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Anger bubbles up—not towards Kira, but at the sacrifices she’s made to get justice. Like marrying me. It's a painful echo of my own past. In Kira, I see a reflection of the grief I've carried within me since Ilya's death. She’s felt loss and pain like I have, and her determination to get revenge strikes a chord.
I tighten my hand wrapped around her jaw. “I’m going to hunt down Masha’s killer, and I’m going to do to them exactlywhat was done to her. You can even watch. Every ounce of pain they inflicted, I'll return tenfold. They’ll know the true meaning of fear and despair, like Masha did.” Slowly, I tip her chin up, but her eyes are still downcast, her brow pinched. “Look at me,” I demand.
She drags her gaze up to mine. The anger she was hiding behind now gives way to something else.
Bloodthirst. Determination.
The same drive that consumed me when I sought vengeance for Ilya’s death. I razed half of Moscow to get my revenge, and I succeeded. Annihilating the syndicate that dared to come after my family.
She meets my eyes without flinching, holding my stare. "Whatever they did to my aunt, I will do to them. I want to help."
“Whatever you want.” I rub my thumb over her bottom lip and whisper, “Whatever you want, I will give you.”
A mixture of vulnerability and hope dances in her gaze. "Why? After everything, why would you do that for me?" she asks, still in my arms.
“I don’t fucking care if you married me for some twisted revenge plot—you wear my ring. You are my wife.” Kira’s eyes round in surprise, and truthfully, my words surprise me too. I don’t want a wife and everything that comes with it, but the idea of leaving Kira alone to battle the world sets my skin ablaze. “You’re a Belov now, and that makes you mine to protect. You’ll never fight another battle alone.”
Her teeth sink into her plush bottom lip, and my cock throbs in response. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing.”
I cup her jaw and capture her mouth, teasing the seam of her lips with my tongue until they part, granting me entry. I delve inside, our tongues intertwining. Unlike the kiss after themayor's house, driven by anger and possessiveness, this kiss is a wildfire, unchecked and brimming with lust.
She groans when I twist my hand in her hair and angle her head so I have better access to her lips.
Fuck, her lips. She tastes good. So good.
A rush of heat from my chest spirals downward, and I grind my rock-hard cock into her soft belly, reveling in her warmth.
A distant voice tells me this is a bad idea. Because I’m already addicted to how her lips taste. If I feast on her pussy and taste her cum, I’ll be in too deep. Once my dick is buried in her tight, beautiful cunt, I’ll be a goner.
Fuck, my wife is going to ruin me.
And I’m going to let her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
KIRA
The sensationof Maxim's tongue exploring my mouth and his hand grazing the naked skin of my stomach feels like bliss. My eyelids flutter closed, a whimper slipping out as I'm lost in the overwhelming taste and touch of him.
Fuck this man, and fuck what he does to me. How he makes me feel. How he destroyed my world only to build it back up. He let me cry and rage, and accuse him of murder, my body collapsing into his as years of grief poured out of me. And he didn’t flinch, not once.
Maxim is many things, but he’s not a liar nor a coward. Even through my haze of grief, I saw the truth shining in his eyes. He even offered up the proof, but somewhere deep inside, I know I don’t need it.
I believe him.
Drained of emotion, the only thing I’m capable of right now is feeling. Feeling the hot slide of his tongue against mine, feeling his hand under my shirt and in my bra, pulling at mynipples. The way his cock pulsates against me. All I know for sure is I want more of this.
I pull back for a breath, trailing my hand down his hot bare chest.This chest. Despite the fall chill, it glistens with sweat. I was mesmerized by the sight of his physique during the fight. The body that this man hides underneath his tailored suits is fiiiine. He has the form of a fighter, lean and ripped. He rests his forehead against mine, our lips hovering inches apart as we pant against each other’s mouth.
Is he going to push me away? Tell me this is a mistake? A physical relationship would complicate everything, except right now, I can’t find it in me to care.
Something snaps inside of me, releasing a tidal wave of emotion. Instead of barricading it back, I crave to feel every bit of it, especially through his touch.
His fist tightens around my hair. “Fuck.” His one word says it all. If only a kiss can feel this good, we’re screwed. His eyes flutter closed for one long second, and I think he might end this. Instead, he says, “Turn around, baby. I’m going to show you how much I need you.”
I can’t turn around fast enough. My back is now to his front, facing the graffiti-covered brick wall of the building.
