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“I’m not lying. Your brother would never believe I wasn’t responsible, and that would have caused a rift between me and Yelena. So yeah, I saved your sorry excuse for an ass. You’re welcome.”

“Hey, my ass may not be as defined as yours, but it’s still a nice ass.” I reached up, slid my fingers into his hair, and tugged. “But that aside, you’re still lying.”

He grunted, wiping the last bit of blood from my fingertips. The wipes dropped from his hand, falling uselessly into the snow.

“Stanislav, I’m fine,” I murmured. “It’s a graze. Nothing more.”

“I don’t care,” he growled. “I just don’t want to worry Yelena if she sees you like this.”

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, especially when you lie to hide how you really feel.”

His nostrils flared. His fists curled in my shirt. The wind cut around us, sharp enough to sting, but he was warm and shaking and furious and mine.

I kissed him.

He didn’t kiss back. He devoured me, crashed his mouth onto mine, sharp teeth and hot breath and pent-up fear disguised as anger. He pushed me harder against the SUV, metal biting into my spine. I opened for him, letting him taste the desire on my tongue, letting him take whatever he needed to take to convince himself that I was still here.

Still alive.

Still breathing.

He slid his hands down my sides, gripped my hips, and pulled me flush into him. Our bodies aligned, heat sparking instantly through layers of denim and winter clothes. I kissed him back harder, fingers in his hair, dragging him into me until he had no choice but to feel exactly how alive I was.

Stas made a low, broken sound in his throat and shoved his thigh between mine, grinding up, trying to get closer—always closer—like he didn’t know what to do with the need choking him. He wasn’t begging with words. He begged with force, hauling me into him like he thought I’d disappear if he let go.

“You’re shaking,” I murmured against his mouth, running my lips down his jaw. “Is it because you want me?”

He didn’t answer, just shoved me harder into the SUV, jerking his hips forward, breath hot and wild against my neck.

“Thought so,” I whispered, heat curling through my gut.

I grabbed his wrist, flipped the pressure, and pinned him back against the door instead. His breath punched out of him, eyes wide, pupils blown. I stepped into his space slowly, deliberately, letting him feel exactly who was in control now.

“Don’t mistake your desperation for dominance,” I said softly, brushing my lips over his. “You’re not leading this. I am.”

Stas sucked in a sharp breath. His hands slid to my waist like he couldn’t stop them. He tried to pull me back against him. I caught his chin in my fingers and forced him to look at me.

“Needy little thing,” I murmured. “Look at you. You’re so desperate for it, and I fucking love that.”

He trembled. He actually trembled.

I kissed him deep, slow, commanding, my teeth on his lower lip, my tongue pushing past his. His whole body arched into mine, helpless to stop himself. The alley around us vanished. There was only heat and want and the delicious sound of him losing control in my hands.

“Yuriy,” he groaned, grabbing my ass and grinding up so our dicks pressed together. The grind slowed my breath. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Nothing.” I dragged my mouth to his ear, smiling when he shuddered. “Yet.”

I dug my fingers under his coat, clutching his shirt. Our cocks slid against each other through fabric, friction building hard and fast. Every push of his hips made my knees weaken.

I bit at his jaw. He groaned, low and broken.

We moved together—fast, frantic, frenzied—frotting through denim like starved animals. Snow melted against my back from the heat pouring off us. His hands were everywhere: my waist, my ass, my hair, my throat.

It wasn’t enough.

I unfastened my jeans and pulled my erection out. I reached for his belt, forcing the metal buckle open like I was opening Pandora’s box. Stas’s hands came down on mine before I could shove his pants and underwear down.

“Wait.”