Just days ago, I’d felt like I was unraveling. Now, wrapped in his warmth, I felt like maybe I’d been stitched back together.
He stirred, shifting against me, and I felt the drag of his fingers across my side before his eyes fluttered open. He blinked slowly, adjusting to the light, then looked at me.
A lazy, crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “Good morning.”
My voice was soft. “Morning.”
He watched me for a long moment, and I let him. I wanted to be seen by him. Not the version of me that flinched and braced for damage—but this one. Whole. Held.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, brushing my hair back with a tenderness that made my breath catch.
I nodded. “Better than I have in a long time.”
That seemed to please him. He settled back against the pillows, one arm tightening around my waist, keeping me close. We didn’t say much for a while. We didn’t need to.
Eventually, he murmured, “What do you want to do today?”
I thought about it—really thought about it. I could’ve said anything. Escape, distraction, something shiny or loud to keep reality at bay. But instead, I whispered, “Nothing. Just… this.”
He grinned, eyes crinkling as he pulled me even closer. “I can get behind that.” He shifted above me, his body a warm, solid weight that didn't crush but cradled. His eyes, those stormy, intense eyes, locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter. He lowered his head, and his lips met mine in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second.
The world narrowed down to just us, just this moment. His kiss was gentle but insistent, a promise and a question all at once. I responded, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. His fingers traced patterns on my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
He broke the kiss, but only to trail his lips down my neck, each touch a spark that lit up my senses. I arched into him, a soft moan escaping my lips. His mouth found the pulse point at the base of my throat, and he lingered there, his breath hot against my skin.
His hands moved lower, exploring, claiming. He kissed every inch of my skin like it was sacred ground, like he was worshipping at an altar. When his lips found my breasts, I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He took his time, drawing out a response from deep within me, a response that was raw and real and completely unguarded.
In that moment, there was no past, no future, just the here and now. Just us. Just this. And it was everything.
He slid into me, and I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. His eyes never left mine, holding me captive in that intense, stormy gaze. He moved with a deliberate slowness, each thrust a promise, a claim. My body arched to meet his, a dance as old as time, yet new and exhilarating in its intimacy.
His hands roamed over my skin, mapping out every curve and contour like it was territory he intended to conquer and protect. I felt the rough calluses on his palms, a testament to his strength and the battles he'd fought, both on and off the ice. But here, with me, he was gentle, reverent.
"Mina," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. It wasn't just my name; it was a plea, a prayer. I responded with a soft moan, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into me.
His pace quickened, and I matched him, our bodies moving in sync. The room filled with the sounds of our lovemaking—the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed, the harsh rhythm of our breathing. Each sensation heightened, every touch a spark that ignited a fire within me.
I clung to him, my nails raking down his back. He growled, a primal sound that sent a thrill of satisfaction through me. I wanted to mark him, to leave my own claim on his skin. He belonged to me as much as I belonged to him.
His lips found mine again, kissing me with a fervor that left me breathless. I tasted him, the salt of his sweat, the sweetness of his desire. Our tongues danced, mirroring the movements of our bodies.
He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice ragged with need. "So tight."
I smiled, a soft, secret smile just for him. "You feel like home," I whispered back. And it was true. In his arms, I found a sense of belonging, a safety I hadn't known existed.
He shifted, his hands gripping my hips, lifting me to meet his thrusts. The angle changed, and I gasped, pleasure shooting through me like a bolt of lightning. He watched me, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, something that made my heart ache with its intensity.
"Nikolai," I breathed, his name a plea on my lips. I was close, so close to the edge. He knew it, could see it in my eyes, feel it in the way my body trembled beneath his.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "Let go, malen’kaya," he whispered, his voice a low growl. "Let me see you come undone."
And I did. I let go, my body convulsing around him, waves of pleasure crashing over me. I cried out his name, my fingers clutching at him, my legs shaking. He followed me over the edge, his body tensing, his own release a hot, pulsing sensation inside me.
We lay there, our bodies still joined, our breathing slowly returning to normal. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close. I could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, against my chest.
"You're mine," he said, his voice a soft rumble. It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. And I knew it was true. I belonged to him, completely and irrevocably.
My eyes fluttered closed. "And you're mine," I whispered.
