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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Thrust

  Copyright © 2016 by Becca Jameson

  Digital Release: October 2016

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Thrust by Becca Jameson

  Alena Dudko’s life has been upside down for a year and a half. First she was abducted and held for six months in Russia, and then she was rescued and went into hiding in the US. She’s done hiding. She’s also done tiptoeing around Ivan Belinsky, pretending she doesn’t want the man in her bed.

  Ivan has been responsible for keeping Alena safe for nearly two months. He has spent every minute of that time fighting his attraction toward her. After all, she’s his best friend’s sister, she has no idea Ivan is a Dominant, and she has innocence written on her forehead. She is off limits.

  When Alena bares everything—literally—Ivan is forced to face his feelings head on. But nothing changes the fact that the leader of the Russian Mafia is after both them and their friends. The FBI is working frantically to capture Anton Yenin and put an end to the terror, but it’s taking longer than anyone would have hoped.

  Alena won’t wait for the threat to be contained. She intends to live her life now. It’s up to Ivan. In? Or out?

  Dedication

  To my husband for once again reading through every word in this manuscript to make sure I didn’t screw up the storyline! I love you!

  Chapter One

  “Alena, what the hell are you doing? Go put some clothes on.”

  Yes. That’s almost exactly what she expected him to say. Word for word.

  She ignored Ivan’s narrowed eyes and perfected frown and continued toward the refrigerator. She’d planned this for weeks. It had taken that long for two specific stars to align, converging at the same time—a rare opportunity when no one but the two of them were in the apartment and she had the nerve to act.

  Ivan groaned as she leaned over to reach for a soda on the bottom shelf of the fridge.

  She knew perfectly well the towel wrapped around her wasn’t long enough to quite cover her ass in this position. In fact, it barely reached around her small frame in order for her to tuck one corner in between her breasts.

  “Alena. Babe. Go put some clothes on,” he repeated. “You can’t waltz around here naked. We aren’t the only people living here.”

  She caught him glancing at the front door when she turned around. But she knew everyone’s schedule for the day. No one was going to be home for hours. No one was likely to be home at all for the rest of the day and night.

  Mikhail was permanently attached to Haley and hadn’t been back to the apartment for more than a few minutes at a time in a month.

  Nikolav was at Belinda’s where he’d been since meeting her a week ago.

  And Sergei hadn’t been home for two nights. He probably wouldn’t return again that night, though he’d been tight-lipped about his destination. Now that she thought about it, he’d been tight-lipped for days. Alena was clear on his status as a lady’s man, however. So he’d undoubtedly landed himself a woman.

  She rolled her eyes as she popped the top on her soda. “I’m hardly naked. And no one’s home.”

  “I’m home.” He pointed at his chest for emphasis. His gray T-shirt stretched tightly across his pecs. “Alena, I’m standing right here.” Leaning was more like it. He’d been leaning against the counter when she entered, staring at something on his phone. And at this point, it seemed more like he was using the counter to keep himself upright.

  Score one.

  “I noticed.” She took a sip of the soda, intentionally adjusting the front of her towel, hiking it up so her breasts plumped and the tail end at her sex lifted a bit too high.

  Ivan fumbled with his phone until it slipped from his hands and landed on the floor. Thank goodness it had a protective case.

  Score two.

  It was so hard not to laugh. She bit her lower lip, hoping her eyes didn’t give her away. And then she lifted the soda can to her lips and took a pretend sip of the sugary sweetness to cover her expression.

  She never drank soda. It wasn’t a taste she’d ever developed. It reminded her of liquid candy. Orphanages in Russia certainly didn’t stock it or feed it to the children, so she’d been almost an adult before she had ever tried it. Apparently for some people that was a bit too late to acquire the taste.

  While Ivan was bent over picking up his phone, she rolled the cold can across her forehead as if it were too hot in the apartment. It was anything but too hot. Burly men who spent most of their time honing their bodies for mixed martial arts lived in the cramped space. They kept the thermostat set way too low. Most of the time she wore a sweatshirt or a cardigan to keep warm.

  But today she had a plan. And it didn’t involve clothing.

  As he bent forward, she silently admired his thick, dark hair. She had wanted to run her hands through it for months. He kept it short, cropped tight on the sides, but it was still tempting. As he righted himself, she met his gaze. Dark brown eyes that narrowed at her. His skin pulled tight around them, leaving lines across his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. Dark olive skin that always looked tanned. A bronze god.

  Ivan blew out a breath, lowered his gaze, and pushed off the counter. Without a word, he headed for the hallway and disappeared, his damn fine ass encased in perfect-fitting, worn jeans making her draw in a sharp breath.

  Strike one. Dammit.

  Alena wasn’t going to go down without a fight, however. She set the stupid cold can on the counter and followed him, her feet moving quickly to keep up with his long strides.

