"Make me feel it." I pull him down to me. "Make me feel alive."
He kisses me again, slower this time, tenderly. His hands strip away my clothing until I'm naked beneath him, and then he just looks at me for a long moment.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "You're so fucking beautiful."
I reach for his belt, fumbling with the buckle. He helps me, stripping off the rest of his clothes until we're both bare. He settles between my thighs, his weight pressing me into the mattress. He kisses every inch of skin he can reach, his hands mapping my body like he's memorizing it. I gasp at the glide of his lips over my body, the feeling of his hands on my legs, sliding over my skin, spreading me open for him.
He's so gorgeous, every inch of him, and he's mine. I can hardly believe it. I've never imagined myself with a man like him, but now that he's here—that we're here together—I can't imagine anything else.
He leans down and kisses me as I feel him press against my opening. "I wanted to go slower," he murmurs roughly. "Touch you, taste you… but I need to be inside of you. I need?—"
"We can do all that later." I tangle my legs with his, urging him closer. "I want you inside of me, too."
His hips tilt and he slides in slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. I feel the stretch of him, the burn and then the intense pleasure of the piercings as they pop into me one by one, and I moan, arching into him. "That's perfect," I gasp, rocking my hips against his. "You're perfect."
"Not perfect." He thrusts into me with long, slow strokes. "But yours."
"Yes," I whisper. "Yes,Andrei?—"
He moans at the sound of his name on my lips, his hips quickening as he picks up the pace. His hand slides between us, finding my clit, and circles it with his thumb, matching the rhythm of his hips. "Come for me,ptitsa," he commands. "Let me feel you."
I shatter around him, my orgasm rolling through me in waves. He follows moments later, his face buried in my neck, my name on his lips as I feel him fill me, throbbing, the two of us joined together and pleasure washing over us both.
We stay like that for a long time, tangled together, breathing hard. Eventually he rolls to the side, pulling me with him so I'm tucked against his chest. His hand strokes up and down my spine in a soothing rhythm.
"I should tell you," he says after a while. "About what happened after the cabin."
I tense slightly. "My father?"
"Surrendered." His voice is matter-of-fact. "Once Volkov was dead and you and I were being evacuated, his men scattered. Viktor's forces secured the perimeter. Your father was taken into custody by his own security team and removed from the scene."
"Is he—" I can't quite finish the question.
"Alive. In a hospital, under guard." Andrei's hand continues its soothing motion. "The shoulder wound wasn't life-threatening. He'll recover. But he's probably going to go to prison. Which…" He pauses. "I know that's difficult to hear. But you'll be safe from him. And so will I. He's no longer a threat to either of us."
I don't know how to feel about that. I feel relief that I'm not responsible for my father's death, and grief that the man I thought I knew never really existed. Anger at his betrayal.
"And the Volkov family?" I prompt.
"Destabilized completely." There's satisfaction in his voice now. "Without Volkov's leadership, they fractured. Some of their territories have been absorbed into our operations. Some of their men have switched loyalty—they'd rather work for apakhanwho's alive than follow a dead man's legacy."
"So you won." I tilt my head back to look at him. "You won the war."
"We won." He corrects, his hand coming up to cup my face. "You were right about the meeting, even if it didn't go the way we planned. Your father showing his true colors, Volkov being there—it gave me the justification I needed to eliminate the threat completely. My men saw me take down Volkov. They saw me protect you. They saw me survive."
"What about the ones who wanted me dead?" I ask quietly. "The ones who thought I was making you weak?"
"They've changed their minds." A dark smile crosses his face. "Turns out, the woman who threw herself in front of a gunto protect theirpakhanisn't a weakness. She's someone worth respecting."
"You told them about that?"
"Didn't have to. Viktor told them. And then they saw the aftermath—saw how I fought to protect you, how I eliminated our enemies, how I secured victory. They understand now that you don't make me weak. You make me stronger."
I stare at him for a long moment. "So they accept me?"
"They respect you." He kisses my forehead. "But it's a start."
"And you?" I search his face. "Do you still think I make you weak?"
