When release comes, it's shattering. I cry out his name, clenching around him in waves that pull him over the edge. He buries deep, spilling inside me with a guttural roar, his body shuddering as he holds me tight.
We collapse together, limbs entwined, hearts pounding in unison. He rolls us so I'm draped over his chest, his fingers stroking my back. "We're stronger together," he murmurs, kissing my hair.
I nod, nestling closer, the emotional weight lifting at last. Because in his arms, the world outside fades.
“You should sleep now,” he says softly.
I breathe him in, and I know that I’ve missed this and missed him. My pulse slows, and my eyes droop, the tension easing inch by inch. When I speak, it’s barely above a whisper as I hover in that phase between dozing and full sleep. “If you left the room right now, I think I’d wake up.”
“I won’t leave,” he says simply.
“I thought you had work to do tonight?”
“Not anymore.”
I tip my head up very slightly. “You mean it?”
His eyes lock on mine, unwavering, and he nods. “I mean everything I say to you.”
Something in my chest aches, deep but not painful.
“Sleep now,” he mutters against my hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Just sleep.”
The promise settles into me, solid and grounding. I let my head rest against his shoulder. My eyes grow heavy again. The outside world might be a scary place at times, but here with Viktor, it feels like nothing can touch me.
I start to follow the slow, unshakeable rhythm of his breathing.
And somewhere in the haze just before full sleep sets in, I hear him murmur something low in Russian. It’s a promise.
The last thing I feel as my eyes drift shut is his hand over mine on his chest.Steady and warm.
This is what safety feels like.
And I want to stay here.
Forever.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
VIKTOR
Avelina and the kids have been back with us for a week, and it’s been pure bliss.
I’m in the office with Grigory and Matvey when Sofia appears in the doorway of the office, clutching something behind her back, her face lit up like she’s just discovered buried treasure.
“Viktor,” she says solemnly, “I have a present.”
I pause mid-sip of coffee, suspicious. The last ‘present’ involved glitter, a glue stick, and three hours of removing sparkles from my hair.
“What is it, little bird?” I rumble.
She beams and whips her hands out from behind her back. One pair of fluffy, bright pink kitten slippers dangle from her fingers.
My lips tug up. “Those will look adorable on you, little bird.”
She nods enthusiastically. “Uh-huh, they will.”
And it makes me happy to see her smiling like this.