  She was only five two. He towered over her by more than a foot. In fact he more than doubled her weight too.

  She’d been in the United States a year. Her brother, Mikhail, had arrived at eighteen, brought into the country by Anton Yenin, a man they all now knew had far more nefarious reasons for arranging green cards for six Russian fighters over a dozen years ago. It no longer seemed likely the leader of the Russian Mafia had strictly altruistic motives when he arranged for the six men to fight the underground MMA circuit.

  Ivan Belinsky had been living in Vegas when Alena arrived in Chicago. She’d spent the majority of the last year inside first one apartment and then this new place, unsure of her safety. Mikhail had been uncertain, at least. And lately, she had to acknowledge he was right to be concerned.

  She was in serious danger. Anton Yenin was without a doubt biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to snatch her or any one of them right off the street.

  When Ivan moved to Chicago a few months ago to transfer to a local manager, Abram Gromov, he had almost immediately moved in with Mikhail and Alena, leaving his own apartment vacant.

  At first she worried her attraction for him had been a result of too many months in is
olation. After all, he was one of the only people she was in contact with—and definitely one of the few men who wasn’t already in a relationship.

  She’d been leery of her initial reaction. But after a few weeks, she accepted her attraction as real.

  Ivan, on the other hand, was moody and serious too much of the time. Hot and cold with her. The signals she got from him were more mixed than a Long Island tea, a drink she’d never tasted but had seen many times on television.

  Any time they left the apartment, he was on her—in her space, a hand on her lower back or arm or shoulder or hand. He would glance around constantly, his concern for her safety bordering on the ridiculous. At least that’s what she thought weeks ago. She knew better than to ignore their surroundings now.

  The man was over six feet. Few people would fuck with him. But those few people definitely included the Russian Mafia leader, Anton Yenin.

  She noticed every nuance of his attentiveness, however. Specifically the differences between how he treated her and how he treated other women. Often they were in the company of Mikhail’s girlfriend, Haley, Leo’s girlfriend, Katie, or lately even Nikolav’s girlfriend, Belinda.

  The men took turns watching everyone’s back, especially when one or more of them was fighting in an underground speakeasy while the others kept an eye out for unwanted company.

  Ivan never once touched Katie, Belinda, or Haley in the same manner. He might guide them through a crowded room with a hand on their bicep or forearm. He might wrap his fingers around someone’s shoulder as a safety measure. But never did he maintain a lengthy pressure to their lower backs or subconsciously stroke a thumb across the sensitive space between their shoulder blades.

  Once he most assuredly let that thumb stretch around to glance over the corner of her breast. For five minutes.

  As soon as they got back home, he would go completely cold.

  But it was the memories of all their public appearances that fueled her to take this calculated risk today.

  No matter what results she got, she would never regret the attempt. Even now, moisture gathered between her legs as she followed him. Speeding up, she was able to step into his room behind him before he could shut her out.

  He ignored her and continued moving toward his dresser. “I have to go to the gym this morning.”

  Of course he did. Like most mornings. Announcing it wasn’t necessary.

  Standing in his room in a towel wasn’t necessary either, but here she was. And the man had no more planned to head to the gym this early in the morning than she’d planned to go dancing. Now was her chance. She would force him to see her as a woman and openly admit it, or go down in flames trying.

  Taking a deep breath, she wandered toward his unmade bed and pushed the dark navy comforter and sheet out of the way. Before he could turn around, she dropped the towel and climbed onto his bed to lie against his pillow. The first inhale brought his scent to her nose and made her bite her inner lip to keep from moaning.

  God, she loved that scent. He used the same soap as nearly every man in the house, but on him it was somehow different. His own personal musk mixed with it to create a lethal combination that had her salivating.

  She took another deep breath and waited for him to turn around.

  When he did, he stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze wandering over her body, his mouth hanging open. He blinked several times and then licked his lips. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead.

  Score three.

  The gym shorts he held were forgotten and slipped through his fingers to land on the floor. “Jesus, Alena. What the hell are you doing?”

  She shrugged, letting him wrap his mind around her blatant proposal.

  Finally, he took three long strides to reach her side, hauled his comforter over her trembling body, and sat on the edge of the mattress.

  His brows were drawn together, and he stared at her face for long moments. “You’re trying to seduce me.”

  “Ya think?” Is it working?

  “You can’t.” He shook his head.

  “I beg to differ, since I actually am.”

  “No. I mean you can’t. Nothing can happen between us. Ever.”

  “Don’t even try to tell me you haven’t felt the same heat between us I feel. I won’t buy it.”

  He shook his head again. “It wouldn’t matter if I did. You’re my best friend’s sister.”

  “And there’s a law concerning that?”

  “Bro code.”

