For a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then he exhales, almost like a confession. “I don’t want to keep living in that kind of world, Sasha. Not the one built on blood and revenge. I want a life that means something. I want to wake up and see you there and know that the world outside doesn’t matter as much as this.” He turns toward me, his eyes fierce and unguarded. “I want a happy life with you. Threats will come and go—hell, we both know they will—but we can build something real. Something that lasts.”
My chest tightens, emotion burning behind my eyes. “Even though our marriage started the way it did?”
He gives a small smile. “Especially because of that. It means we fought for it.”
I lean my head on his shoulder, heart steady now. “Then we’ll build it,” I say softly. “A life that’s ours. Not perfect. But good.”
He kisses the top of my head and whispers, “Good is more than enough.”
Then he lowers me back onto the bed and claims my lips in a romantic kiss. It’s not rushed, not possessive—just sweet and full of love. I melt beneath him.
He moves the food tray onto the bedside table and leans over me, careful not to put all his weight on me.
“I love you.” He punctuates it by kissing all over my face. “You’re my entire world. My life revolves around you.”
I don’t respond with words. I reach up and kiss him back, letting my lips say everything I feel. He kisses my neck, tracing down my chest as he slowly pulls the sheets down my bare body.
I reach up, my fingers threading into his hair, pulling him toward me. “Now, babe, please,” I whisper, my voice thick with need. “I want to feel you inside me. We can take our time later.”
His eyes meet mine, dark and searching, and I see that same fire there—the obsession, the hunger, the absolute devotion. A slow smile curls on his lips, and he leans down, pressing his forehead to mine for a brief, excruciatingly sweet moment.
Then he’s all over me again, every kiss, every touch, making it impossible to think about anything but him. I arch into him, letting him feel me, needing him, wanting him—right here, right now. Time doesn’t exist. There’s only us.
He’s still kissing me when he pushes down his sweatpants, his warm body molding over mine. Every inch of him presses against me, and I shiver under the heat of him.
I part my legs instinctively, and I feel the tip of his erection teasing me, brushing against me in slow, deliberate strokes. My breath hitches, and my fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on as the tension between us coils tighter.
He pauses just long enough for me to feel the ache building, the delicious anticipation, before moving again, every touch calculated to drive me wild. I press into him, my body craving more, every nerve alive, each beat of my heart synchronized with his.
He slides inside me, and we both moan, a shared sound of relief and pleasure that vibrates between us. I press into him,feeling the delicious weight of him, every movement sending sparks through my body.
We move together, in perfect sync, chasing our own pleasures while giving to each other. Every motion, every gasp, every brush of skin feels like a language only we understand. I feel him—his love, his devotion—coursing through every touch, every heartbeat, every whispered sigh.
I wrap my arms around him tighter, needing him, wanting him, letting him know without words how completely he owns my attention, my body, my heart. And in return, I feel the certainty of him holding me, protecting me, loving me, as though the world outside doesn’t exist and never will, as long as we’re here together.
We reach our climax together, and I cry out, my body trembling, every nerve alight. He grunts deeply, a sound that grounds me even as pleasure washes over us.
For a long while, we hold each other, bodies pressed close, hearts still racing but slowly finding a steady rhythm. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, feeling the warmth of him, the safety, the devotion.
We don’t speak. Words aren’t necessary. The quiet between us is full—full of trust, full of love, full of the knowledge that we’ve found each other, here, now, and nothing else matters.
Epilogue – Sasha
I swallow a laugh, my fingers brushing against Lev’s chest as he steadies me. Darkness presses gently against my eyes, the blindfold soft but firm, keeping the world away. Since we left the house in the car, I’ve been walking through shadows and whispers. He said it’s a surprise. That’s all I know, and it’s driving me half-mad with curiosity.
The car stopped a few moments ago, and now I feel him moving me forward again, his hand steady on my back, reassuring. The ground is steady beneath my feet. The air smells faintly of salt and earth, carrying the distant sound of lapping water. My pulse quickens, trying to piece together the world with nothing but sound, scent, and touch.
“Lev…where are we going?” I ask, my voice teasing, though my heart is pounding from curiosity.
He smiles against my ear, warm and familiar. “It’s a surprise,” he murmurs, letting his hand rest lightly on my back as he guides me forward.
I feel the gentle weight of our son, Clint, cradled in his other arm, his tiny hands clutching at Lev’s shirt. My heart swells—two years, a lifetime in the making, and here we are. The soft warmth of our little family, the unshakable certainty that we’ve survived everything the world threw at us.
Suddenly, Lev stops, and I feel him shift the weight of our son slightly, then hear the snap of the blindfold being undone. Light floods my vision, and my eyes widen. We’re at an airstrip. A small plane waits before us, sleek and gleaming under the morning sun. My breath catches.
“What are we doing here?” I whisper, turning to Lev, heart hammering with excitement and disbelief.
He smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Your surprise. Come on.”
