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I look back at Sophia. The sight of her sleeping so peacefully makes the walls I’ve carefully built around my heart shake. I should just leave her on the sofa and get out of here. That’s the logical thing to do. But there’s a drive within that’s far more potent than common sense. It’s the desire to have her near me, in my space.
This isn’t good.
Ignoring the alarms in my head, I bend down to lift her. Her body curves naturally into my arms, a perfect fit. It’s as if she belongs there.
Just get her to her room, Luka.
The mantra repeats in my head, trying to drown out the dangerous thoughts threatening to take over.
I’m halfway down the corridor when she stirs, her eyes fluttering open to reveal the hazy depths of confusion.
“Luka?” she mumbles, struggling to come to terms with her surroundings. Before I can answer, a sleepy smile spreads across her face. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
“For what?” I question, genuinely surprised.
“For…everything,” she replies. And before I can process her words, she lifts her head and places a gentle kiss on my cheek.
I’m screwed.
Still, I manage to respond, “You’re welcome…krasotka,” my voice sounding gruffer than intended. My breathing grows uneven. I can feel my cock jerk, aroused by her touch. The fabric of her shirt is thin, barely providing a barrier between us. The coolness of the room hardens her nipples against the material, their impression tantalizing as they graze against my own shirt.
Without another word, Sophia’s hands slide around my neck.
How is it that I can’t get enough of this woman?
I make my way down the hall to my room. Each step carries weight, as though my brain recognizes the line I’m crossing.
I gently kick the door to my room open, stepping inside, and the lock clicks into place.
The bed is invitingly soft in the dim room. I set her in the center of it, and she sinks into the mattress. Dark hair on white sheets – a striking image that sears itself into my mind.
It’s too late to back out now. She’s here, in my room, in my bed. This isn’t just crossing a line; it’s vaulting over it.
I see a question in her eyes, but no fear. That alone makes me feel a twinge of something I refuse to name. It’s dangerous territory.
I reach out, brushing a loose curl from her face. The simple touch sends a jolt down my spine. Things are spiraling out of control, but it’s too late to try to stop it. Much too late.
Her hand snakes out, catching hold of my shirt and yanking me toward her. Then she’s kissing me. There’s no mistaking the message.
She wants me too.
There’s no turning back now.
Her lips attack mine with a desperation that screams of need. It’s a kiss that wants to hold me down, pull me into her, making sure I don’t leave her alone in this vast bed. It’s a plea for comfort and a promise of hope all at once. And it’s intoxicating, more heady than the most potent drink, more engulfing than the rage I’ve been nursing for the past year.
So, I give in. I kiss her back. Not just with depth, but with a raw hunger.
I let my tongue slide into her mouth, claiming territory. All the suppressed lust I’ve harbored for her since our paths crossed now unleashed.
Swiftly, I get rid of my pants together with the white panties she’s wearing beneath her skirt, nestling myself between her legs. My cock teases her entrance, finding her wet and ready. Laid bare for me. She’s so damn beautiful it’s almost painful.
Her fingers are in my hair, firm yet frantic as she clings to me. “Let me see you,” she breathes out, her other hand urgently yanking open my shirt buttons.
She tugs me back to her lips, her tongue stealing inside my mouth as if it’s her turn to claim me now. It’s a silent demand, echoed in the fervor of our messy kiss.
Carefully, I push into her, a primal claim wrapped in the guise of caution. She whimpers, her hips eagerly tilting to meet mine, each motion of her body a silent plea for more. My lips are on her neck, taking in the scent of her hair; I could get drunk on her.
“Yes, Luka…” Her fingers tighten in my hair, her body seeking more contact until there is nothing left but the rhythm of our bodies and the sound of ragged breathing. It begins as a slow burn, then the spark ignites, and our movements grow wild, fierce.
