My chest tightens at his words. For a moment, I can feel the pulse of everything he’s held back—anger, fear, desire, love—all wrapped into one. And in that stillness, in the way he holds my wrist like he might shatter if he lets go, I realize that I’ve never seen him this vulnerable, this human.
The moment turns molten. Electric.
I rise onto my toes, my fingers curling into his shirt, and press my mouth to his—slow, claiming, deliberate. He freezes for half a heartbeat, like he didn’t expect me to choose him this boldly, this clearly…and then he’s kissing me back.
The horse in the stall nickers softly, shifting straw beneath its hooves, as thunder brews again in the distance. The kiss deepens, fierce and inevitable. His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, consuming the weeks of distance he forced between us. I taste frustration, longing, the raw ache he’s tried to bury.
He breaks the kiss only to murmur against my mouth, voice rough, “You have no idea what you do to me.”
I nip his lower lip, breath shaky. “Then stop pretending you don’t feel it.”
“Oh, I feel it,” he murmurs. “I’ll show you how much.”
His movements turn quick and sharp from then on. He pushes me against the dusty wall, hands pushing up my dress and yanking down my panties.
His finger sinks into my heat, and I gasp into the wall, hands clutching for dear life.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, excitement in his voice. “I’ve suffered these past few weeks,krasavitsa.”
“Stop talking. I want to feel you inside me,” I demand.
He releases an animalistic growl and thrusts inside me.
“We’re going all night,” he murmurs, licking my ear. “I want you so bad.”
He wraps an arm around my waist and pounds me like a rag doll. I scream, my body thrumming with desire and passion, jerking back to meet every stroke with my own.
He pulls out of me and takes off his shirt, spreading it on the hay-covered floor. Then he gently lowers me onto it, covering my body with his. I guide his erection into my heat and gasp as he resumes pounding with the same relentless energy.
We explode at the same time, and he gathers me in his arms, his mouth trailing kisses down my chest, sucking my nipples into his mouth. Desire coils in my belly, and I purr in satisfaction when I feel him go erect again.
“Vivian…” he growls against my skin, voice rough, already losing control. His hands grip my hips like he’s anchoring himself.
But I thread my fingers into his hair and tug gently, forcing his gaze up to mine. My pulse is wild, but my voice is steady.
“I’ve made my decision,” I whisper.
He stills. Completely. The tension snaps back into his body like a whip.
“What?”
I cup his jaw, holding his face in both hands as his chest rises and falls against mine.
“I know what I want done about my father.”
The storm in his eyes darkens. “Vivian….”
“Send him away,” I say quietly. “Somewhere far. Somewhere he can never return from. I don’t want his blood on my hands…but I don’t want him in my life either.”
His jaw clenches. His breath hits my lips. The violence inside him stirs—protective, lethal, loyal only to me now.
“You’re sure?” he asks, voice barely a rasp.
“Yes.” My fingers trace his cheek, an anchor for both of us. “Do whatever must be done. I don’t ever want to see him again.”
For a long moment, he just stares at me—like he’s memorizing the woman I’ve become, the strength I didn’t have before.
Then he nods once, slow, reverent.
