It’s no longer practice. It’s a challenge, a test of who gives in first, and the taste of it sits heavy in my chest. Every breath turns heavier, every heartbeat louder. I can feel the thrum of hers through the fabric between us—fast, erratic, answering mine.
I pull back just enough to catch her gaze, close enough that our mouths still brush when I speak. “Not bad,” I whisper, and it’s the closest I’ve come in years to losing control.
She glares. “You’re disgusting.”
“And yet you’re still kissing me.”
“I’m proving a point.”
“Then prove it better.”
She does. The next kiss isn’t careful. Her teeth catch my lower lip. A sound escapes me—half laugh, half groan. Control slips for a heartbeat, just enough for my hand to find her waist.
The plane jolts again, almost violently. We break apart. She’s breathless, cheeks flushed. I sit back, forcing my pulse to slow, pretending it’s nothing.
Kira buries her face in her hands. “You’re unbelievable.”
I turn to her calmly. “Now you’re believable. That’s what matters.”
She mutters something about throwing me out of the plane. I ignore it.
Fifteen minutes later, she’s quiet again. When I glance at her, her eyes are closed, head tilted slightly toward me. The flush still lingers on her cheeks. She’s asleep before she realizes she’s leaned into my shoulder.
I should move. Every instinct screams for distance, but I sit perfectly still. The weight of her against me is light, almost nothing, but it roots me to the seat. Her hair brushes my jaw. My men glance back, exchanging looks they think I don’t see.
Lev catches my eye, smirking. I raise one eyebrow. He looks away fast.
Still, I can hear one of them whisper something in Russian—too low but not low enough. A joke. I don’t need to hear the words to know the tone.
The next sound is my voice, calm and cold. “Something funny?”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.”
I let the quiet stretch until it’s uncomfortable. Then I turn back to the window. Kira shifts slightly, murmuring something in her sleep, her fingers brushing my sleeve. I feel it through the fabric—so small, so human it almost hurts.
When the wheels touch down, I move too fast. She startles awake, eyes wide, blinking.
“Where—”
“We’re here.” My voice comes out harsher than I mean it to. I stand, shaking off the stiffness, pretending she never touched me.
She straightens slowly, disoriented. “Right. Italy.”
I reach for my jacket, not looking at her. “Sicily. Keep up.”
Lev lowers the steps, and warm Mediterranean air floods the cabin. My men file out first. Calina and Milana follow. I pause at the doorway.
Kira’s still half-asleep, brushing hair from her face. For a second, I almost reach out to fix a loose strand, then stop myself. Instead, I say, “Don’t embarrass me.”
She blinks, offended. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good,” I say, stepping aside so she can pass. “Because everyone we’re about to meet would love to see me fail.”
Her gaze flickers up, searching my face. “And I’m supposed to stop you from failing?”
“No,” I say, lips curving faintly. “You’ll make it seem like I’m thriving.”
