Page 72 of Ivory Oath

“And I can’t fuck you again until you understand what this means to me. What you mean to me.”

Is it possible to orgasm from words? From soft touches?

“I know what this means. I do.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t. Because we were in the hospital and you thought I might send you away. You didn’t tell me you were pregnant because you couldn’t trust me.”

“I’m sorry. I should have?—”

He silences me with a kiss that has me stretching onto my toes for more. I circle my arms around his neck and I think we’ve said enough. When he kisses me like this, what else is there to say?

His lips press against the corner of my mouth, my cheek. “I should have told you right then what I knew the first moment I saw you. I should have told you last week, last month, and every single day of the six years we lost.”

My chest shudders and I have to grip his shoulders to steady myself. “Told me what?”

“That I want you, Viviana. All of you, in every way I can have you. In my bed, in my head, in my cold, busted-up heart.” He cups my face with hands that are strong enough to tear apart the world, but right now are the only thing holding mine together. “I almost lost you. Today, we almost lost Dante. And I—fuck, I can’t spend another second worrying that you don’t know exactly how much you’ve fucking destroyed me.”

He’s breathing hard like we’ve already had sex. Like tearing that confession out of his chest took everything he had.

I don’t have the right words to respond to him. I’m so desperate for him I can barely stand. So I press my hand over his thundering heart and stretch onto my toes, dragging every inch of our bodies together. “Mikhail Novikov, I love you.”

All at once, the tension in him eases. His arms soften around me and his lips find mine. The kiss is soft for a handful of seconds before he tips my head back and parts my jaw. Before his tongue is swirling over mine, licking over the roof of my mouth like flames.

I moan and he trails more fire down my neck and my chest. He drops lower, taking the rest of the dress with him until I’m shivering in front of him in nothing but a pair of white satin panties. He licks the soft material, sending sparks up my spine. Then he shoves them aside and presses his warm mouth to me.

“Mikhail!” I fist my hands in his hair and struggle to stand. He bands a strong arm behind my thighs, holding me against him while his tongue dips into me again and again.

I gasp for breath like I’m coming up from underwater, but the pressure in my chest ratchets up with every press of his mouth.

Then he slides two fingers into me, and I’m gone.

The moment they curl inside of me, stroking nerve endings that are already sizzling, I bow back and scream.

Mikhail’s free hand shoots up my spine to keep me from falling backward. His fingers spread wide across my back, holding me steady while he absolutely undoes me.

As the pleasure ebbs away, he flicks his tongue over my clit. I’m oversensitive and I pull on his hair, bringing him up to my mouth.

He’s smiling like he knows exactly what he’s doing. His mouth is shiny with me and I drag my tongue over his lower lip. He growls, chasing my lips, kissing me back onto the bed. It’s heat and desire and need, but when he sits back on his calves and looks down at me, the moment turns soft.

“I’m almost naked and you’re still in your clothes,” I complain.

He grabs the bottom of his sweater and pulls it over his head in one quick movement.

No human has ever been this beautiful. It’s impossible. How am I expected to do anything else when he looks like that?

I lunge forward and unbutton his pants. I shove them down his muscular thighs as he kicks them away, laughing and falling against me.

The laughter quiets as we find each other, touching and stroking until we’re breathless—and he still hasn’t even been inside of me yet.

“I’ve had sex, but I’ve never had this. I’ve never had…” He swallows hard. His thumb presses into my hip bone, shaping me until I’m open for him. “It’s never been like this with anyone.”

Something like guilt flashes in his eyes.

If we lived in an ideal world, Mikhail and I would have found each other years ago. There wouldn’t be anyone else before; no one after. He never would have been married. I wouldn’t have watched my first fiancé be killed in front of me.

We are both painfully aware we don’t live in that world. This one is complicated and messy. It’s been brutal and dark and bloody and awful more often than not.

But it’s none of those things right now.

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