Page 50 of Ruthless Salvation

I smiled wickedly, then swirled my tongue around his tip. Wanting to drive him wild, I forced myself to relax the back of my throat and allow him in until my nose brushed against his body.

Torin groaned deliciously. I could feel him swell against my tongue as I released him. His hand fisted in my hair but not with any real strength. He made sure I still felt completely in control, giving me the courage I needed to lose myself in my task. I dove in again, this time swallowing while his head was deep at the back of my throat. When his abs seized tight, I knew he was close, so I worked my fist and lips in unison.

“Ohfuck. That’s it, baby.Don’t stop.”

Seconds later, he gasped his release, and cum rocketed down my throat. Gently, ever so gently, I gave him one last lick from base to tip, making him hiss with pleasure.

My chest expanded with a bubble of happiness from knowing how thoroughly I’d pleased him. Each of his words, his guttural moans, and the captivated look in his eyes were a shower of compliments coming from a man like Torin.

I wanted to pretend I still had a choice about how I felt for him, but it was more and more clear to me that my heart had already decided. I was falling for Torin Byrne.

But would he still want me if he knew my past? It was the last thing I should have been thinking about at that moment, yet the worry seeded itself deep in my psyche.

Tor helped me to my feet and tucked himself back into his pants but didn’t make for the door. Instead, he cupped my face and brought his lips slowly to mine. Three ardent, passionate kisses later, we were both breathless.

“You fucking own me, Storm. Inside and out.”

I didn’t know what to say, but he made it easy for me, simply placing one last kiss on my forehead before leading the way back out into the club.

I intentionally kept my eyes averted from any onlookers, not wanting to see any knowing smirks. I wasn’t ashamed, but I also didn’t want our activities to be a topic of conversation.

After taking a quick minute in the bathroom to wash my hands and tidy my hair, I returned to the bar and got back to work. Jolly joined me not long after, leaning his elbows back against the bar with his eyes watching the room.

“Glad to see you’re giving him a chance. Not many see past his armor.”

I was shocked that Jolly was bringing up Torin. He’d been tight-lipped about the man so far.

“You see past it,” I noted curiously.

“I knew him before. Know he wasn’t always like this.”

“You going to tell me what happened?”

“Nope. Not my story to tell.” He finally brought his gaze to mine, and I was shocked at all he said with one simple stare—a world of worry and hope and pleading without saying a single word.

I responded in the only way I knew how. I squeezed his hand. A show of understanding and gratitude and apology all rolled into one because as much as I wanted to promise I’d never hurt Torin, I couldn’t do that. My life was more complicated than most. Dating someone came with life-and-death consequences, which wasn’t something I took lightly.

Past

I knewtwo things with certainty. One, I couldn’t tell Damyon about the baby. And two, I had to escape. Soon.

I spent every waking minute scheming. My biggest problem was figuring out how to get out of the country. Was the embassy in Moscow trustworthy? Damyon had half of the city in his pocket. As far as I knew, that could extend to diplomats. I decided it was too risky, if only because it would be the obvious answer. I had to go a route he wouldn’t anticipate.

While I planned, I discreetly collected money at every opportunity. A few rubles here and there, every little bit I could stash away would help. For three weeks, I did my best to appear as though I’d accepted my fate. I put on the performance of my life, disguising my thoughts, emotions, and my subtly changing body.

I choked back the nausea. I smiled through the fatigue. I even had sex with him, going so far as to initiate so he wouldn’t suspect my true intentions.

It was the longest three weeks of my life.

At least after my parents’ deaths, I’d had Honey to reassure me and the comforts of home to soothe me. Here, I was all alone. I had no choice but to be strong, if only for the tiny life growing inside me.

Once the bruises around my neck finally faded, I went back at the yoga studio I’d joined. That was vitally important because it was the first step in my plan to escape. It was located in a nice part of town and frequented mostly by wealthy housewives, so my security was relaxed when I went to class. The studio had a back exit leading into an alley. I wished I’d been able to do more scouting to see what businesses kept their back doors unlocked during the day, but that wasn’t an option. I knew I’d leave through that exit and try to work my way through the neighborhood as best as I could without being seen.

I would essentially be escaping with no more than the shirt on my back, but that was all I needed if I could get away. I mentally strategized every last detail possible. I knew what gas station I’d use to buy hair dye and what bus station would get me out of the city. I debated endlessly about what border country would be my best chance at freedom. I had decided after doing what research I could that going south to Ukraine would be best because anti-Russian sympathizers were more likely to help me across the border. How I’d find those select individuals was a problem I’d face down the road. My plan relied on a healthy dose of luck, but I had little other choice. As long as I could get out of Moscow, I had faith in my ability to get home. Eventually.

I decided on a dreary fall Sunday to execute my escape the following day. I wasn’t sure I was ready, but waiting felt even more dangerous. I also worried that if I had a long lead time before walking away, he’d somehow sniff out my mounting fear and figure it out. I felt safer stealing away almost on a whim. It seemed less predictable. Less likely to cause suspicion.

The problem with a man like Damyon? He was suspicious of everything.