I come hard, spilling inside her with a blinding orgasm. White light explodes behind my eyes. Every muscle goes rigid and releases in waves of intense, almost painful pleasure.
She collapses forward, but I catch her and pull her to me. Falling back onto the couch, I keep her close, still buried in her as she sits in my lap. The warmth from the fire mixes with the heat from her languid body pressed against my chest.
My breathing is ragged, and under my hand, her heart hammers every bit as hard as mine. We both tremble. I’ve never felt so fucking good.
Scooping her up, I carry her to the bed so we can both be comfortable. I fall in beside her, drawing the blankets up as she snuggles against my chest.
I’m going to enjoy this perfect moment before everything goes to hell again.
Chapter 28
Max
Morning comes quietly, the scent of roses and soft warmth dragging me from sleep. I’m so disoriented, I’m not even sure I’m awake. But even in my dreams, I’ve never experienced anything like this.
Nika’s leg drapes over my hip. Her head rests on my chest, my scars peeking through her white strands. Two people who should be enemies entwined with each other like we’re the only ones in the world.
I should get up and stoke the fire. Start planning my next step and figuring out what the hell happens now.
Warm breath glides over my chest. I flex the arm she’s lying on and tug her closer, relishing in these foreign sensations.
I don’t want this to end.
Still, I know it has to.
Nika’s Roman’s daughter, but she’s also my enemy.
She’s a victim but essentially Sasha’s murderer.
For the past year, she’s tormented my family. Driven Roman mad, nearly gotten several people killed, and forced me to shoot an innocent man.
But she was also a child when she lost everything, just like me. Even if Roman didn’t kill Lilia, Nikabelieveshe did—and had nothing but vengeance to fuel her for fifteen years.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think of or do with her. At this point, just lying here in her bed is more than enough to keep my brain buzzing.
Her hand slides across my ribs, over scars she applied salve to while I was unconscious.
A killer soothing a killer.
Who would have thought a woman like her could be so nurturing? This chick’s got layers, but not all of them are anger and pain. Not when you get closer to her core.
She shifts in my arms, and I glance down to find dark eyes staring up at me.
For several moments, the silence stretches. Not uncomfortable, just heavy with what we’ve done. Words we haven’t said. Everything that’s been building for days and finally fractured last night when she kissed me.
Her voice breaks through, cracking at the edges. “I had it all once.”
I don’t respond because I’m not sure how to. This sounds deeper than anything I know how to deal with, but I can still listen if she wants to talk.
“Before Isla de Huesos. Before everything went wrong. I had…” Her hand tightens against my ribs, and her breathing becomes shallower. Faster. Like even discussing this costs her. “I had the kind of childhood people write stories about. The kind that feels like a dream when you reflect. Too perfect. Too good. Like it couldn’t have been real.”
I can’t relate. My childhood was broken as they come.
I reach up and card my fingers through her hair in a small gesture of comfort.
“My mother was incredible. Beautiful. Kind. She smelled like flowers. She’d tuck me in every night and share stories. Not fairy tales. Real stories about her childhood in Moscow. About how she met my father. About the kind of woman I’d grow up to be.”
Her voice cracks slightly on the word father. I file that away but don’t interrupt. My palm itches with the need to touch her more, but I don’t want to screw up. So I just press her closer, my hand still on her hair. She offers me a small smile before resting her face against my chest.
