“I’ve fallen in love with you,” he says carefully, his fingers tightening on my waist.
My heart stutters so hard it almost hurts.
All the fear, chaos, blood, and danger that seem to orbit his life fade into the background. There’s only him, sitting here with me, holding me like I’m something precious.
“I think,” I whisper, breathless, “I fell for you a while ago. Even though I tried so hard to fight it.”
His thumb traces the curve of my jaw, and when he kisses me, it’s slow and warm and impossibly gentle, like he’s memorizing me. His kiss lingers, slow and thoughtful, making my pulse pound even harder somehow.
I stay tucked against him, my fingers tracing the line of his collar, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. For a man who commands rooms and armies without raising his voice, he’s strangely quiet now, almost contemplative, as though he’s standing on the edge of something.
“What are you thinking?” I ask softly.
Kaz’s hands slide up my back, broad and warm, settling between my shoulder blades. He hesitates, which in itself is so rare that it makes me tense.
“There is something,” he says carefully. “Something I’ve been considering.”
That tone usually precedes a business acquisition or a threat, not whatever this is.
I tilt my head. “You’re scaring me a little.”
A faint huff of amusement brushes my ear. “I’m trying not to.”
He leans back just enough to look at me, those dark eyes searching my face like he’s bracing for impact. “This engagement,” he says, slower than usual. “It began as strategy. Protection. A performance for the public.” His thumb strokes along my hip, grounding himself. “But I don’t want it to be fake anymore.”
“I would prefer,” he continues, voice roughening as I go still in his grip, “if it were real. If you were truly mine. Not as a shield, but because you choose to be.”
The room suddenly feels very small and very quiet.
I’ve never pictured myself as someone’s wife. Growing up, marriage always looked like a cage, a slow surrender of yourself piece by piece until nothing was left but obligation. The idea used to make my skin crawl.
“I never wanted to be a wife,” I admit, watching his expression tighten just a fraction. “Not like that. Not the way most women are expected to be. My mom taught me, whether she wanted to or not, that marriage—any kind of relationship with a man—ties you down and traps you.”
His jaw sets, already preparing to back off, grip loosening.
“But,” I add gently, touching his cheek, “you don’t make me feel owned. You make me feel like a partner. Like I get a say.”
“If I can still work,” I continue, “if I can still be me and have my own life and my own decisions, then I’m not scared of moving in that direction with you. I just can’t disappear into someone else.”
“You won’t,” he says immediately, fierce and certain. “I would never take that from you. I want you strong, independent and at my side, not behind me.”
Relief loosens something in my chest.
He pulls me close again, kissing me with a depth that makes my toes curl. “I’ll call the lawyer in the morning,” he murmurs against my lips. “We draw up a new contract. A real one.”
I laugh into his mouth. “Only you would propose with legal paperwork.”
“It’s romantic,” he insists gravely.
“It’s veryyou. But you have to promise—no more helicopters showing up at my job.”
His smile turns wicked and warm all at once as he lifts me fully onto the bed, hands gentle despite their strength, and the rest of the world falls away.
At first, I’m sure this will just be losing ourselves in lazy kisses, his tongue dragging across my lips to coax them open. I sigh against him, giving him access to anything he wants, to everything as he cages me in with his body, bracing himself above me. Kaz kisses me slowly and deliberately, taking his time. The room darkens naturally as I get lost in the sensations of him claiming me languorously.
I don’t realize how deep in I am until he pulls away and I chase after him with a breathless whine.
Kazimir Baranov,Pakhanof the Savannah Bratva, grins down at me wickedly. “Is there something you want,fiancé?”
