I’ve made so many bad choices in my life. So many wrong turns. But surrendering to Alexei—to us, to whatever we’re becoming—doesn’t feel like another mistake.
This feels like finally coming home.
His fingers trace the edges of the garter belt and slowly unhook each clasp from my stockings. Watching his massive hands perform such delicate work mesmerizes me.
This man dismantles people for a living, yet he’s removing my wedding lingerie like he’s handling a new baby chick.
Careful. Focused. Reverent.
Each brush of his fingertips along my thigh infuses me with more heat, until I can’t remember why I thought this was a bad idea.
The goosebumps pebbling my exposed skin aren’t because I’m cold. Alexei drinks in every inch with feverish intensity. I find myself arching toward him, offering more, and his sudden hiss is the most satisfying sound in the world.
“Aurora.” My name on his lips is a prayer.
Boldness seizes me, compelling my trembling fingers to reach for his shirt. I fumble with the first button, clumsy with nervous energy.
He moves to help. “Let me.”
I grab his hand. “I’ve got it.”
He stills, studying me with piercing blue eyes as I work the buttons free. The act of undressing him feels important. Like I’m claiming him just as much as he’s claiming me. I push theshirt from his shoulders, pausing for a moment to admire the expanse of tanned, scar-speckled skin.
The cross over his heart. The scars that map a history of violence. The tulip tattoo that seems too soft to be on the skin of a man so hard.
I touch every mark—the scars and tattoos—learning him with my fingertips the way he’s learning me with his eyes. When I reach the waistband of his pants, I hesitate, sudden shyness creeping in.
He saves me by rising to remove them himself. When he returns, he pushes me into the mattress, nothing between us but heat and the last of our hesitations.
His weight over me should feel threatening. He’s larger and stronger than the other men I’ve been with. And much more dangerous. Instead, his weight feels like security. Like shelter from a storm I’ve spent my whole life running from.
His warm breath coasts over my neck. “You’re shaking again.”
“I’m okay.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Promise.”
Desire flares in his gaze before his mouth finds mine. He kisses me softly, tracing his tongue over the seam of my lips until I open them.
I expected Alexei to be rough and demanding. Dominant in bed the way he is in every other aspect of life. And though I know he can be, right now, he’s patient. Tender. As if he’s reading my thoughts and understands exactly what I need.
His reverent touch draws patterns on my hip, then my belly. He breaks the kiss when his fingers dip lower and props up on one elbow to examine my reactions.
“Alexei.” His name is half plea, half demand.
He plants a kiss on my temple. “Tell me what you need.”
“You. Just you.” The most honest statement I’ve uttered in a long time.
His thumb grazes my clit, pulsing shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I find his hard length and stroke the hot flesh with gentle pressure.
With a groan, he sucks my nipple and then bites down just a little.
Lava pools between my legs.
He reads me like a book and nips again, more forceful this time. How can he read my body so well already?
He slips two fingers inside me, pumping them in and out in a steady pace. The sensation is almost too much. I tighten my grip on his dick and glide my hand up and down, wanting to torture him as much as he’s torturing me.
“Fuuuck.” As he draws out the word, a vein in his neck pops. “I need to be inside you.”
