I cover her hand with mine, not to hold her but to feel her warmth, to remind myself she’s real.
She looks at me, and for the first time I can’t read what’s in her eyes. Hate, yes. Hunger, yes. Beneath it, something I don’t dare name.
My voice comes low, hoarse. “I shouldn’t be here.”
Her fingers tighten against me. “Then go.”
I don’t move. Neither does she. The silence swells, thick and dangerous, until her lips part and she pulls me back down into another kiss.
This one is slower, deeper, though no less desperate. My hand cradles her face, thumb brushing the damp line beneath her eye. She shivers but doesn’t pull away.
I kiss her until breathing becomes impossible, until the world outside this room ceases to exist.
When we finally break apart, our foreheads rest together, both of us shaking, both of us lost.
She whispers, voice ragged, “This doesn’t change anything.”
I nod, though my chest aches. “I know.”
We don’t speak. Her breath is still hot against my mouth, the imprint of her lips burning into me like a brand. She’s pressed against me, hands still curled in my shirt, and every inch of restraint I’ve held on to feels shredded.
My gaze drops to her mouth again. Swollen. Red. Her eyes catch mine, unflinching, daring. The silence stretches, taut as wire. Then she tugs at me, not away but closer, and something in me snaps.
I scoop her up without thinking, her legs wrapping around my waist, her body yielding to mine. The move isn’t rough, not tonight. It’s urgent, charged, but not violent. She buries her face in my neck as I carry her the short distance to the bed. The scent of her hair fills me, sharp and sweet, cutting through the fog in my head.
I lower her onto the mattress, bracing my weight so I don’t crush her. For a second I hesitate, watching the way her chest rises fast beneath me. She doesn’t shove me off this time. Her hands grip my shoulders, pulling me down instead.
My mouth claims hers again, deeper now, her tongue sliding against mine, her teeth catching my lower lip. The heat that coils through me is raw, almost unbearable. I press my body into hers, feeling the soft give of her curves against the hard line of me. She moans into my mouth, a sound that makes my control splinter.
She yanks at the hem of my shirt, desperate hands pushing it up. I break the kiss long enough to rip it off, tossing it to the floor. Her eyes rake over me, sharp and hungry, and for once I don’t look away. I let her see me, scars and all, every mark left by the life I’ve lived.
Her fingers trace along my chest, nails scraping lightly over muscle, then sliding down, lower, teasing at the waistbandof my pants. My body shudders at the touch. I grab her wrist, not to stop her but to slow us, to remind myself I still have control.
“No games,” I rasp, voice rougher than I intend.
Her answering smile is bitter and sweet all at once. “Then stop pretending.”
I crush my mouth to hers again, swallowing the words, kissing her until she gasps into me. My hand slides beneath her shirt, palm splayed against warm skin. She arches into the touch, her breath catching. I shove the fabric up, baring her to me. She pulls it over her head herself, tossing it aside, daring me with her eyes to look away.
I don’t.
Her bra is simple, black, the lace worn soft against my fingertips as I slip the straps down her shoulders. She arches her back, unfastening it herself, letting it fall. The sight of her bare chest steals my breath.
She’s flawless and imperfect all at once, and I can’t resist leaning down, taking one peaked nipple into my mouth. She gasps, her hand tangling in my hair, pulling me closer as I lick and suck, teasing her until her body trembles beneath mine.
Her thighs shift restlessly, rubbing together, begging for more. I trail my hand down her stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her jeans. She lifts her hips, helping me as I undo the button and slide them down. They hit the floor, leaving her in nothing but thin panties, dark with damp.
My cock throbs painfully against the confines of my pants, but I make myself slow, make myself taste her. I slide my hand between her legs, pressing against the heat of her through the fabric. She cries out, hips jerking, clutching at my arms. I rub slow circles, feeling her grow wetter with each pass, the thin cotton clinging to her.
“Alexei,” she gasps, voice breaking, and it wrecks me.
I push her panties aside, sliding a finger through her slick heat. She’s soaked, ready, and the sound that tears from her throat when I push inside makes me groan against her skin. I add another finger, stretching her, pumping in and out as her hips grind against my hand. Her nails rake down my back, leaving trails of fire.
I kiss her throat, her jaw, her mouth again, devouring her as I work her closer and closer. Her breath comes fast, broken, until she clamps around my fingers, moaning my name as she comes undone beneath me.
I don’t give her time to recover. I strip the last barrier from her body, tugging her panties down and tossing them aside. She’s bare, flushed, trembling, and looking at me like she hates herself for wanting me this much.
I stand just long enough to rip my pants open, freeing my cock. I’m hard, aching, the head leaking as I stroke myself once, twice, watching her eyes widen, her lips part.
