His breath stuttered against my lips when I didn’t tell him to pull away. Something in him snapped—quietly, almost reverently—like a vow he’d been holding in his teeth finally gave way.
“Natasha…” His voice broke on my name. Then he kissed me again. Not tentative.
Not gentle. This one was deep, consuming, starving.
His hand slid from the back of my neck to my jaw, tilting my face exactly how he wanted it. The other arm wrapped around my waist and hauled me into his chest, blanket and all, as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between us. I gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like it belonged to him.
My fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him down onto the mattress without thinking. He followed willingly—no hesitation, no restraint—settling half over me, the heat of his body sinking into mine. I could feel the tremor in him.
He mumbled, “Seven years of wanting. Seven years of imagining. Seven years of obsession…” It all sharpened into a single point of contact—his mouth on mine.
Dmitri kissed me like a man who’d waited too long and finally couldn’t wait anymore. His lips moved to my cheek, my temple, the corner of my jaw. Each press was hungry but careful, like he was memorizing the parts of me he’d only pictured in his head.
“Please,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
Dmitri froze just long enough to look at me. His eyes were dark, wild, terrified, relieved. A low, rough sound tore out of him—half growl, half prayer. He lowered himself fully onto the bed beside me and pulled me against him, dragging me over his body until I was tucked along his chest exactly where he wanted me. His hand cupped the back of my thigh and guided it over his hip, fitting me against him like we’d done this a hundred times.
He surged forward and kissed me again—deeper, harder, thrillingly possessive—his hand sliding under the fabric of his own shirt as if it offended him that anything was between us. His palm splayed warm across my waist, pulling me flush to him. I exhaled a shaky breath into his mouth, and he answered with a low growl that vibrated through every inch of me.
Dmitri didn’t rush. He didn’t fumble. He kissed me like he was taking back years of lost time. His lips trailed down my throat, lingering at the pulse pounding there.
His breath was hot against my skin. Then he removed every stitch of clothing from us both.
I knew how wet I was. I knew I throbbed for him. But seeing how hard his thick, long, and swollen dick was threw me for a loop. He dripped for me. He was so hard that I wondered if it hurt. My mouth watered, and Dmitri kneeled there watching me as if he knew that he was the only thing that would quench my thirst.
“Excuse me while I take in the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
My heart froze. No skips, thudding, or butterflies. It froze like a moment in time. I couldn't breathe, and if I moved, I feared this would all dissolve into dust. So I didn't. I remained still and hoped like hell that the heat between us was enough to keep us whole.
Dmitri
She didn’t move. Not a twitch. Not a breath I didn’t notice. She lay there naked—soft, trembling, perfect—and something inside my chestsnappedso hard I swore I felt it echo in the room.
Seven years of restraint. Seven years of silence. Seven years of picturing this exact moment. And now she was here. Real. Warm.
Mine.
My vision tunneled. A low, animalistic hum vibrated in my throat as I dragged my stare over her body—slow, greedy, claiming every inch like I was carving ownership into her skin with my eyes alone. She didn’t understand what she’d awakened. She didn’t understand that the man she remembered died in prison. What survived was something much more dangerous.
I crawled up her body with deliberate slowness, caging her in with my weight, my shadows, my hunger. The air thickened. Herbreath hitched—barely, but enough. Enough to feed the beast pacing inside me.
“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I said again, voice low enough to vibrate between our bodies. Not a compliment. A verdict.
Her pulse kicked. I felt it. God, she was terrified and drawn to me at the same time.
The perfect combination. I lowered my face to hers, close enough that her breath whispered against my lips. I didn’t kiss her again yet. I wanted the anticipation. I wanted her trembling, wanting, confused.
“You have no idea,” I whispered, “how long I’ve waited to touch you without bars and guards and threats in the way.” Because every time I’d pictured something close to this in my mind, I was either dreaming or pretending that someone else was her.
Her lips parted. And that tiny little reaction destroyed the last piece of moral restraint I’d pretended to have. I pressed my hand to her thigh—too firm, not gentle, not questioning. Claiming. Accepting. Taking.
She gasped as her thighs shifted open. Her body made the decision before her mind caught up. Good. Her body knew who it belonged to, and I was about to show the rest of her what it was late to discover.
“You think I came back the same man?” I murmured as my thumb stroked dangerously close to where she was warm and trembling. “I didn’t. Prison didn’t break me. It sharpened me. It made me ruthless. Efficient. Obsessive. All over you, princess.”
I leaned in, nosing down her throat, inhaling her scent like an addict getting his first hit after too long. My lips brushed her pulse. Felt it thunder. I swiped the spot with my tongue and then pressed a kiss to seal the deal.
“I fought every day not to lose my humanity.” My teeth grazed her skin. “And then I realized something—I didn’t need it. Not for you. Not for what I want.”
