“I cried today,” she said, clearly unsure what that meant.
“Kazhdaja snezhinka—eto sleza rebenka okutannaja vechnim ljdom,” he told her. “My mother’s words.”
She smiled fleetingly but then it disappeared. “I have not heard you speak of your mother.”
He shrugged and sat up, putting a pillow behind him and then scooping her up and placing her on his lap. He covered them both, but his hands roved. She didn’t stop him and he considered that progress. “My mother disappeared at the same time my sisters did. My father searched for them and when I turned eighteen I did the same. There was never a trace until I began to hear about The Collective, knew that they operated with the help of the Bratva, but when I questioned my father he denied any knowledge of them.”
“Was she nice? Mean? Tell me of her,” she pushed gently for the information but her body was still and she seemed on edge.
“She was a woman under the constraints of four small children. I remember her singing the lullaby you used to sing to Ninka and I remember her making sugared apricots. She seemed to prefer Ninka to the rest of us. Other than that I don’t remember her being particularly loving or gentle with my sisters and she would often say that children should be seen and not heard. She would yell that at Alexander and me. She was a hard worker, tough but I remember not much else about her. Alexander and I were boys, not to be bothered crawling around our mother’s apron strings.”
She rested her head on his right shoulder and her hand stroked up and down his chest. He loved it, the feel of her tiny hands on his body right.
“My father, brother, and I had been out hunting for an entire week and when we returned, the doors had been knocked down, our house ransacked and my mother and sisters gone. I remember my father was furious. Alexander and I were just scared.”
“That is all you remember about her?”
“Yes, why?”
“My own mother was no example of how it’s done right, and I always wonder about other people—did they have their own Dinah Ramler? Or were they lucky enough to have a January Cleaver?”
He barked out a laugh. “June.”
“Huh?”
“It was June Cleaver,” he told her lifting her chin and placing a light kiss on her lips.
“See, I know so little about good mothers, I can’t even get that venerated American example of motherhood correct.”
“You are searching for information. What is on your mind?” he asked her pointedly, trying to ignore the chill in his blood.
She met his gaze. “I want to know all things about you. It is an upsetting discovery and not one I understand. If you’re going to question me about my motives, we can end this.”
Bone made to get up and he halted her, holding her hips tightly and nuzzling her neck.
“I have searched for her out of duty. I’m sure I loved her and looking back she was a decent mother, if a bit distant. There, I answered your questions.” He grinned at her.
She frowned.
He kissed her and it turned hot quickly.
He turned her so she straddled him, his cock hard and jutting between them.
“Kiss me,” he demanded.
She glared at him but eventually she did as he’d demanded. She licked his lips and rolled her hips, the wetness of her * coating the length of his cock in her warmth. His woman was tentative at first and he allowed her to play a while before he became more aggressive. That slow roll thing she did with her hips was stealing his mind. He ground his teeth against the softness of her skin under his palms, the smell of her in his nostrils and the tightness of her clutch so close to his cock. He gave her time to explore and when he could take it no longer he teased her, using his thumb to bring her over before he tapped her hips and she rose.
He placed his cock at her juncture and she impaled herself on him. She was a fast learner and she rode him slowly, thoroughly, lifting up and coming back down slow to grind herself on him. The flex and play of her body would be forever emblazoned in his mind. The ecstasy she stirred with her movements would be something he craved the rest of his life.
She ignored his demand for a kiss and he did not try to force it realizing it might be too much right now. He wrapped an arm around her back and lowered his head instead to her breasts, plumping and suckling the globes until her movements became faster and faster.
The pull of her internal muscles became more than he could bear and by the time she exploded in his arms he was begging her to finish him off. She did and then she gave him her sweet mouth.
He laid them down, side by side but facing each other. Fatigue tugged at him, and he wrapped a hand in her hair to secure her to him. He would never admit to the fear, but he was afraid she would leave him while he slept.
It was what Arrow and Bullet had both done and Dmitry knew Bone had more work to do in Russia.
“Just a little longer, Bone,” he pleaded sleepily.
She snuggled into him and his heart clicked into place before the darkness took him.
Chapter Twelve