His breath fans hot against my lips, and those storm-gray eyes burn with a truth that terrifies me. “You never could.”
The world tilts.
One heartbeat, we’re locked in a standoff and the next, his mouth is crashing down on mine.
It’s brutal, hungry, a collision of everything we’ve lost and everything we’ve been too afraid to want. The kiss rips the air from my lungs, steals the last of my resistance, and for the first time in years I let myself drown in him.
I yank him closer, fingers digging into his shoulders, and he groans against my mouth, folding me down onto the bed. Clothes become obstacles we tear at blindly, the sharp scrape of teeth against skin, the muffled sound of my name on his lips.
My hands roam greedily, relearning the map of him, every scar, every line of muscle carved harder than before.
I gasp against his mouth when his fingers stretch me open, even as my body arches into his. “This is?—”
“Exactlywhere you belong,lyubimaya.” He growls, silencing me with another kiss, pouring every ounce of possession, of hunger, of raw need into it. “You drive me insane.”
“Good,” I bite back, breathless. “You deserve it.”
By the time he pushes into me, my protesting has all but evaporated, lost to a cry I can’t hold back.
Passion blurs into desperation, the rhythm of us reckless and consuming. Years of grief, of missing him, of aching for him, all spill over until nothing else exists but the way he moves inside me and the way I cling to him like letting go would mean drowning.
When it’s over, when our fire has burned us down to nothing but ragged breaths and trembling limbs, he doesn’t pull away. He stays, forehead pressed to mine.
The truth crashes down harder than ever.
I still love him.
And that might ruin me.
33
MAKSIM
The scent of sex in Ivy’s room still clings to the warmth of her skin, lingering like a perfume.
I lean against the doorway, arms folded as I watch her move. She pulls her sweater over her head, combs her fingers through her hair, shoulders squared like she’s forcing herself back into the ordinary rhythm of her life. But the faint flush still high on her cheeks betrays her. Betrays what we’d just done.
When she comes close, I reach out without thought, brushing the back of my knuckles against her cheek. She stills, eyes flicking up to mine, and I use that moment to catch her lips in a quick, firm kiss. It’s a claim. A reminder of my possession over her.
A soft smile pinches at the corners of her mouth.
She’d gotten the call from Leo’s school a little over half an hour ago, a request to pick him up because of a slight fever he spiked during reading time. Nothing dangerous, but enough to draw Ivy out of my arms and into action.
“I'm coming with you. I want to meet him.”
Her expression shifts, a flicker of instinct to shield him from me. It hardens in her eyes, a protective wall that I know she’s built alone these past seven years. She weighs her options, standing at the edge of her decision. But then, with a small nod, she turns away and heads for the door.
We get into my car. My hand brushes against hers as I close her door, sealing her safely inside. As we drive, I keep that same hand over her thigh, squeezing it. I steal glances at her while pretending to keep my focus on the traffic.
Her profile is carved with tension. She isn’t angry, but something is brewing in her, quiet and inevitable.
Eventually, she speaks. “How long have you known?”
It takes me a beat to catch her meaning. Then I understand.Leo.
“Not long. A few weeks. I found your medical records once I started looking for you. Did the math. Saw the date of birth. Everything lined up.”
When she looks at me, her eyes are wide. Sorrowful. “Are you angry?”
