Twilight Sins (Kulikov Bratva Book 1)

I’m getting emotional whiplash from how fast things are moving. Just a few hours after he suggested the idea, Yakov and I are tucked into an alcove of the prettiest restaurant I’ve ever seen.

Private nooks line the main dining room, each one set apart by an archway covered in trailing vines, delicate white flowers, and flickering candlelight. Large windows at the back of each alcove offer a view of the city below, the streets like black waterways full of glowing fish.

Toto, we’re not at Olive Garden anymore.

“This doesn’t seem like the kind of place that does spaghetti and meatballs,” I whisper.

Yakov shifts closer, his knee pressing against my thigh. “If you’re hoping I’ll slurp up the same noodle as you so we can meet in the middle for a kiss, I’d suggest the lemon ricotta linguine.”

Unless there’s an X-rated version of The Lady and The Tramp floating around out there that I don’t know about, I don’t think a plate of pasta is going to lead to what I’m hoping for.

“If memory serves, you’re the one who had to trick me into our first date, Sergey.”

He runs a finger over the rim of his glass. “I didn’t have to trick you into an orgasm, though.”

Yakov lets his eyes linger on me and I might as well slip the thin straps of my red dress off and let it puddle around my waist, because that’s where we’re inevitably gonna end up tonight. My skin is burning. We haven’t even made it through appetizers and I’m ready for dessert.

I shift in my chair, crossing and uncrossing my legs. I try to pretend I’m reading my menu, but my eyes keep slipping up to sneak glances at Yakov. He’s in a forest green knit shirt that might as well be a sign demanding that everyone he meets must gaze lovingly into his matching green eyes. The blazer thrown over top emphasizes the broad sweep of his shoulders and the natural taper of his waist. He looks good.

Good enough that I have to keep reminding myself this isn’t a real date, no matter how much it may feel like one. He’s only here to earn brownie points with Mariya.

I’m in the middle of waxing quixotic about the many virtues of his square jaw when he suddenly looks up at me.

“Luna?”

I blink. “Yes?”

“She asked what you’d like to order.”

His throat shifts with every word. I’ve never seen an attractive neck before, but here it is. “Who?”

He arches a brow and sighs. “My date will have the lemon ricotta linguine and the beef braciole.”

I peel my eyes away from him to see our waitress is standing next to the table. While I’ve been undressing Yakov with my eyes, the waitress has been looking at me like she might need to have the chef pre-cut my food in the kitchen and remove any sharp utensils from my reach. I can’t even blame her.

As soon as she’s gone, I duck my head. “I didn’t see her walk over.”

“It’s hard to see anything when you’re busy shamelessly eye-fucking me.”

My face burns, but I pray the soft candlelight hides the evidence. “I was not… doing that. Someone sure thinks a lot of himself.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Yakov is pure amusement. I haven’t seen him this breezy in… well, since our first date.

When we first walked into the restaurant, he kept a hand on my lower back. His head swiveled from side to side, searching every shadowy corner for threats. I could feel the tension rippling off of him like a force field.

The longer we’ve sat here, though, the more relaxed he’s become. It could be because of the wine, but I don’t think so. Yakov can hold his liquor just fine. This is something else.

“Is this what you’re like when you’re off-duty?” I ask.

“I’m never off-duty.”

“But this is the way you were the night we met. I’m remembering all over again why I agreed to go home with a stranger.” I note the way he’s leaned back in his chair, an elbow resting on the table. “You seem relaxed.”

“It’s easy to be relaxed when I know you’re safe.”

My heart squeezes. “I’m safe here?”

He nods once. “You’re with me, Luna. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

This isn’t a real date. I repeat the words to myself over and over again, but they just won’t take. Not when he’s looking at me like I’m his favorite thing on the menu.

I clear my throat. “So are things with you and Mariya better than they were this afternoon?”

“If you think her not talking to me is better than yelling, then sure. Much better.”

It could be my imagination, but it almost seems like he had to blink back to reality. Like he was in the same good-date haze that I was just lost in.

“What did she say when you told her we were going out?”

He frowns. “I didn’t tell her anything. Mariya doesn’t need to know about my dating life.”

