“Fuck.” He whispers.
His fingers sweep my cheek before he pulls them away, his eyes staring into the darkest parts of my soul. “You are worth dying for, lastochka.”
The words hit too close, too hard. I look away, my gaze dropping to the wooden floor as if it might steady me, asif grounding myself will stop the tremor running through my chest. I don’t trust my face. I don’t trust my voice.
His fingers slip beneath my chin, guiding my face back up to his. I don’t fight it. I can’t. His eyes search mine, flicking briefly to my lips and back again.
“You’re worth dying for, Lily,” he repeats, slower this time. “And you’re worth starting wars for.”
The words settle between us, pressing into my ribs until it’s hard to breathe. I know exactly what he means. This could explode everything in his world.
“Drago,” I breathe out.
Even I can hear the faint Russian accent in my voice as I say his name. I keep it hidden most of the time, except around him.
A darkness flashes across his eyes, and it’s like a switch goes off. The final shred of restraint we were holding onto is burned.
“Say my name like that one more time, and I’ll forget every single reason I’m not supposed to kiss you, Lily.” His breath beats against my lips, his stare holding me in place. And his hand travels softly from my chin, down to my neck, where his fingers gently settle.
I don’t hesitate. I want him. I need him more than I’ve ever needed anything in my damn life. “Kiss me, Drago.”
His huge hands cup my cheeks, and his lips crash over mine.
This time, he doesn’t hesitate.
There’s no pause. No flicker of restraint snapping back into place. He kisses me like he’s made a decision and accepted the cost of it. Like whatever line existed no longer matters because he’s already crossed it.
I gasp into his mouth, and he takes advantage of it instantly, deepening the kiss, claiming the space between us like it’s his by right. His body presses into mine, and my back hits the wall with a soft thud that sends a shiver through me.
His kiss is devastating.
Slow where it needs to be. Demanding where it counts. His thumb strokes my jaw, his palm firm at the back of my neck, holding me exactly where he wants me. Like letting go is no longer an option that he’s willing to entertain.
I melt into him without shame, without doubt. My fingers slide into his hair, gripping hard, anchoring myself to him as if I’ve been waiting my whole life for this exact moment.
He groans quietly into my mouth, a sound pulled straight from his chest, and it does something wicked to me. My knees weaken, and he feels it, adjusting instantly, one arm wrapping around my waist to hold me up like he knew this would happen. Like he planned for it. Like this man knows me better than I know myself.
Breaking the kiss just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm and uneven against my skin.
“Lily,” he murmurs, my name sounds like a confession.
I should be scared. I should be thinking about the consequences.
Instead, all I feel is relief. Something inside me has finally settled into place. A piece of the puzzle of my life has slotted in.
“Please tell me this isn’t just a one-and-done moment,” I whisper, my lips brushing his.
His eyes lock onto mine, dark and unflinching. “No. One taste was never going to be enough, Lily.”
No hesitation. No armor. Just truth.
“Are you choosing me?”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. His grip tightens at my waist. “I already have,” he says quietly.
“Then don’t stop now,” I whisper.
Something breaks in him. He kisses me again, slower this time, deeper. His hands roam my back. Every touch says the same thing.