  She chuckled. “Bro code? Tell me you aren’t serious.”

  “Totally. And besides, you’re way too innocent for a man like me.”

  “A man like you? Human? Sexy? Built like a bull?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No. I don’t. Enlighten me.”

  “Dominant. Demanding. Possessive.”

  She knew that. Every bit of it. Did he think she was in the dark about his tendencies? “Maybe I like those qualities.”

  He groaned. “Well, get over yourself, because this is never going to happen.”

  She sat up, letting the sheet fall to her waist so her breasts were exposed. Her nipples hardened into stiff peaks. The globes felt heavy with desire.

  “Alena…” he warned, his gaze honing in on her chest. He turned away. His chest rose and fell with every breath. “Go back to your room. Don’t do this. I won’t mention it again.” He stood and padded away toward the door.

  Strike two.

  Desperate, she decided it was too late to go back now. The damage was done. Neither of them would ever be able to forget this happened. The awkwardness would forever hang in the air between them. So she had nothing to lose. She would keep pushing.

  “Kiss me. How much harm could that possibly do? Kiss me, and let’s see where it leads.”

  “Not going to happen. It wouldn’t matter where it leads, we can’t follow down that path.”

  “And yet I disagree.”

  “Too bad.” He held the door open as if it would swing shut on its own if he let go, trapping her in the room with him for a lifetime.

  “I’m not leaving.”

  He chuckled. “You weigh about a hundred pounds. You’re doing whatever I say.”

  “Fine. Then you have two choices—kiss me right now or pick me up and carry me from the room.”

  He groaned, his shoulders falling in defeat. After several seconds, he lifted his gaze. “Why do I think I am so going to regret this?”

  She smiled.

  Score four.

  ∙•∙

  Ivan blinked several times slowly, unable to comprehend what the hell was happening here. It seemed as if he’d fallen into The Twilight Zone. Insanity.

  Was Alena Dudko seriously lying naked on his bed begging him to ravage her? He peeked up to find her still there. Not an apparition, then.

  Surely he was asleep. Dreaming. The best dream of his life, but still not a real experience.

  In fact, he’d had this dream. Dozens of times in the last few months.

  No. That wasn’t true. He’d never had this particular dream. He’d never pondered this perfect scene awake or asleep. He’d visualized himself with her, kissing her, groping her, stroking his fingers over her wet heat through her jeans. But she’d never been naked. He hadn’t dared permit himself to let the dream get that far.

  Jesus, her body. All that creamy white skin that went with her long, blonde, wavy hair. And fuck him, the curls between her legs were just as blonde. He couldn’t breathe. Her skin looked even paler against his dark navy sheets. She stared up at him with deep, penetrating blue eyes, forcing him to shake himself out of a trance.

  Alena Dudko was off limits. She was Mikhail’s sister, and she was unbelievably innocent for a twenty-eight-year-old woman. He hadn’t asked, but he would bet his last dollar she was a virgin.

  He shuddered. No way could he kiss her. He wouldn’t be able to stop with that, and then he’d be in over his head.

  But he also couldn’t carry h
er delectable naked body from the room.

  Shit.

  She was persistent. But she had no idea what she was asking of him—a warm-blooded, dominant male.

  The clock was ticking. If he could, he would turn around and leave the room. But that would do a lot of damage. She would be pissed. Probably never forgive him. And not only did they live together in this three-bedroom apartment, but he was frequently her main source of protection when they left the house.

  He wanted her to see reason, but hadn’t he been trying that angle since she first walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but that tiny sad excuse for a towel that wouldn’t have had the absorbency to dry off even his legs?

  And now? Jesus. Now she had dropped the towel and was currently contaminating his sheets with her scent—floral shampoo and body soap that on another woman would have annoyed him, but on her it smelled like perfection. Every fucking day.

  And now that her perfect naked body had lain on his bed, he would never be able to fully rest there again.

  Alena had curves. She was tiny and short, but that didn’t keep her from having full breasts, a narrow waist, and flared hips. All things he’d perfectly envisioned for months without her taking off her clothes. Now her nudity would be permanently burned into his mind.

  Both a gift and a burden.

  Fuck.

  He didn’t even have the ability to leave the apartment. No one else was home, and no way in hell would he leave her alone. Ever.

  Had he caused this collision of events? Had he paid too much attention to her? Given her the wrong impression? Flirted with her?

  Probably all of those things. Or maybe none of them mattered. Maybe she would have been in his room this morning no matter what he’d done in the past.

  He was flattered. Hell yes. At least he knew she was attracted to him. Misplaced though her attraction might be.

  On a deep breath, he decided the best of his limited options was to give her what she asked for and kiss her. He could keep it chaste. A peck. Nothing more. Uninteresting. Ruin her vision of what it might be like. Send her packing.