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His eyes are bright, cloudless. He’s staring down at me like he can’t believe I’m in his arms. For some reason, that is enough to convince me thisisreal. Because I would never in my wildest dreams imagine Ivan could look quite this stunned.
He’s here.
Ivan Pushkin is standing in front of me, alive and real.
The enormity of it slams into me and, before I can stop myself, I hook my hands around his neck and kiss him.
His mouth fits against mine the way I knew it would. Then his tongue swipes across my lower lip and there is suddenly nothing at all comfortable about the gnawing ache in my stomach. One flick of his tongue and my body is onfire.
“I missed you,” I gasp against his mouth. “I want you.”
I arch against him. I feel how much he wants me pressed against my stomach. I slip my hand between us, stroking him roughly.
“Fuck.” He presses his stubbled cheek against mine. His breathing is heavy in my ear.
I am cataloging every detail of this. Ofhim.The million tiny things I didn’t know if I’d ever experience again.
It all feels so precious. But I can feel it slipping through my fingers. Time is short and I don’t want to waste a second of it.
I stroke him again, drawing a deep groan from his chest. Then I move to unbutton his pants.
But Ivan grabs my wrist. “We can’t. Fuck, I want to, but—” His forehead drops to mine. I look into his eyes, but the amber is gone, devoured by dark desire. “When I’m inside you again, Cora, I’m going to take my time. It’s something that can’t be done in a few minutes. I need hours. Days.A whole fucking lifetime.”
My whole body warms. I trail my hand over his chest and cup his cheek. “You can’t talk to me like that and expect me to wait.”
He huffs out a soft laugh. “Who said anything about waiting?”
I’m about to ask what he means when he spins me around and presses me to the tile wall. Slowly,so slowly, he kisses his way down my body and drops to his knees.
A dark tendril of hair falls over his forehead as he looks up at me.
I’m absolutely positive there is no sight more beautiful in all the world than this mountain of a man on his knees.
Then he pushes my dress up around my waist and I can’t savor anything. I don’t have the brain space for it. All I can focus on is the heat of his breath against my damp panties. The scrape of his beard against my inner thigh.
He hooks my leg over his shoulder and I melt back against the wall. I’m balanced between him and the tile, which is good, because I don’t think I can stand on my own.
Then he shoves my panties to the side and I moan.
Suddenly, I realize that there is no way I’ll be able to get through this without screaming. There is no way we can do this without me alerting every human within a ten-mile radius that Ivan is eating me out like his life depends on it.
“Wait!” I tug on his hair, trying and failing to pull him away from the ache between my thighs. “Wait. I can’t—I’ll scream, Ivan. I can’t—”
He reaches up and presses a palm flat over my lips. “Save your screams,solnishka. Save them for when they count.”
I kiss the tip of his finger just as he kisses my clit. He flicks his tongue against me and then delves deeper. He tastes me in long strokes, lapping from top to bottom and bottom to top and kissing every point along the way.
I writhe under his touch. “Ivan,” I gasp, raking my fingers through his silky soft hair.
He strokes his hands up and down my thighs. He reaches under my dress and grips my waist. One hand curls over the lace of my bra, kneading my breast.
He’s everywhere all at once. All I can do is press back against the wall and take it.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” he growls. I feel the vibration at my core. Goosebumps sprout across my skin.
“I need you,” I whimper, clutching my leg around his neck to draw him closer. “I need you inside of me. I need to feel you. I need—”
Ivan slides a finger inside of me. It isn’t what I meant, but I gasp anyway. My hips jerk, taking in even more of him.
