As her hips thrash, encouraging me to quicken my flicks, Anja groans. She arches her back, and her head falls back on the pillow. Her reactions to my touch and tongue tell me she needs more.
“Oh, Alexey!” Her hips begin grinding harder.
Licking her tender and swollen area, Anja's breath speeds up, and I can sense her orgasm is coming soon. I noticed that as her pregnancy advanced, her arousal came fast and furious.
At that moment, I decide to stop the floor play and advance to the lovemaking. After all, I didn't want to miss out on my own climax.
When I finally slide into her, it is with exquisite care. She is warm and welcoming, her body adjusting to mine with a soft moan that sends heat rushing through me. I move slowly and deliberately, every thrust measured to give her pleasure without overwhelming her. One hand stays on her belly, feeling our child move between us, while the other braces beside her head.
The rhythm we find is intimate and deep. Not rushed. Not frantic. It is the culmination of months of respect, attraction, and the slow dismantling of every wall we both built. Her hands grip my shoulders, nails digging in just enough to anchor her as pleasure builds.
Leans down, I kiss her through it all, not stopping with her mouth, but also her neck. I find the sensitive spot beneath her ear and whisper words of love and devotion against her skin.
When she comes, it is with a quiet cry, her body tightening around me in waves that pull me over the edge withher. I hold her through it, burying my face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in as release washes over us both.
My climax comes with a shudder throughout my entire body, and collapses from sexual adrenaline before I'm able to stop it.
Afterward, I stay inside her for a long moment, simply holding her close. I am careful as I shift us, pulling her against my chest so her head rests over my heart. My hand returns to her belly, feeling the baby settle after the movement.
Anja’s fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest, brushing over the faint scars there.
“I love you,” she whispers again, voice soft with exhaustion and emotion.
“I love you too,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her hair. “More than I ever thought possible.”
We lie together in the quiet, the nursery light still visible through the open door across the hall. The proposal has sealed what we’ve become, but I know her heart still needs time to fully believe it. The ghosts of her past do not vanish overnight, but I’ll be here until they do.
I make another silent vow as she drifts toward sleep in my arms.
I will prove it to her every single day.
That choosing me is not another cage.
That this life, our life, is the safest place she will ever know.
The war with Fadir is ending.
But the real work of building our future has only just begun.
I am ready for all of it.
Chapter 25 - Anja
The wedding day arrives with quiet elegance and Bratva-level security.
It is held in the private garden of the Sokolov estate under strings of soft lights that twinkle like stars against the deepening evening sky. The air is warm and fragrant with blooming roses and fresh-cut grass.
Security is discreet, but absolute, as men are positioned at every entrance, with subtle earpieces, the kind of protection that makes you feel both safe and aware that this world still carries warnings. Yet tonight, they feel distant. Tonight is for us.
I walk down the aisle eight months pregnant in a flowing ivory gown that drapes beautifully over my bump. The fabric is soft and lightweight, designed to move with me rather than restrict.
My long black hair falls loose around my shoulders, the auburn highlights catching the glow of the setting sun and the twinkling lights overhead. I carry a simple bouquet of white roses and lavender, my hands trembling only slightly as I grip the stems.
Alexey waits for me at the end of the aisle.
He stands tall and devastating in an off-black suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt open at the collar just enough to show the faint scar along his jaw. His eyes lock onto mine the moment I appear, steady and anchoring.
When old fears try to rise, the whisper that I am still the damaged girl from back home who doesn’t belong in this kind of beauty, his gaze holds me steady. He doesn’t look at me like a prize or a pawn. He looks at me like I am home.
