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I answered by reaching for his shirt, popping the buttons one by one until it fell away. His chest was a masterpiece—taut muscle, a dusting of dark hair, abs carved like stone. Pure, raw masculinity. "I'm not going anywhere," I said, my voice steady. "I want you, Gennady."

His kiss was punishing, claiming, his tongue invading my mouth, leaving no corner untouched. His hands roamed, calloused fingers grazing my cheeks, my neck, sending shivers through me. My body was on fire, every nerve screaming for more.

"Goddamn, Cassie," he rasped between kisses, his breath hot against my ear. "You're too fucking perfect."

His voice was rough, like gravel, thick with need. I wrapped my legs around his waist, grinding against the hard heat of him, feeling how much he wanted me. "Don't disappoint me, Gennady," I teased, my voice dripping with challenge.

He froze for a split second, then moved. His hands grabbed the hem of my hoodie, yanking it off in one swift motion. The cool air hit my skin, making me shiver, but his gaze—fuck, his gaze—pinned me in place. His eyes were dark, stormy, raking over my bare shoulders, my lacy bra, like he was starving.

"Jesus," he breathed, his voice raw with awe and hunger. "You're unreal."

His hands were on me now, hot and possessive, tracing my shoulders, my collarbone, sliding lower. Every touch ignited me, sparking flames that burned hotter with every second. I was trembling, not from cold, but from the overwhelming need coursing through me.

His hands slid down my body, fingers brushing the edge of my jeans before tugging them off with a slow, deliberate pull. My panties followed, leaving me exposed under his intense gaze. He paused, his eyes searching mine, voice rough with restraint. "Cassie, you sure about this? Really sure?"

I nodded, my pulse racing, heat pooling in my core. "I’m sure, Gennady. I want you."

He let out a low groan, like my words had undone him. His hands settled on my thighs, parting them gently as he positioned himself. But then he stopped, his breath hitching. "Cassie..." His voice was a ragged whisper, eyes wide with realization. "Is this your first time?"

I flushed, biting my lip, but didn’t look away. "Yeah. Is that a problem?"

"Problem?" His laugh was shaky, a mix of awe and something fiercely possessive flashing across his face. "Not at all. But I’m gonna have to do it in another way." His hands tightened on my hips, a tender edge to his grip, like he was holding something fragile and priceless.

Instead of moving forward, he shifted lower, his lips brushing my inner thigh, sending a jolt through me. "Gonna make this good for you," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. His mouth moved higher, teasing, tasting, his tongue finding my most sensitive spot with slow, deliberate strokes. I gasped, my hands fisting the sheets as he worked me, each flick and swirl igniting sparks that built into a fire. My hips bucked, and he held me steady, his low growl vibrating against me as I unraveled, crying out his name as pleasure crashed through me.

He lifted his head, eyes dark and hungry, watching me catch my breath. "Goddamn, Cassie," he rasped, crawling up to kiss me, letting me taste myself on his lips. "You’re sweet."

Then he moved, positioning himself between my thighs, his hardness pressing insistently against my entrance, hot andthrobbing. He searched my face one last time, his breath ragged, and I nodded, gripping his shoulders tightly, my nails already leaving faint marks on his skin. With a slow, careful thrust, he entered me, inch by inch, stretching me in a way that burned at first—a sharp sting that made me tense and gasp. He paused immediately, his body going still above me, his forehead pressing against mine as he whispered, "Easy, sweetheart. Breathe for me." His voice was rough but soothing, laced with that possessive edge that made my heart flip.

The pain faded quickly into something warmer, fuller, as he held there, letting me adjust. His hands roamed gently at first—one sliding up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it hardened under his touch, sending little shocks straight to my core; the other gripping my hip, holding me steady. He kissed me deeply, his tongue tangling with mine, distracting me from any lingering discomfort until all I felt was the overwhelming fullness of him inside me.

Slowly, he began to move, pulling back just a fraction before sliding in again, deeper this time. Each thrust was measured, building a rhythm that had me arching into him, my body craving more. "Fuck, you feel so good," he growled against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin lightly before he sucked a mark there, claiming. His hips rocked harder now, the pace quickening as he lost himself a little more with each stroke. I could feel every ridge, every pulse of him as he drove in, the friction igniting sparks that spread through my veins like wildfire.

My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine. Waves of pleasure built inside me again, different this time—deeper, more intense, coiling tight in my belly. His thrusts grew relentless, powerful, his muscles flexing under my hands as I traced the lines of his back, feeling the sweat-slicked skin. Heangled his hips just right, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind my eyes, and I cried out, my fingers digging harder into him.

"You're so tight, so perfect," he muttered, his voice breaking with need, his eyes locked on mine—dark, stormy, full of that raw possession. He captured my lips again in a bruising kiss, swallowing my moans as he pounded into me, faster, harder, like he couldn't get enough. The bed creaked under us, the room filled with the sounds of our bodies coming together, my gasps mixing with his grunts. Every thrust sent me higher, the pleasure bordering on too much, but I didn't want it to stop. I felt claimed, cherished, utterly his, and as the tension snapped, I shattered around him, clenching tight, waves of ecstasy crashing over me.

He followed soon after, burying himself deep with a final, shuddering thrust, his body tensing as he groaned my name like a prayer. We stayed like that, tangled and breathless, the world narrowing to just us—his weight a comforting anchor, his arms wrapping around me like he'd never let go.

Right then, I knew I was gone. Lost in his tenderness, his fire, this dangerous, intoxicating night.

And honestly? I didn't want to be found.

Chapter 7

Gennady

The whiskey in my glass caught the dim light, swirling amber and gold like it had a life of its own. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in my suite, staring out at Chicago's skyline—thousands of lights twinkling under my control, a city I had by the throat.

But my head wasn't in it.

Fuck.

My eyes kept drifting to the bed behind me, all messed up, sheets tangled. Cassie was still there, passed out, curled up on her side. Her fiery red hair spilled across the pillow, glowing like embers in the low light. The sheet had slipped down, showing off a creamy shoulder and the faint marks I had left on her skin. Her face was soft, peaceful, lips curved in a faint, satisfied smile.

Looking at her, something twisted in my chest—something raw, unfamiliar, almost fragile. It was unsettling as hell.

For twenty years, my mind had been a machine—cold, calculated, lethal. Whether I was putting a traitor in the ground, closing a multimillion-dollar deal, or outmaneuvering rivalcrews in a bloodbath, nothing had ever shaken my focus. Not even when Isabella was alive.