I tear a piece of bread, swipe it through butter, and feed it to her while she’s still straddling me, still connected, still trembling with aftershocks.
She licks the salt from my thumb and I almost take her again right there.
I break the crusty end of the bread, hold it up to her lips. “You burned calories.”
“Vitaly.” She’s watching me like I just handed her my heart, not a hunk of bread.
“Eat.”
She takes it from my fingers with a roll of her eyes and a flushed little smile. “Bossy.”
“You like it.”
“And I like you,” I say. “Even though I’m terrified.”
She stills.
“Of what?” Her thumb traces my jawline.
“Of failing you. Of getting you killed. Of not being enough for what you need.”
She kisses my forehead, my nose, my lips.
“You’re enough, Vitaly. You’re more than enough. You’re home.”
She leans forward, steals the rest of the slice from my hand with her mouth, tongue flicking against my thumb in a way that says she’s not done teasing me yet.
I shake my head, smiling. “You’re trouble.”
She swallows, then cups my jaw. “You’re mine.”
I’ve spent years building a life alone so no one could be used against me.
And she’s offering the opposite.
A life where I’m no one’s weakness, but everyone’s choice.
I press my forehead to hers. “That’s not going to change.”
We finish the water. Pick at the bread. Linger in the low candlelight while the outside world feels miles away. Even though it’s just the other side of the front window.
She sighs again, content this time. “Your place?”
“My place,” I agree. “The bed. The shower. And then anywhere else you’ll let me have you again.”
When she threads her fingers through mine, it feels like coming home.
All my life I thought love meant choosing one person and hoping they didn’t leave.
Juliet… she’s offering me something wider.
A place to belong.
Chapter Seventeen
Juliet
Vitaly’s been a walking orgasm in an apron all week.
