.

“Oh my God,” I moan.

Mikhail shoves a finger into me, and that’s when I fall over the edge. My body throbs with pleasure, a sense of euphoria given to me from a man I never expected. He pushes my legs to the side, only furthering the feeling he’s giving me.

Without a chance to gather myself, Mikhail pulls me up from the countertop and wraps the robe around me. He lifts his weight from me and licks his fingers. My head falls back at the sight of him.

He likes how I taste.

He ties the strings in a bow again as if I’m a present waiting to be unwrapped. His arms trail down mine, fingertips sliding gently over my soft skin. “Run along,” he says lifting me down.

I gather up all my things and do as he says.