"Tell me you want this," he growls in my ear, one hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you." The words come out broken, desperate. "I've wanted you every single day for six years."
He makes a sound—half growl, half groan—and then he's pushing inside me in one brutal thrust that steals my breath. The stretch is almost too much. I cry out, the sound escaping before I can stop it.
His hand clamps over my mouth. "Quiet," he commands against my ear. "Unless you want everyone to know what's happening out here."
I nod frantically, my body adjusting to the invasion. It's been so long. Too long. And he's bigger than I remember, or maybe I've just forgotten what it feels like to be claimed like this.
He doesn't give me time to adjust. His hips pull back and slam forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that has me seeing stars. Each thrust drives me harder against the wall. The stone scrapes my palms, but I don't care. Can't care about anything except the feeling of him inside me after all these years of emptiness.
"Is this what you wanted?" His voice is rough, savage. "When you had me killed, did you think about this? About what you were throwing away?"
I shake my head frantically against his hand, trying to tell him he's wrong, but he's not listening. He's lost in his own fury and need, using my body like he's trying to exorcise demons.
His free hand slides around my hip, finding my clit. The dual sensation—him pounding into me from behind while his fingers work that bundle of nerves—is overwhelming. I'm going to come again, impossibly soon, my body wound so tight I can barely breathe.
"That's it," he rasps. "Feel what you did to me. Feel what you destroyed."
But his touch contradicts his words. Even in his rage, even believing I betrayed him, he's making sure I feel pleasure. His fingers know exactly how to touch me, the pressure and rhythm that drives me wild.
I'm close. So close. My legs are shaking, barely holding me up. If it weren't for his arm around my waist and the wall supporting me, I'd collapse.
"Come," he orders against my ear, his voice strained. "Come on my cock so you remember who you belong to."
The orgasm rips through me like a tidal wave. I scream against his palm, my body clenching around him so hard I see spots. He groans, his rhythm faltering, and then he's following me over the edge, his release hot inside me.
We stay frozen like that for several heartbeats, both of us breathing hard, bodies still joined. The reality of what we just did crashes over me.
I had sex with Maksim in the garden at my engagement party to another man.
He pulls out roughly. I feel his release start to drip down my thighs. I hear him zip up behind me, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet garden.
I turn around slowly, my legs still trembling, and find him watching me with an expression I can't read. The rage is still there, but it's mixed with something else now. Confusion maybe. Or regret.
"Maksim—"
"Don't." He cuts me off, taking a step back. "This changes nothing. You still betrayed me. This was just..." He gestures between us, his jaw tight. "Unfinished business."
The words hurt more than they should. I straighten my dress with shaking hands, trying to regain some dignity even though I can feel him dripping down my legs.
"I didn't betray you," I say quietly. "I don't know what you think happened, but I loved you. I mourned you. Everything I built, I built because I had nothing left to lose after you died."
"After you had me killed," he corrects coldly.
I’m sobbing. Again. My emotions are all over the place. I don’t know what to think. What to feel.
He’s alive.
I can’t get my head around the fact he’s standing front of me.
I don’t know if this is a dream come true or the start of a nightmare.
Chapter Eight
Maksim
What the fuck did I just do?I step back from Kira, putting necessary distance between us while my brain tries to catch up with my body's betrayal. She's breathing hard, her lips swollen from my mouth, tears streaming down her face, and she's never looked more beautiful.
