Page 66 of Dancing With Distraction

I stare up at this god of a man, his eyes locking with mine. They soften as he leans down and kisses me delicately, his tongue in a slow dance with mine. Even though he’s brought me to heaven multiple times over the last few hours, that ache between my legs returns.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against mine, and our breathing is the only sound in the room. “I love you,” he whispers.

My heart swells at his admission, and I tentatively kiss him before replying in his mother tongue, “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.” I love you too.

He grins, his kiss coming with force, and I sense his relief at my own declaration.

He pushes his throbbing cock at my entrance and enters me slowly. I moan against his mouth, closing my eyes in pleasure.

“Open your eyes, my krasota,” he whispers, and I do as I’m told, enjoying that he’s back in control. There’s a look of vulnerability in his expression that I haven’t seen it before, and it feels overwhelming as my orgasm slowly builds in the pit of my stomach.

Dmitry increases his pace, refusing to break eye contact as he chases his own release. We come apart together as an earth-shattering orgasm rips through me and he groans in pleasure, shuddering above me.

He drops down beside me, rolling onto his back, then he reaches for me and pulls me into his side. I’m exhausted as I lay my head on his chest and he runs his hand up and down my back, his touch so soft that I can feel myself drifting off to sleep. His voice breaks through my comatose state. “Marry me, Victoria.” I freeze, unsure if I’ve heard him right, and he leans down and kisses me on my head. My heart leaps out my chest, and I’m suddenly very awake. I glance up at him, and he takes my chin between his thumb and finger, “Victoria, I’m serious. Marry me?”

I see the concern in his eyes when I don’t answer him right away, but it takes me a minute to process before I smile. “Mr. Volkov, of course, I’ll marry you.”

He releases a long, relieved breath and kisses me on my lips.

I lie back down and settle against his chest, listening to his breathing become slower as he drifts off to sleep.

I smile, closing my eyes. I’d never been content with my life, like I’d always been searching for something more. I didn’t realise it would be Dmitry, until I forced my way into my life. Now, I finally feel like I’m home.

My phone dances across the bedside table, the vibration waking me from my slumber. Dmitry stirs, pulling me closer to him. “Leave it,” he murmurs against my neck.

I swat his arm and reach for my phone. Opening one eye, I frown. Why would she be ringing me at this hour? I sit up in bed and accept the call.

“Phoebe?” I answer. “What’s wrong?”

She wails down the phone, confusing my half-asleep brain. I sit up, trying to make sense of her. “Phoebe, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

Dmitry sits up beside me, sensing my panic. “Put it on loudspeaker,” he whispers, and I do as he suggests.

“It’s . . . I . . .” She sobs harder.

“Take a breath, Phoebe. What’s going on?” I ask.

“It’s Marcus.” I frown at Dmitry. “I got a letter through the door. It says he’s dead.”

The End.

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