There was Before Chloe, and now there is After Chloe.
Chloe makes me more of a man, and I’ll never return to being less.
Not with her by my side.
I hook my finger under her chin. “I’m worse without you.” The unplanned and unfiltered declaration rings true.
She breathes in, holds it, then exhales shakily. Her fingers, still touching my jaw, tremble against my skin.
Tears shimmer in her eyes. “And I’m better with you.”
The simplicity of her statement, the perfect mirroring, undoes me.
I tug her closer, ignoring my protesting injuries. She nuzzles against me with her back to my chest and her head tucked perfectly under my chin.
Her shuddering stops. She’s warm, soft, and sweet.
And most importantly, mine.
We stare out at the empty parking lot, past the flickering neon sign and into the vast beyond. My arms encircle her possessively. For the first time since the warehouse—maybe since before I can even remember—peace settles in my bones.
“What happens now?” Her soft-spoken question barely pierces the night. “With the diamonds. With Roman.”
I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing in her scent. Smoke from the fire, sweat, a host of chemicals, and something sweet underneath that’s uniquely her. “We go back. We retrieve the diamonds. We give them to Roman.”
“And then?”
“We figure it out.”
She shifts in my arms and tilts her face up to mine. Starlight catches in her eyes, rendering them liquid silver.
My heart lurches in my chest.
I kiss her. What was meant to be a gentle touching of lips deepens into desperate hunger. Her hands fist in my shirt, dragging me closer. Mine tangle in her hair, cradling her skull.
I savor her warm, willing mouth against mine. She’s not the same as she was in the safe house—not that desperate, wanton thing pleasure reduced her to—but this woman is infinitely better.
I won’t complain about taking her that way again, but this is the Chloe I want.
Sweet. Strong. Perfect.
When I hear her broken, needy whimpers, I tighten my hold. Her body presses impossibly closer. I can sense her need throbbing between us.
If not for the full house behind us and the occasional car passing down the road, I’d fuck her right here on the steps.
Which just proves why the guys didn’t trust us to share a room with a door.
When we break apart, breathless, her lips are swollen. She pants for a moment, her fingers still clenched in my shirt. “Kolya…”
I brush my lips over her forehead until I reach the small butterfly bandage Vanya placed over the cut at her hairline. “What is it?”
She chews her bottom lip. Her eyes glisten, and I brush my thumb against the edge of her lashes.
A vice grips my chest. Is she crying? Did I upset her somehow? “What’s wrong,dushka?”
She leans toward my fingers, her lips parting with a soft exhale. “I think I love you.”
The quiet words wash over me in a tsunami.
