His forehead touched mine.
“My wife,” he said, thrusting into me. “My future. The mother of my children when you choose it. The woman I took from a room that didn’t understand what it was touching.”
I came apart around him.
It started deep, where he filled me, then rushed outward until I couldn’t separate the pleasure from the pressure of his body or the rough devotion in his voice. I cried his name into his mouth. He swallowed it and drove into me harder, his control finally breaking all the way.
His rhythm turned fierce.
I held on.
Not endured.
Held.
Vadim buried his face against my neck, thrust once, twice, then shoved deep with a harsh sound that seemed torn out of his chest. Heat pulsed inside me. His body locked over mine. His hand slid beneath my hip and held me close while he emptied himself into me.
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
His weight was heavy.
I liked it.
That scared me less than it should have.
Vadim lifted himself before I had to ask, but not far. He stayed inside me, breath rough against my cheek, his hand moving over my hair once.
“Are you hurt?”
I swallowed. “No.”
“Sore?”
“Very.”
“Proud?”
I huffed a weak laugh. “Insufferably.”
“Good.”
I turned my face into his neck.
He eased out of me slowly. I clenched at the loss, and I hated that he felt it because his eyes went dark again.
“No,” I said. “You do not get to look pleased right now. I need water and possibly a new spine.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“That’s not how spines work.”
“I know several doctors.”
I laughed again, softer.
Vadim went still above me.
I knew that stillness now. Not danger. Attention.