“But… I thought…” My chest tightens. I have to swallow around the pesky hope lodged there. “We’re here because she suggested it, right? She wanted you to take me out of the house.”

Yakov’s brow knits for just a second. It’s one fleeting peek at what’s going on under his surface. “I can tell her about it later.”

I want things to get better between Yakov and Mariya. They both need each other, whether they realize it or not. I want them to build some bridges and get over them, all of that.

But I find myself hoping Yakov won’t tell Mariya about tonight.

I want this to be for us and us alone.

Yakov climbs out of the car and walks around to open my door. He holds out his hand and I place my fingers against his palm.

“Thank you.” I dip my head regally as he helps me out and he pulls my fingers to his lips for a quick kiss.

I feel the brush of his lips all the way down in my toes. The only reason I move out of the way of the closing door is because Yakov pulls me forward. I stumble against his muscled chest.

“Too much wine,” I mumble, balancing on my heels.

“Are you drunk, solnyshka?” He cups my cheek in his hand.

I shake my head slowly. “No. Not at all.”

His eyes burn into mine and it’s this intoxicating thing between us more than any wine in my system that has me spouting every thought in my head with no filter in sight.

“Our date redo was really fun.”

“Date redo,” he repeats. His fingers twirl around a strand of my hair. The tension makes me dizzy.

“You know, a date where I don’t think you’re someone else for the first half.”

“It was just my name,” he murmurs. “I was still being myself.”

He says it like it’s simple. Like I haven’t the faintest idea who the real Yakov Kulikov is. Like it’s even possible to know who the real Yakov Kulikov is.

“Fine. Then it was nice to go on a date where no mysterious threat forced you to take me home at the end of the night,” I continue.

Yakov’s hand slides down my hair and wraps around my waist. One quick tug and I’m flush against him, looking up into the shadowed planes of his face.

“No one forced me to do anything,” he snarls. “I could have let you walk out of the restaurant that night and face your fate. I didn’t. I chose to save you—because I wanted to.”

I want to just nod and move on. Keep things light and airy and fun. But I can’t let this go.

“I’m grateful for that,” I say. “I’m just also grateful that, tonight, I’m not standing here because you had to make an on-the-fly decision to save my life.”

Yakov growls. “You’re going to make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“Admit that I could have sent you to a safehouse that night.” His eyes flash. “I could have sent you to any of a dozen different apartments I have in the city. A Swiss villa. A hotel room with guards stationed outside would have done the trick. I could have kept you safe and far, far away from me. But I choose to bring you to my mansion. To keep you close.” His hand curves around my neck. “I don’t want a date redo, Luna. I don’t need one. This thing between us happened the way it was always supposed to.”

I’m afraid to breathe, to blink. I’m afraid that the slightest movement will shatter this moment into a million tiny pieces.

“Do you hear me?” he asks.

I manage a slow, even nod.

Then Yakov turns away and unlocks the front door.

He leads me inside and doesn’t break pace even as we pass the kitchen and he asks, “Do you want a drink?”

I shake my head. There’s only one thing I want.

Both of us know where this is going. I can tell by the tight hold he has on my hand that he’s as eager to get there as I am.

The bedroom door closes and Yakov has me pressed against it before my eyes can adjust to the darkness. He has one hand against my lower back, the other flat against the door frame. I’m caged in by him and it still isn’t enough.

“I had a nice time tonight,” I whisper.

Yakov gives me a slow, liquid smile. “Solnyshka… we’re just getting started.”

Like everything else tonight, the kiss is easy. It’s slow and tender. Yakov parts my lips with his tongue and sucks on my lower lip.

He tugs on the zipper along my spine until my dress peels free. For once, I’m not even self-conscious. I’m glad to get rid of another layer between us. As soon as my arms are out, I slide my hands under the lapels of his jacket and push it off of him. His shirt comes next. Before it’s even over his head, I lean forward and press a kiss to his chest.

“You smell like rain,” I breathe between kisses. “And wood. And spices.”

He chuckles, but the sound cuts off when I unzip his pants and drop to my knees. He’s already hard when I wrap my hand around his base and take him into my mouth.

“Fuck.” The door thuds against the frame as he braces himself against it.

