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It’s the longest I’ve ever taken to seat myself in a woman. The most deliberately I’ve ever done so.

And when I’m buried in her, still upright, her calves hooked over my hips and her head thrown back, I look down the length of her body and think: I could do this, I could worship this woman for the rest of my life. Blindly and happily.

It’s a dangerous thought.

One I don’t hold on to, because Matilda lets out a low sound of protest and my hips draw back like she’s said a magic word. I press into her again, my eyes practically closing at the almost over-stimulating drag of her warm pussy over my cock.

And again. Pulling out until the pressure is almost too much, pressing back in until she’s panting open-mouthed.

Then I lean over her and take a nipple into my mouth, sucking and rolling it against my tongue.

“Vas—” she gasps, a hand going to the back of my neck.

I open my mouth with a wet pop and her lips are on mine immediately, as warm and welcoming as her pussy. I get lost in her, all of her, giving in to my body and hers as I fuck into her. I’m still slow but no longer trying to control it, pressing my tongue into her mouth with the same rhythm and swallowing her moans.

It doesn’t take long; that’s the crazy part.

I could draw this out. A little voice buried somewhere in the back of my head whispers. Tries to tempt me into slowing down, squeezing the base of my shaft, making her beg for it.

But I can’t. I can’t do that to her. I want to give her everything she wants, and the way she’s gripping my shoulders and rolling her hips into me, the way she’s whispering Yes, please, that, fuck, I—She stops herself short of saying something she might regret.

That does me in. Matilda’s wide blue eyes staring up at me in shock as I do so much more than fuck her. One of my hands beneath her back to hold her close, the other smoothing through her wild hair.

It’s that moment that sends me over the edge. Everything in me tightens, hot desire spilling over as I groan and pump into her, and Matilda comes with me. Her pussy squeezes me so tight I think I might pass out.

I’ll never come back from this.

Never.

That’s the only thought on repeat in my brain as we both slow down. Try to catch our breath.

Try not to think about love, and what it means, and if it’s here with us.

Chapter 29

Matilda

The moment my boots hit the ground on the helipad that Vasily somehow has all to himself at the airstrip, my stomach turns.

I barely make it three steps from the helicopter before I bend over and throw up. A mix of coffee, a cinnamon muffin, and a slice of bacon swiped from Vasily’s breakfast sandwich before our hurried flight back to the Adirondacks.

“Oh, God.”

I straighten slowly, wiping my mouth and staring at the ground as though it has personally betrayed me. The last thing I want to do is look up and meet his eyes.

But it isn’t necessarily being sick all over the asphalt that’s embarrassing. I do everything I can not to think of last night, of the way I gave myself to him, completely, in a way I’ve never given myself to anyone.

The look in his eyes was too much.

I need to finish this job and get out of here. That’s what I keep telling myself, over and over. And it feels especially terrifying that the place I lost all control over how I feel about this man was New York. A place less than a ten-minute taxi ride away from my own home, from the place he kidnapped me.

“You’re okay?”

Spit gathers in my mouth again, and I clamp my teeth down tight. The strange thing is…I don’t feel sick. Not really.

There’s no lingering nausea, no dizziness, nothing except the sudden, violent need to empty my stomach.

“Matty?”