His chest rumbles with a throaty laugh as he starts to remove every single one. The same hands that have tortured and murdered countless people untangle my hair with a tendernessthat burns my throat. He drops each pin onto the nightstand with a tiny metallic ping.
As he reaches for my neck, he brushes my collarbone. I gasp as electricity sizzles down my spine.
Alexei freezes.
“Cold.” I’m a terrible liar. We both know damn well the room is warm and his touch even warmer.
The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile. He removes the final pins, and my hair tumbles around my shoulders.
“Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”
With his guard down, he’s a little vulnerable. Almost human. I touch his jaw, and the stubble scrapes my palm with delicious friction.
I withdraw my hand as molten heat rushes through me. “So are you.”
His eyes twinkle. I’m sure I’m not the first woman to tell him that. The smug bastard.
He hovers over me, giving me time to pull away. When our lips meet, it’s nothing like before. The kiss is tentative. No dominance, no control, just a man asking permission.
I answer by parting my lips, inviting him deeper.
He groans, and the kiss grows more urgent. When he cradles the back of my neck, I arch up to meet him, but the corset restricts my movement. These restraints on my breathing and motion should feel like another trap.
Instead, I feel like I’m flying.
I’ve spent weeks keeping him at arm’s length, even as we found ways to test the limits of the “no sex” rule. I told myself I set that boundary as a means of self-preservation.
Now, I wonder if fear motivated me. Not of him, but of how much I wanted him. Of how easy it would be to lose myself completely in this man, body and soul.
His mouth abandons mine to trail kisses down my neck. I grip his shoulders, loving the sensation of solid muscle beneath his shirt. This man, this predator, belongs to me now. And I belong to him. Not just on paper or for protection or convenience or survival. But because some broken part of me recognizes an equally broken part in him.
My anxiety transforms, morphing into an entirely different kind of tension. The tightness low in my belly has nothing to do with danger and everything to do with need. His hands explore my body with reverence, skimming over the satin of the corset and tracing the lines of the garters against my thighs. Each touch ignites a new flame, until my skin burns everywhere he’s grazed and aches in all the places he hasn’t.
“Alexei.” I breathe his name against his mouth, unsure what I’m asking for.
He seems to understand anyway. His fingers find the hooks of my corset and pause. “Is this okay?”
The question undoes me. He married me as a matter of strategy but treats me like I’m precious.
“Yes.” The word catches in my throat. “More than okay.”
He releases the hooks, and with each one, my lungs inflate a little more. When the corset falls away, I’m exposed, naked in a non-physical way. He’s seeing me without the armor or barriers I’ve built to keep everyone at a safe distance.
He flattens his warm palm against my stomach. “You’re shaking.”
I am. Not from cold or fear but anticipation. “I know.”
“We can stop.” His eyes trap mine. “Nothing has to happen tonight.”
My heart squeezes.
This choice is the most valuable gift anyone has ever given me. I could say no. Pull away and retreat behind my walls.
But I really, really don’t want to.
Instead, I tug him closer, pressing my bare skin against the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He gives me a devastating smile. Then his lips find mine again, and this time there’s no hesitation. Just hunger and heat and the sweet, sharp blade of need that cuts through all my defenses.
