Emotion rose sharp and sudden.She smiled, eyes bright.“Thank you for always putting my needs first.”She stepped into him and lifted her face.“I want this,” she said clearly.
A sound tore from his chest, half relief, half reverence.“Thank fuck,” he murmured.
She kissed him—no longer tentative, no longer testing.This time, there was intention behind it.Want.He answered, deeper now, still careful, still hers to command.
****
Her mouth was stillon his when the world finally narrowed to the two of them.
Nikolai had been trained for restraint.For distance.For holding the line even when every instinct told him to close the gap.But nothing in that training had prepared him for the way Eliza kissed—like a choice being made in real time, deliberate and unafraid.
He kept his hands at her waist, not moving higher, not taking more than she had already offered.When she drew back, searching his face, he didn’t chase.He waited.
“I need to know I’m in control,” she said softly.
“You are,” he answered without hesitation.“You always will be.”
Something in her eyes softened.
He watched every breath she took, every minute shift of her shoulders, attuned to the smallest change.When she nodded, just once, he asked anyway, seeking verbal confirmation.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
He moved slowly, never breaking eye contact as his fingers found the edge of her clothing.Each touch was a question, each pause an invitation for her to stop him.When she didn’t, when she lifted her arms to let him help her out of what she was wearing, something tight in his chest finally loosened.
When she stood before him, bare and unguarded, his breath caught.Not with hunger—with awe.
He stepped back only long enough to strip himself quickly, efficiently, as if speed were the only way to keep from overwhelming her with what he was feeling.Then he was there again, facing her, close but not touching.
“You set the rules,” he said quietly.“At your speed.Whatever you want from me, I give.Whatever you don’t offer, I don’t take.”
Her smile was small, luminous.
“Thank you,” she whispered.“For always putting what I need first.”
The words hit him harder than any weapon ever had.
She stepped into him then, closing the last inch of space between them, her hands resting against his chest.Her voice didn’t waver.
“I want this.”
Relief crashed through him, fierce and sudden.“Thank fuck,” he breathed.
When he kissed her again, it was deeper—still careful, still controlled, but no longer restrained by doubt.He poured everything he hadn’t said into that kiss: the wanting, the waiting, the vow he had made long before she ever knew his name.
For the first time in years, Nikolai didn’t feel like a weapon.
He felt chosen.
And that was everything.
Nikolai had been trained for restraint.For distance.For holding the line even when every instinct told him to close the gap.But the way Eliza kissed him—intentional, chosen—unmade that training in the best possible way.
He lifted her then, and placed her gently in the center of the bed, and came down beside her, he held himself up on his elbow, to look down at her, then leaned in for another kiss.
He drew back just enough to look at her.Really look.