“Only briefly,” I tell her, threading my fingers through her hair. “This is long-term.”
Not a question.
Her smile hits me right in the sternum. “I like that. I like you being certain about me.”
I lace my hand gently around her throat and kiss her, letting it say what words can’t.
“Do we have to sleep in separate beds when we get home?” she asks, clearly offended by the idea.
So am I.
“I’ll just have to go to bed late and get up early,” I mutter.
I need to tell Lev. Soon. I won’t survive lying under my own roof with her this close.
“Drago,” she murmurs. “You’ve got that stressed look.”
I smile faintly. “Just thinking about the mess waiting for us.”
“Is it bad?”
“It’s not good,” I admit, covering her hand with mine. “But there’s light ahead. We just have to get there.”
“And then?”
I kiss each of her fingers slowly. “And then… we escape.”
Her eyes light up like I’ve just given her the world. “You’re serious?”
“I promise,” I say, because this future, I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
She leans up and kisses me, soft at first, tentative like she’s checking I’m still here. I don’t last a second. I deepen it immediately, pulling her closer, because restraint has never existed when it comes to her. I’m addicted to everything about her. The way she tastes. The way she sighs into me like she belongs there. I don’t even try to stop myself anymore.
“You need to get some sleep, baby,” I murmur against her lips, forcing myself to pull back. “Otherwise, that champagne is going to punish you tomorrow.”
She pouts, properly pouts, her bottom lip pushed out in a way that makes my chest ache. “I’m fine. The champagne’s already worn off. But I will sleep… only if you’re next to me.”
I don’t need telling twice. I strip out of my clothes, everything but my boxers, and pull back the covers, letting her climb under first. Her eyes don’t even try to be subtle as they track every inch of me.
“Your workouts must be insane,” she breathes. “You are so fucking sexy.”
I chuckle as I slide in beside her, tucking her close, my arm automatically going beneath her head, her cheek settling over my chest as if it has always belonged there.
“I’m trained in martial arts,” I tell her quietly. “That’s my main workout most days. But I lift a lot too.”
Her fingers trace slowly over my abs. “I kinda want to lick them.”
“We need to sleep,” I warn, even though my body reacts instantly.
She sighs dramatically, then presses a kiss to my pec instead. “Martial arts is pretty cool.”
“It’s not just about the body,” I say, stroking her hair. “It’s about training the mind. Control. Awareness. Breathing. I love it.”
It taught me how not to break when the world tried to break me.
“That’s what ballet was for me,” she says softly. “It was what kept me sane.”
The sadness in her voice cuts straight through me.
