Page 121 of Twilight Sins

“Our date redo was really fun.”

“Date redo,” he repeats. His fingers twirl around a strand of my hair. The tension makes me dizzy.

“You know, a date where I don’t think you’re someone else for the first half.”

“It was just my name,” he murmurs. “I was still being myself.”

He says it like it’s simple. Like I haven’t the faintest idea who the real Yakov Kulikov is. Like it’s even possible to know who the real Yakov Kulikov is.

“Fine. Then it was nice to go on a date where no mysterious threat forced you to take me home at the end of the night,” I continue.

Yakov’s hand slides down my hair and wraps around my waist. One quick tug and I’m flush against him, looking up into the shadowed planes of his face.

“No one forced me to do anything,” he snarls. “I could have let you walk out of the restaurant that night and face your fate. I didn’t. I chose to save you—because I wanted to.”

I want to just nod and move on. Keep things light and airy and fun. But I can’t let this go.

“I’m grateful for that,” I say. “I’m just also grateful that, tonight, I’m not standing here because you had to make an on-the-fly decision to save my life.”

Yakov growls. “You’re going to make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“Admit that I could have sent you to a safehouse that night.” His eyes flash. “I could have sent you to any of a dozen different apartments I have in the city. A Swiss villa. A hotel room with guards stationed outside would have done the trick. I could have kept you safe and far, far away from me. But I choose to bring you to my mansion. To keep you close.” His hand curves around my neck. “I don’t want a date redo, Luna. I don’t need one. This thing between us happened the way it was always supposed to.”

I’m afraid to breathe, to blink. I’m afraid that the slightest movement will shatter this moment into a million tiny pieces.

“Do you hear me?” he asks.

I manage a slow, even nod.

Then Yakov turns away and unlocks the front door.

He leads me inside and doesn’t break pace even as we pass the kitchen and he asks, “Do you want a drink?”

I shake my head. There’s only one thing I want.

Both of us know where this is going. I can tell by the tight hold he has on my hand that he’s as eager to get there as I am.

The bedroom door closes and Yakov has me pressed against it before my eyes can adjust to the darkness. He has one hand against my lower back, the other flat against the door frame. I’m caged in by him and it still isn’t enough.

“I had a nice time tonight,” I whisper.

Yakov gives me a slow, liquid smile. “Solnyshka… we’re just getting started.”

Like everything else tonight, the kiss is easy. It’s slow and tender. Yakov parts my lips with his tongue and sucks on my lower lip.

He tugs on the zipper along my spine until my dress peels free. For once, I’m not even self-conscious. I’m glad to get rid of another layer between us. As soon as my arms are out, I slide my hands under the lapels of his jacket and push it off of him. His shirt comes next. Before it’s even over his head, I lean forward and press a kiss to his chest.

“You smell like rain,” I breathe between kisses. “And wood. And spices.”

He chuckles, but the sound cuts off when I unzip his pants and drop to my knees. He’s already hard when I wrap my hand around his base and take him into my mouth.

“Fuck.” The door thuds against the frame as he braces himself against it.

I circle my tongue around him. Then I swallow him down. I take him until my nose presses to the base of his stomach.

His hand fists in my hair. “You and this mouth of yours, solnyshka.”

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