For a breath, he’s unreadable. Then his features soften. He steps forward, hands rising slowly, as if calming a spooked horse. Fingers brush my cheek, wiping tears with unexpected tenderness.
“Put that list out of your mind tonight,” he murmurs. “You’re safe here.”
The certainty in his voice lands like a warm blanket. He draws me closer and I don’t resist. My forehead presses against his chest and his arms wrap around me—strong, protective, and terrifyingly comforting. I melt, tears soaking into the dark wool of his coat while he strokes my hair.
“Breathe, Teresa.”
I follow the cadence of his own breathing until the tremors ease. I look up at his face and our eyes meet. His thumb traces the curve of my lower lip, pausing at the corner like a question.
I answer by leaning in.He responds by closing the distance, mouth capturing mine in a kiss that starts soft—testing, tasting—then goes deeper.
Slow heat unspools through every vein. His palm cups the nape of my neck, guiding me until my world shrinks to cedar, whiskey, and the slide of his breath against mine.
I lose the wordshit list, escape, dangersomewhere between heartbeats.
Right now, there’s only the shelter of his arms and the promise blooming behind his kiss—complicated, impossible, but real.
Vlad’s kiss is a slow inferno, his lips firm and steady. My fingers dig into the coarse wool of his coat, anchoring myself. He pulls back, dark eyes blazing, pinning me in place.
“You’re shaking,kotenok,” he says, his thumb brushing a stray tear from my cheek. “Let me show you what a real man does for his woman.”
My breath hitches.His woman.Vlad’s gaze is intense and unhurried. I nod, and his lips curl into a smile.
He steers me to the bedroom, his hand warm at the small of my back. The room’s dim, streetlight slicing through the blinds, casting jagged shadows over the pile of jeans and sweaters left on my bed. He doesn’t even glance at the mess, his eyes are locked on me. His fingers brush the hem of my sweater, pausing.
I raise my arms and he tugs it off, knuckles skimming my ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps. My bra follows, then my jeans, sliding the denim down my thighs along with my panties. I’m naked in seconds, the heat in his eyes making me feel like a queen.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls, voice thick with want.
He steps closer, hands gliding over my hips, palms electric against my skin. When he drops to his knees, my pussy clenches, anticipation spiking. His lips press to the soft skin below my navel, a hot, open-mouthed kiss that sends a jolt straight to my core. I sway, grabbing his shoulders, nails biting into his shirt.
“Vlad,” I gasp, voice shaky, half-begging.
“Quiet,” he murmurs, mouth trailing lower, breath hot against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
His tongue parts my folds, slow and deliberate, lapping at my clit with a precision that makes my head spin. I moan, loud and raw, my fingers knotting in his thick hair. He’s relentless, sucking gently then flicking, teasing until I’m dripping, thighs trembling.
He grips my hips, holding me steady as he devours me, humming low in his throat like he’s tasting something divine. Vlad reads every twitch, every gasp, slowing when I’m close, dragging out the torture until I’m whimpering.
I come hard, my vision whiting out as I scream his name, legs giving way. He holds me up, licking me through every pulse until I’m a quivering mess.
He stands, lips slick with my arousal and kisses me hard. I taste my own juices on his tongue, mingled with his heat, and it’s filthy, perfect. His hands roam my back, pulling me against him. I feel his cock, hard and thick through his trousers, pressing into my hip.
“We’re not done,” he says, a wicked glint in his eyes.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, setting me on the bed among the scattered clothes. I watch, pulse racing, as he shrugs off hiscoat and unbuttons his shirt, revealing a broad chest, dark hair trailing down to a scarred abdomen. His fingers tremble slightly as he pulls a condom from his pocket.
“Do you want this?” he asks.
“Fuck, yes,” I breathe, reaching for him.
He strips off his pants, cock springing free, thick and hard, precum dripping. It makes my mouth water. He rolls the condom on, then crawls on top of me, his body warm and solid. His kiss is slow and deep, his tongue stroking mine in perfect rhythm.
He nudges my thighs apart with his knee, his cock teasing my entrance. He pushes in slowly, stretching me, filling me until I gasp, my nails digging into his back.
We move together, hips rocking. His eyes stay on mine, intense, like he’s seeing straight into my soul. It occurs to me that what we’re doing isn’t just fucking. It’s something deeper, a connection that scares the shit out of me but feels so damn right.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, and he groans as he sinks into me, a low, primal sound that makes my walls clench around him.
