Clinch (The Underground Book 2) (33 page)

“I’d rather live one night in your arms than ten thousand nights without you. There will never be someone else.” She didn’t realize the gravity of those words until they tumbled out of her mouth. She didn’t plan them or think about them beforehand. She simply spit out her feelings.

She held Leo’s gaze, both of them breathing hard. She didn’t blink for fear his expression would change for the worse or he would disappear. Her heart pounded. If he walked away from her…

“I’m not good for you.”

“You’re perfect for me.”

“Your mother will never accept me.”

“She’ll die lonely if that’s the case.”

His brow was furrowed, but he didn’t drop her gaze. “I’m in love with you.”

A tear escaped to run down her cheek. She lowered her ass onto her heels, unable to hold herself up any longer. Her shoulders relaxed. “I’m in love with you too.” Her words were soft, spoken slowly. Relief washed through her. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t said those words before, but repeating them now meant he’d surely changed his tune about leaving.

Leo closed the gap between them in two strides and lowered onto his knees in front of her to take her face in his hands. He stared hard at her eyes for several seconds. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

His hands shook. “I need to dominate you.”

“I need that too.” Her entire body shook, and not from the chill in the room but rather from the driving need to be consumed by this perfect man.

He stood, helping her to her feet in front of him. “As much as I like knowing you’re wearing that plug, let’s get it out. I have other plans for your sweet ass tonight.”

She flushed. It was new territory. But she knew Leo would take it slow and easy and make her writhe with desire before he took her there.

She was ready. She trusted him.

As he led her to the bed, she blew out a long breath.

There would be bumps in the road. A crazy Russian Mafia guy was clearly out to get her man, but they would weather it together.

Two weeks later…

“He’s here.”

Katie lifted her gaze to find Alena standing in her office doorway.

Leo sat on the loveseat on the wall opposite Katie’s desk.

She’d been staring at the strange blood results on the computer screen in front of her for hours, running her hands through her hair as she attempted to make sense of anything she looked at.

She no longer had samples of blood work from Dmitry. The three samples Ted had stolen were never recovered from his home, which meant he either hid them, took them to his lab, or gave them to Yenin somehow. But that didn’t matter. She had the other five guys’, Alena’s, and now Haley’s. The similarities and peculiarities were astounding. One of these days she would figure out what it all meant.

But not today. She smiled at Alena and nodded.

“Who’s here?” Leo asked, sitting up straighter.

“You’ll see,” Katie said.

Alena giggled and clapped her hands together before turning around to flounce away from the office and back down the hall, her long blonde curls floating down her back.

She’d been coming to the clinic nearly every day for a week. She had a lot to learn, but she was intelligent and eager and helpful. The shy woman Katie had met just weeks ago was coming out of her shell.

“Come on.” Katie pushed herself to standing and stepped around her desk. She grabbed Leo by the hand and hauled him to his feet.

He lifted a brow. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Too bad.”

He groaned. “Babe…”

“This is a good surprise. At least I hope so.”

She dragged him down the hallway and through the door to the waiting room at the front of the clinic. It was a Saturday afternoon. All the patients were gone. The only people still in the building were Katie, Leo, and Alena. And now Ivan. Alena had joined him out front, their backs to the door. They faced the tow truck.

“What the hell?” Leo asked.

Katie stopped, spun around, and grabbed him by the biceps. “I got you a gift.”

He groaned again and rolled his eyes. “I don’t want you to buy me things. We’ve been over this. It unmans me. I don’t care how much money you have in your trust fund, don’t use it on me.”

“This was an inexpensive gift.” She grinned up at him and lifted onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Come see.”

She spun back around, dragged him toward the front door, and pushed it open.

Leo gasped when he stepped around her and stared at the flatbed. He glanced down at her, a slow smile lifting at the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

He stepped forward, dropping her hand. “Where did you find this? A junk yard?”

“Maybe.” She bit her lower lip, praying he would like the beat-up, rusted, piece-of-shit Trans Am. It was the same year as the one he’d lost in the explosion.

She knew what the car meant to him and how much he enjoyed fixing it up and making it his. He could do it again. It would give him something to do rather than standing over her brooding about her safety at all hours of the day and night.

He rounded to the back side of the car and reached up to stroke it as if it were a prized, million-dollar possession instead of something that the older man she’d bought it from practically paid her to take out of his hands. It had been in his garage for two decades collecting dust. His own son abandoned it to go to college and never looked back.

Leo lifted his gaze, his smile huge. His eyes twinkled. She thought he might cry if he weren’t such a brute of a man.

Ivan chuckled and ducked back into the clinic with Alena.

“Come here, babe.” His voice was commanding.

She shuddered before she made her way around to his side of the flatbed. “Yeah?” She lifted her gaze.

Leo hauled her against his chest with one hand and kissed her soundly. “Best gift anyone ever got me.”

“You like it?” She smiled, relief washing over her. She hadn’t been sure. The entire idea could have as easily backfired on her.

He set his forehead against hers. “Love it. Almost as much as I love you.”

“Good, because you’re stuck with both of us, and it’s going to take you a long time to fix us both up to your liking.”

“The car maybe, but you’re perfect. What makes you think you need fixing?” He lifted one brow in question.

She shrugged. “You teach me something new every day. I learn more about your dominant side every time you look at me. I’ve got a ways to go, but I’m looking forward to learning more about your world—the dominant one and the fighting one. With a little patience, I’ll be the perfect submissive groupie in no time.”

He hugged her closer. “You’re already perfect. Now kiss me.”

She did. She kissed him with every ounce of her soul.

