"And this?" Her fingers found a scar I'd forgotten I had, low on my abdomen, half-hidden by the waistband of my trousers.
"A knife fight when I was twenty-three. I was careless."
"You survived."
"I always survive." I caught her hand, pressing it flat against my chest so she could feel my heartbeat. "And now I have something worth surviving for."
She looked up at me, her eyes glistening in the moonlight. "Vasily—"
I kissed her before she could finish, before she could say something that would break me entirely. My hands roamed her body, mapping the curves I'd memorized from a distance, finally learning them up close. She was soft everywhere I was hard, yielding everywhere I was rigid. When I cupped her breasts through the thin cotton of her bra, she gasped against my mouth.
"May I?" I asked, fingers hovering at the clasp.
"Yes."
I unhooked her bra and let it fall away. She was beautiful—full breasts, dusky nipples already peaked with arousal. I lowered my head and took one into my mouth, and the sound she made went straight to my core.
"Oh God." Her hands flew to my hair, gripping tight. "Vasily—"
I lavished attention on one breast, then the other, until she was writhing against me, her hips seeking friction I hadn'tyet provided. When I finally pulled back, her nipples were swollen and glistening, and the look on her face was pure, desperate need.
"Bed," I said roughly. "Now."
I lifted her easily, carrying her to the massive bed that had felt so empty for so long. I laid her down on the sheets and stood back for a moment, just looking. Her hair spread across my pillow like dark fire. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths. Her thighs pressed together, hiding what I wanted most.
"Open for me," I said. "Let me see you."
She hesitated, her cheeks flushing. Then, slowly, she let her legs fall apart.
I groaned at the sight—the wet patch on her underwear, the evidence of how much she wanted this. Wanted me. I hooked my fingers in the waistband and drew the cotton down her legs, baring her completely.
"Gabrielle." Her name was a prayer on my lips. "You're exquisite."
"I need—" She reached for me, her hands fumbling at my belt. "I need to feel you."
I helped her, shedding my trousers and boxer briefs in quick, efficient movements. Her eyes went wide when she saw me—fully hard, aching for her in a way I'd never ached for anyone.
"We'll go slow," I promised again, though my body screamed for me to take her now, hard and fast and claiming. "Tell me what you need."
"I need you to touch me."
I crawled over her, bracketing her body with my arms. Kissed her mouth, her jaw, the sensitive spot below her ear that made her shiver. My hand trailed down her stomach, through the soft curls between her thighs, until I found the slick heat of her.
She cried out when I touched her—a sharp, surprised sound that melted into a moan as I stroked through her folds. She was wet, so wet, her body weeping for me. I circled her clit with my thumb, watching her face contort with pleasure.
"That's it," I murmured against her throat. "Let me make you feel good."
"I already—oh God—I already feel—"
I slid one finger inside her, and she arched off the bed. She was tight—so tight it made me grit my teeth against the urge to replace my finger with something larger. I worked her slowly, adding a second finger when she relaxed enough to take it, curling them to find the spot that made her see stars.
"Vasily." She was panting now, her hips rolling against my hand. "Please—I need—"
"What do you need, little dove?"
"You. Inside me. Please."
The word "please" on her lips nearly undid me. I withdrew my fingers and positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her slick heat. Even that minimal contact made us both groan.