I circle my tongue around him. Then I swallow him down. I take him until my nose presses to the base of his stomach.

His hand fists in my hair. “You and this mouth of yours, solnyshka.”

I slide away and take him again. My fingers dig into the muscles of his thighs as he flexes. His hips shift forward slightly, pulsing as he groans.

There can’t be any better feeling than the one I get bringing this powerful man to the brink.

My dress is pooled around my legs. Without taking him out of my mouth, I work the material down my body so I’m in nothing but my panties.

“Beautiful.” Yakov is looking down at me. He curves his hand around my cheek and lower, palming my throat. “Fucking beautiful.”

He thrusts faster and faster into my mouth. I’d be more than happy to let him finish like this. I want to drive him right over the edge.

But Yakov pops out of my mouth suddenly. He scoops me under the arms and stands me up. For some reason, I’m the one with shaky legs.

“One day, I’m going to finish in that pretty mouth of yours.” He kisses me deep, dipping me back, his tongue sweeping into my mouth until I’m panting. Then he backs me towards the bed. “But tonight, I need your mouth free so I can hear you moan when I fuck you to within an inch of your life.”

My body is practically vibrating with need. Every place we aren’t touching aches.

A smile curves across his mouth before it disappears between my legs.

I’m already swollen and pulsing. Every press of his tongue is like a jolt of electricity up my spine. I buck and writhe under his mouth until he bands a strong arm over my hips. “Take it like a good girl, Luna.”

He holds me down and licks me in long, decadent strokes. The electricity settles. Instead, it’s a fire growing in my belly. He circles my clit with his mouth, lapping the swollen bud until the heat is too big for my body.

I curl my fingers through his silky hair and grind my hips against his mouth. “No,” I moan, tugging on his hair. “I want to feel you. I can’t—I need you inside of me.”

He circles his thumb over my aching center and smiles. “I will be. But you have to earn it. Now, be my obedient little princess and make a mess of my face first.”

He devours me, his tongue driving deep inside of me until, sure enough, I don’t have a choice. I explode. I arch off the bed and fist the comforter. My body twists as he laps me up, groaning along with me.

When he’s done, Yakov kisses his way up my body to my mouth. Like he ordered me to do, I’ve made a complete and total mess of his face. His lips and jaw are slicked with my juices, shining in the light. I’d be embarrassed—but then his tongue flickers out and licks his lips clean and instead, I melt into a puddle of need.

I scramble for his cock, but he lifts himself just out of reach. “You’re trying to make me rush,” he accuses.

“You’re the one who said we have time. That means we can do this now and later. As many times as we want.”

Yakov drops his forehead to mine. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Then show me.”

His eyes flare just before he lowers his hips and parts me with a slow, persistent push.

I scrape my nails down his back and take him. He fills me and fills me until I’m positive I can’t take anymore. Then he slips deeper.

“I fucking dream about being right here, buried inside of you.”

I haven’t allowed myself to hope for more where Yakov is concerned. But when he says things like that, it’s impossible not to fall into dangerous daydreams. I kiss his shoulder as he thrusts into me, drawing out slowly and driving home again and again.

I spread my legs wider. I wrap them around his back, whimpering with each thrust. I want to be his princess, his good girl, his obedient little slut.

“Those sounds you make.” His teeth scrape over where my pulse pounds in my throat. “I love knowing they’re for me. Because of what I do to you.”

I wrap myself around him and hold. I don’t want this moment to end.

He pounds me deeper into the mattress, his cock and his words coaxing feelings out of me I don’t know what to do with. I somehow manage to keep my wits enough to remember that we aren’t alone in the house, so I seal my mouth against his shoulder and cry out against the heat of his skin.

Yakov’s fingers bite into my hips. “Come around me, Luna. Come now. I want to feel you around my⁠—”

His words cut off as blinding heat tears through me. I’m writhing and arching off the bed, clawing at his back to bring him closer, to take more.

He dissolves into broken, rasping Russian.

I can’t open my eyes even as Yakov kisses my throat and empties himself inside of me. Even when he rolls me onto my side and curls behind me, I can’t bear to say a word and risk breaking the spell.

So I tuck myself against his body and fall asleep in this dream.