Page 25 of Tracking Shadows

“Alexei,” she breathes, her eyes opening, the spark in them lighting a fire in my blood. “Don’t hold back. Please.”

I don’t need any more encouragement.

I pull back, then thrust forward, claiming her fully, seating myself deep within her. She gasps, her nails digging into my skin, her body tensing around me. And then I start to move, my hips stuttering at first, then falling into a steady rhythm as I find my pace.

I lose myself in the feel of her, the slide of her body against mine, the tight grip of her silken heat. Her hips move to meet mine, her breath coming in quick, needy pants, her body encouraging me to go harder, faster.

I comply, my control shattering at the sounds of pleasure falling from her lips, at the way her body responds to mine, moving in perfect harmony. We fall into a frantic rhythm, our bodies slamming together, the couch creaking beneath us, theonly sounds in the room our harsh breaths and the wet, intimate sounds of our joining.

“More,” she breathes against my lips. “Please, Alexei. I want—”

I don’t need to hear more. With a low growl, I pull out almost entirely before thrusting back into her, going deeper than before. She gasps, her hands tightening on my back, her nails digging into my skin.

I can feel her excitement, the way her body tenses beneath mine, the way her breath comes in short, sharp pants. I want to give her release, to take her to the edge and push her over, to feel her fall apart under me.

I shift my angle, my hips hitting hers in a way that makes her gasp, her nails digging into my back. “There?” I ask, my voice rough, my eyes never leaving hers. “Is that what you need?”

She bites her lip, her eyes searching mine, before she nods. “Yes,” she whispers, “There. Right there, Alexei. Don’t stop.”

I don’t plan to.

She meets me thrust for thrust, her hips arching up to meet mine, her nails digging into my back, urging me on.

“Alexei,” she pants, her eyes fluttering closed, her body arching off the couch. “I’m close, so close. Don’t stop, please, don’t—”

That’s all I need to hear. I lean in, my lips brushing hers, my hips slamming into hers as I take her over the edge. She criesout, her body tightening around mine, her release washing over her. I feel her walls clutching me, milking me, and it’s all I can do to hold on, to keep thrusting as she falls apart beneath me.

“Come for me,” I grit out, my own climax building as I feel her body clench around me. “Let go, baby.”

Her cry of release tears from her throat, her body convulsing around me as she finds her release, her inner walls fluttering as her orgasm washes over her. The sensation is too much, and with a few more sharp thrusts, I find my own, my body tensing as I spill myself into her, my hips stuttering as I ride out the waves of pleasure.

We lay there, breathless and spent, our bodies still joined, our hearts pounding in time. I nuzzle her neck, placing soft kisses along her jaw, savoring the feel of her beneath me, around me, the way she feels like she was made for me.

****

Waking up alone wasn’t exactly the dream scenario I had in mind, but then again, nothing about Irina had ever been predictable. The early morning light is soft, almost too delicate for the weight of what had happened between us last night. I blink against it, still half-immersed in the warmth of the memory—her body pressed against mine, the way she’d sighed my name as if it were a secret she’d been dying to share. But when I reach out to where she’d been, all I find are cold sheets and the faintest trace of her scent.

Of course, she’s already up, probably buried in some plan to take down Sergei as if nothing had happened between us.

I rub a hand over my face, trying to shake off the frustration curling in my chest. I should’ve expected this—Irina isn’t the type to dwell on emotions, especially not when there’s a mission at hand. Still, I can’t help the twinge of disappointment that she hadn’t stayed, even for a moment longer.

Sliding out of my bed, which we managed to crawl into before I was inside her again, I pull on my clothes and make my way out of the room. I find her at the table, hunched over a map with that same intense focus that had first caught my eye. The scene is so quintessentially Irina: cool, composed, and entirely in control. It’s almost as if last night hadn’t happened at all.

"You're up early," I say, trying to keep my tone light, but the tension is there, just beneath the surface.

She glances up at me briefly, her expression giving nothing away. "We have work to do."

I bite back the urge to say something more, to ask her how she feels about what happened between us. But I know better than to push. Irina is a fortress, and if she isn’t ready to let me in, no amount of questioning will change that.

Instead, I nod and move to the table, scanning the map she’s studying. "What's the plan?"

"We're going to need to adjust our approach," Irina says, as if last night was just another fleeting moment in our twisted mission. She taps the map with her finger. "I got a text this morning. It's going to be a masked ball tonight. That makes it easier for us to blend in."

"A masked ball?" I lean closer to the table, trying to focus on the mission instead of the memory of her body against mine. "That works in our favor. We can move around without drawing too much attention."

She nods, eyes still on the map. "Exactly. We can get closer to Sergei without him knowing it's us. I'll forge the invitation cards; that part's easy."

"Good," I say, watching her, trying to read the thoughts she keeps so carefully hidden. "I’ve got an untraceable credit card. Dmitri gave it to me for situations just like this. I’ll handle getting the clothes and masks."

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