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“Rule number three,” I said, “if you’re going to assassinate a man, you’re not allowed to also buy him dessert the same week. That’s called emotional fraud, punishable by crushing your nuts with a hammer.”

A huff escaped him, then another. Then a real, reluctant chuckle—soft, rusty, like something that hadn’t been used often. I froze for half a second just to enjoy it. Then I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth where the sound had come from.

“Rule number four: If you accidentally fall in love with your rival, you are required to pretend you’re still terrifying even while spooning.”

“That one’s true,” he muttered. “I’ve heard it no fewer than a dozen times.”

I laughed quietly against his jaw.

“And rule number five”—I slid my hands down his back—“whoever orders a hit when a truce is called has to admit they’re a massive fucking hypocrite and make it up to the person they targeted.”

His breathing turned heavy.

“And how,” he asked slowly, “would one… make up for that?”

I pressed my mouth to his throat and applied pressure.

“Reparations,” I said. “Daily worship. A shocking amount of orgasms. Radical honesty. And maybe⁠—”

I nudged my thigh between his.

“—not having your armed man disrupt my sleep next time. I was looking forward to conducting my experiment.”

His hands tightened on my hips.

“What experiment?”

“If you’d wake up faster from me eating your ass or sucking your dick.”

“Sounds like an important experiment for sure.” He nodded, schooling his features into a serious look. “Definitely a contender for a Nobel Prize.”

I smiled into his shoulder as I turned him around and took his wrists, lifting his hands and pinning them above his head against the glass. Steam haloed his body while beads of water tracked slowly down his spine. My attention dropped exactly where it wanted to be.

I cupped his ass and lifted to feel the weight of it in my palms, then let it fall back into place. The soft, perfect bounce made my pulse stutter. I did it again—once more, just because I could—watching the supple curve of him move, feeling the heat of him settle back against my thighs like an invitation he didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t giving.

God, his ass was unfair. Not just round. Not just firm. But pliant in the way that made my fingers flex on instinct, in the way that begged to be touched and used and worshipped. Water streaked down over that smooth curve like it had a mind of its own, catching in the slope of him before disappearing down his legs.

I dragged my hands slowly over him, pressing my thumbs between his cheeks to play around with his hole, still pouty and swollen from last night.

“Stas—”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but with this gorgeous ass of yours, you were born to be fucked. Born to feel a man’s hot seed dripping from your cunt.”

Stas groaned, dropping his head forward to the glass. “You have such a filthy mouth, Yuriy.”

“All the better to lick your ass, my dear.” Reaching around his front, I found his erection and stroked him while I circled his rim with my other hand. He gasped, tilting his hips and widening his legs. His stance was that of a man who wanted to feel his man’s dick all the way up his diaphragm.

“Yuriy,” he moaned, jerking his hips back to ride the tip of my finger. He was so fucking desperate for it, and my cock grew hard from seeing him this way, head thrown back and eyes closed.

I pressed my lips to his neck and suckled. “What did Nico want?”

He didn’t answer, but to be fair, he might not have heard me. He was too busy grinding, seeking more from my fingers. I lined two up and gently shoved the tips inside.

“Oh god.”

I removed my fingers and slapped his ass. “Tell me. What did Nico want?”