Not done, he rolled us again, pinning me beneath him. "Still holding out? Let's fix that." He slowed, teasing the edge, pulling almost out before slamming back in, over and over. His hand slipped between us, fingers vibrating against my swollen bud as he whispered filthy promises. "Feel that? This is me owning you, Noelle. Every inch." He kissed the tattoo obsessively, begging between thrusts. "Don't leave... I need you... say it, please."
I arched, screams tearing from my throat as wave after wave crashed over me, my body betraying me with clenching spasms. But I clamped my mouth shut on any words, refusing to surrender, even as pleasure ripped through me like fire. He kept going, inventive now—switching positions, bending me over the edge of the bed, taking me from behind with slaps to my ass that stung deliciously, then pulling my hair to arch my back while he drove deep. "Like that? Or this?" He'd alternate speeds, fast and furious, then agonizingly slow, edging me until I was a trembling mess, screams echoing off the walls.
By the end, I was a wreck, body spent from multiple peaks, screams raw in my throat, but I never gave him the words he craved. No promises, no admissions. He finally spilled inside me with a guttural roar, collapsing over me, still murmuring pleas against my skin. But I stayed silent, my defiance intact, even in the afterglow.
Kholod's arms locked me tight against him. His heartbeat thrummed steadily in my ear, stark in the quiet.
I stared blankly at the ceiling, everything from before feeling like a storm I'd lost control of.
Chapter Forty-One
Noelle
Kholod set the carefully prepared lasagna in front of me, his eyes bright with anticipation.
"Try it. I made it the way you taught me."
I took a bite. The cheese and tomato melded perfectly on my tongue. "Better," I said objectively. "But you still used too much cheese."
He immediately pulled out his phone to record my feedback, his serious expression making me smile despite myself.
His transformation over these past weeks was undeniable.
From kitchen disaster to decent cook. From fumbling with a crying Leo to expertly changing diapers and getting him to sleep. Even when I remained cold toward him, he stayed patient.
That night, Leo was particularly fussy, squirming in my arms, refusing to settle.
"Come on, baby..." I patted his back gently. "Close your eyes..."
Kholod looked up from his paperwork. "Need help?"
"No," I said. "He's almost asleep."
I carried Leo to the window, gazing out at Niaube's peaceful night. The distant sound of waves drifted in. Lorenzo suddenly crossed mymind, and I murmured without thinking, "Wonder how Lorenzo's doing..."
The temperature in the room plummeted.
"You're still thinking about him." Kholod's voice could have frozen hell.
I turned to face his dangerous stare. "I'm just worried about a friend," I said wearily. "Don't be ridiculously jealous."
"Friend?" He moved closer, step by predatory step. "Noelle, are you sure he only thinks of you as a friend?"
"What else would it be?"
"I think he wants a hell of a lot more than that." His voice turned acidic. "And you... you enjoy his attention."
"Kholod Morozov," I took a deep breath. "Stop being paranoid."
"I'm not." He stopped in front of me. "I just want to know how much longer you're going to keep giving him pieces of your heart."
"Kholod!"
"I watch you smile at him, accept his help, live like a family..." His voice dropped, wounded. "Do you know how much that hurts?"
I stayed silent.
"I'm here, trying everything to make you happy. Learning to cook, taking care of Leo..." His voice cracked. "But he's still in your heart."
