My tongue runs along the back of my teeth. “But?”
She pulls in a shaky breath, “I’m terrified, Maksim.”
“I know what I’d be asking of you if you came with me,” I say quietly. “I know the danger… Trust me, Ivy, I don’t take any of this lightly.”
Her laugh is bitter. “I’m surprised you haven’t just kidnapped us already.”
The corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. “The thought has crossed my mind.”
That makes her laugh too. The sound cuts through the tension, if only for a moment.
Her face grows serious though once again. “Can you actually guarantee our safety?”
The question guts me becauseno onecan guarantee something like that. Not in my world—not ever. But I will stop at nothing to make sure it will be nearly impossible for anyone to try and cross me like that again. “I will make sure you are the two most protected people in all of Russia. That is my vow to you both. I will build a fortress around you both so sturdy, no enemy will ever reach you.”
Her eyes search mine, wide and vulnerable. Then, something in her softens. I see it in her face, the choice tearing her in two. Slowly, she closes the space between us. Her hands lift, sliding against my chest, then up to my shoulders. She pulls me down, her lips pressing to mine.
I kiss her back, pouring every promise, every plea against her lips. For the first time in months, hope flares in my chest.
Her mouth tastes like strawberries from the ice cream she barely touched earlier, sweet and soft against mine. The kiss begins tentatively, almost fragile, but the moment her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, something inside me snaps.
I grind my hips against hers, feeling the tremor wrack her body, followed by the hesitation laced through her want. She is terrified of what choosing me means, but she’s here, choosing to trust me. I would burn the world to ash before I let that go.
Her lips part beneath mine, a soft gasp breaking free when I press harder. I take the invitation, sliding my tongue against hers, claiming her with every stroke. She tastes like home and heartbreak and everything I’ve been starving for since the day she left me behind.
When I finally pull back, our breaths collide in the small space between us. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown.
“This,” I rasp, my forehead pressing to hers, “is what I’m fighting for.”
Her lips tremble. “Maksim…”
I kiss her again before she can retreat, before fear can take her from me again. This time, she melts into me, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me down harder, deeper.
The sound she makes when I press her down against the cushions is low and needy. I groan into her mouth, my hands sliding up her sides to tuck under her shirt, memorizing the curve of her ribs, and softness of her breasts.
Her body arches into me like she’s starving too.
I pull back just enough to see her lashes flutter, her lips kiss-bruised, her skin flushed. She looks at me like she wants to devour me and run from me all at once.
“Tell me no,” I whisper against her jaw, trailing hot kisses down her neck. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
Her nails bite into my shoulders. “Don’t ever stop.”
Her hands move again to slide under my shirt, her palms burning against my skin. I shudder, growling low in my chest as I strip the fabric off my body and toss it aside. Her eyes roam my chest, hunger sparking bright through the slowly fading hesitation.
I tug at her shirt, fumbling with the buttons, but she beats me to it, ripping it open herself. For one heartbeat, I just stare at the swell of her breasts, at the way her chest rises with every ragged breath she pulls in, at the faint scar between her hips from when Leo was born.
She’s mine, she’salwaysbeen mine, and tonight, she finally lets herself be.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmur, lowering my mouth to the hollow of her collarbone.
She shivers, clutching at me with a low moan escaping her. My fingers trace down her stomach, over the faint scar from Leo’s birth. My lips follow after it. I slide off the couch and tug her toward me again, half dragging her off of it when I throw her legs over my shoulders. I stop at her scar to press my lips to it.
She gasps, her hand threading into my hair, pulling tight. “Maksim…”
“This body gave me my son. You think I don’t worship it? Worshipyou?” I whisper.
Her breath hitches. “Fuck… the way you talk always turns me on.”