Becca Jameson lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two kids. After years of editing, she is now a full-time author. With over 40 best-selling books written, she has dabbled in a variety of genres, ranging from paranormal to contemporary to BDSM. The voices in her head are clamoring to get out faster than she can get them onto “paper”! She loves chatting with fans, so feel free to contact her through email, Facebook, or her website.

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Keep reading for a sneak peek of
Guard
, book 3 of this series releasing July 2016.

Haley Sullivan wrapped her arms around her pillow, inhaled deeply, and snuggled deeper under the covers. She needed more sleep. In fact, a heaviness settled over her as if she’d been up for days.

Light streamed through her bedroom window, causing her to see orange and pink through her eyelids. Why hadn’t she shut the curtains?

Every effort to go back to sleep failed. In fact, her mind started racing, filling with the events of the last few weeks of her life—events she’d completely forgotten during the first few seconds of lucidity.

A strange medical facility…

Being snatched off the street…

A giant Russian savior…

Shit
.

She bolted upright, blinking through the blinding light of day and brushing red curls from her face. Her heart raced as her gaze landed on Mikhail Dudko—the very Russian savior she’d just remembered—sitting on her desk chair just feet away.

He’d been leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, but when she sat up abruptly, he righted himself and frowned. “You okay?”

She swallowed, fisting the sheet in her lap with both hands. Finally, when she could breathe normally, she lowered her eyelids and found her voice. “How long was I asleep?”

“This time?” he teased. “Or altogether since I found you?” His English was perfect, but his Russian accent was sexy as hell.

She groaned and lowered onto her back to stare at the ceiling, tossing one forearm over her eyes to block the light.

Mikhail stood and crept closer. She could hear his every move, and his actions both excited and unnerved her. The man was unbelievably sexy—a fact she had been trying to ignore since the first moment she’d seen him.

Was it true that people could fall head over heels for someone as a result of an intense situation? Because if that was the case, she was doomed.

She hated to ask how many days had passed since she’d first laid eyes on this Russian god with the blond spiked hair and ice blue eyes. He reminded her of Thor. And to make matters worse, he was ripped and tall. Muscles bulged from everywhere. He stood about six five, she guessed, nearly a foot taller than her.

When the bed dipped next to her, she held her breath. Every time he got close, she lost the ability to communicate. And he always seemed to have more questions that demanded more interaction when he was in her space.

“If I keep putting off the FBI agent, she’s going to think I’m holding you hostage in your apartment,” he began. “Do you think she could come by this morning and speak to you?”

Haley lowered her arm and met his gaze. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Good, because she’ll be here in about forty-five minutes.” He shrugged. “I was out of excuses.”

Haley rolled her eyes. “Great…” She squirmed from under the covers to climb out of bed on the opposite side. “I’ll take a shower. Can you make coffee?”

He smiled. “Consider it done.”

She glanced down at her attire, noting the loose boxers and tank top she liked to sleep in, crossed her arms over her chest, and took a step forward.

Whoa. She reached out to steady herself against the mattress. She was weak and wobbly. Her arms shook.

“I think you need food too. I don’t know what you weighed before I met you, but you’ve lost weight in the last few days. I hope you can stay awake today and eat like six times.”

“Food,” she mumbled as she padded from the room. Her ability to eat still felt a little uncertain. Leaving Mikhail sitting on her bed, she slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.

On a long exhale, she flipped on the shower to let the water heat up.

And then she turned to face the mirror. Her eyes widened in horror. Her auburn curls hung in limp disarray around her face and shoulders. She had on no makeup, and every freckle she had stood out like a sore thumb against her unusually pale skin.

She’d been white her entire life, but this new lack of color from two weeks of lying drugged in some sort of lab was an all-time low.

Her cheeks were hollow.

Jerking her gaze away from the mirror, she shed her clothes, dropped them in the hamper, and stepped into the shower. The spray of hot water running over her head and down her body made her moan. It felt like heaven.

Forty-five minutes was not going to be enough time. She could easily stand under the cascade of water far longer than that in an attempt to wash away the last two weeks of hell. But it wasn’t an option.

She understood the FBI’s persistence. Hell, she didn’t want anyone else kidnapped from the street and held against their will either. She needed to describe everything that had happened to her as precisely as possible to aid the investigation.

After washing her hair twice and conditioning it for long minutes while she shaved, she reluctantly flipped off the water and wrapped herself in a giant fluffy towel.

Towels were one of her few luxuries. Her crazy hippy parents had rarely invested in anything of high quality. Though she loved them to pieces, she’d spent her entire childhood drying off on rough terrycloth rectangles that didn’t reach around her body. In a fit of rebellion, that was the one thing she didn’t carry over into adulthood.

Shit.

She hadn’t brought anything clean to put on in the bathroom. The tiny space was completely steamed over too. But it couldn’t be helped. She decided to fix herself from the neck up anyway and worry about clothes afterward.

Tucking the towel around her securely, she grabbed her hair dryer and went to work. By the time she had her curls tamed into manageable waves, her hair was nearly twice as long as it had been in its kinky state.

After wiping off a section of the mirror, she went to work with foundation, mascara, blush, and lip gloss.

Why the hell was she going to so much trouble? She didn’t normally put quite that much effort into herself just to work at the homeless shelter.

But then again, normally there wasn’t a Nordic god in her apartment.

Satisfied with her appearance, she held the towel securely around her and opened the door to step out into the hall. She quickly slipped around the corner and back into her bedroom, hoping not to encounter Mikhail before she could get dressed.

That hope dissipated when she found him standing at her bedroom window, staring outside.

She stopped moving. From behind, he was even more delicious than from the front. Maybe.

His ass, encased in perfect-fitting jeans, was firm and muscular. His waist was a relatively narrow V that spread up to encompass his broad back and broader shoulders. The black T-shirt he wore hugged him in all the right places, making her lick her lips as she stared.