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"Kirill."

Several moments pass, and my heart beats harder. He finally turns back, stating, "I hate that you saw it. And I won't lie to you. If I could rewind time, I'd find the bastard who sent it to you and kill them before it ever got into your hands."

I rise on my knees and straddle him, putting both hands on his cheeks, breathing in the scent of leather, rosewater, saffron, jasmine, and all the other notes I still can't figure out. A warmth surrounds me, calming the chaos I haven't escaped since I last saw him.

"Fiona—"

"Kiss me," I order.

Confusion flares in his eyes.

"You don't want to kiss me anymore?"

"I'd never say that," he replies.

"Then kiss me."

"We have to work this out," he claims.

I nod. "Yes. We do. But nothing we can say will erase what either of us saw. It won't change what happened to my parents."

He stays quiet.

I add, "Is there something you have to say to me right now for us to return to where we were?"

He pins his eyebrows together.

Panic hits me. My voice shakes when I say, "You don't want things to be how they used to be?"

He slides his hand up my back and palms my neck.

I inhale sharply, my core lighting on fire.

He gruffly answers, "That's all I want."

Relief fills me. I slide closer, brushing my lips against his, ordering, "Then kiss me and take off your clothes."

His lips curve. He presses one finger at a time on the side of my neck.

I whimper, my breath hitching, but I wait.

He flicks his tongue into my mouth, and all the longing comes to an end.

I rise on my knees, gripping his hair, pressing as close to him as possible, kissing him with every ounce of love I undoubtedly have for him. My other hand reaches for his waist, untying his robe.

He slinks out of it and grabs my hip, then slides me over him.

"Yes," I whisper in a muffled tone against his lips.

He groans, thrusts inside me a few times, then flips me on my back. He lifts my thigh toward the headboard, pushing deeper inside me.

Tingles dance in all my nerves. I moan, "Kirill."

He moves his lips back to mine, urgently flicking his tongue around my mouth. His hand curves around my neck and his fingertips press down one by one.

"Kirill," I breathe through the kiss.

"Hmm," he responds, pressing and flicking with more intensity.