Chapter 164 164

Chapter 164 164
I nod. “You did what you had to do.”

“Did I?” she asks. “I could have injured him without killing him. That’s what I should have done.”

“Esme—”

“I stabbed him until I killed him,” she continues. “And even after he was dead, I kept stabbing.”

“You were in shock.”

“I knew what I was doing. I could have stopped.”

“You were protecting me,” I say, leaning forward and taking her hand. “You were protecting our baby.”

Her sob escapes through her teeth and she shakes her head. “I keep seeing his eyes. The way they looked just before he died…”

“Is that what you were dreaming about?”

She nods. “You knew him?” she asks in a shuddering voice.

I get the feeling why she’s asking. “A little,” I acknowledge.

“Did he have a family?”

I squeeze her hand. “Will it help you to know that?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Probably not,” she admits. “But I want to know all the same.”

She waits for my answer.

But I know that the truth will only hurt her. It will double her guilt and invite in more nightmares that she doesn’t need.

I think about my child growing inside her and all the stress my world has already put on her and the pregnancy.

This baby has to be okay.

I can’t do this again.

“Yes,” I say. “Mischa has a wife. And two children.”

She sucks in her breath, her eyes flooding with regret already.

“And you did them a favor by killing him,” I finish, before she can spiral out.

“What?” she asks, her eyes going wide.

“He was a brutal man at work and at home,” I lie smoothly. “His family won’t miss him.”

She takes that in for a moment and nods slowly. “But I still feel guilty,” she says.

“That’s because you’re a good person,” I tell her. “You have a conscience, which is a quality that precious few people have in my world.”

I feel her fingers twitch beneath mine. “Doesn’t that include you?”

“I have a conscience,” I tell her. “I’ve just learned to ignore it. It’s the only way to survive this life.”

“Do you remember the first time you killed a man?”

I nod. “It was on my first cartel raid,” I say. “We had a spy in our ranks who was playing informant to a rival cartel. We stormed their meeting, killed their men, and caught the spy who had turned against us. Stanislav had him strung up by the wrists and he put a knife in my hand.”

Esme listens silently. For a moment, I think she’s about to draw away from me, but she only moves closer.

“Everyone was watching. My father, my uncle, all the men,” I continue. “That knife felt so fucking heavy in my hand. It might as well have been a sword.”

“I tried to be confident. I tried not to feel anything. But when I looked up into his face, all my reasons for killing him seemed… inconsequential. It didn’t matter that he deserved it. It didn’t matter that he had betrayed us and caused the deaths of so many of our men. I saw his eyes, wide and fearful, and I hesitated.”

I pause, taking a breath. It’s been a very long time since I’ve re-lived this memory.

“He looked at me and begged me for his life. I knew better than to think I had any power to grant it to him. I stabbed him in the chest first, but he didn’t die on the spot like I’d intended.”

The night is cool and still. Nothing moves or makes a sound in the desert.

“He struggled and screamed and prayed, and I panicked. The more he screamed, the more I stabbed him. I didn’t stop until he wasn’t screaming anymore.”

When I look at her, Esme has tears sparkling in her eyes. She leans in even closer and rests her cheek against my arm.

“I was fourteen,” I finish.

She sucks in a sharp breath. “Fourteen,” she murmurs in shock.

I nod. “The more you kill, the less you feel. It’s the only way you can continue.”

Esme shakes her head gently. “Killing is not something I ever want to get used to.”

“Nor would I want that for you,” I tell her. “But when someone tries to hurt you, you have to defend yourself. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t feel guilty about protecting yourself,” I say firmly. “Don’t give them that kind of power over you. They will take advantage of it.”

She nods slowly, pushing back her tears. She looks stronger somehow, as though hearing my story has helped give her closure.

“Thank you,” she says. “For sharing that with me.”

I lean down and kiss her forehead gently. She turns her face up as her lips seek mine out.

To my surprise, there’s heat in the kiss when our lips meet. A certain understanding that’s cemented itself between us in the last hour.

Not pure passion, like it’s been every time before. Not just fire and lust.

Something more. Something deeper. Something more solid and real.

Her hands reach up to hold my neck. I grab her around the waist and pull her onto my lap so that she’s straddling me.

The moment she’s on me, my cock turns rocks hard and she grinds on it softly while my fingers twist into her hair.

I part her lips with my tongue and push inside of her, desperate for her sweetness, desperate to lose myself in her body. She whimpers and writhes against me.

I pull off her shirt and throw it to the side of the car, before I spread her out against the air mattress.

Her fingers rake over my shirt, pushing it off me. Then I pull of my pants and boxers and settle over her, my fingers twisting into the waistband of her panties. She raises her hips for me and I pull them off her slowly, my eyes lingering on her pussy.

Once she’s as naked as I am, I settle over her again.

Our bodies fuse together.

Her skin feels like silk. I bend my head down to her breasts and kiss them gently while her hands trace patterns on my back.

She parts her legs for me and I can feel my cock press against her slit. She’s slick with want already and I fucking love that I can do that to her. That she can do that for me.

She raises her hips just a little, but I don’t enter her yet. I cup her breasts with one hand and suck the hard nipple that sticks out at me.

I do the same for the other. When both are wet and taut, I pull myself up a little and start kissing her deeply. My hand snakes down between her thighs and I push two fingers inside her, exploring her depths and priming her for my cock.

Esme shudders against my fingers. Her nails dig into my back. They urge me deeper.

“Artem,” she gasps, as my fingers rub her clit and massage it slowly. “Artem, please… I want you inside me.”

No man can resist those fucking words.

I pull my fingers out of her and replace them with my cock. I slide into her smoothly, but she still gasps from the pressure of being joined with me.

She’s so wet that it hastens my own orgasm, but I want to draw this out. I play with her nipples as I lose myself in her moist depths.

When I feel myself on the brink of coming, I pull out and turn her on her side. Then I press my body against her and enter her from behind. Her ass works against my hips, a steady wind that tests my resistance with each stroke.

I reach over her body and start playing with her clit. She arches her head back into my chest. Her soft, downy hair brushes over my skin as she moans to climax.

Seconds later, I feel little bursts and whimpers as she explodes on my cock.

“Come with me,” she groans.

I let myself go at once, releasing my own orgasm seconds after hers.

Breathing gently, she turns back to face me, with a soft expression on her face.

She says nothing. I don’t, either.

It’s not necessary. Our bodies are doing the talking now.

Esme falls asleep with her hand on my chest. For a long time, I just lie there and stare at her.