Page 82 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

“Home,” I echo, offering her a hand to help her out.

We walk up the steps together, and I glance at the guards stationed nearby, giving a brief nod to ensure everything is secure. It’s a reflex now, but as I glance at the tiny bundle in Hannah’s arms, it feels more important than ever.

Once inside, the quiet hum of the house greets us, and Vera appears from the hallway, her face lighting up when she sees Hannah and the baby.

“Welcome back,” she says warmly, her eyes softening as she looks at Anatoly.

“Thank you, Vera,” Hannah says, her voice warm but tired.

I take Hannah’s free hand, guiding her through the halls and up the stairs toward the nursery. The walk is slow, unhurried, and there’s something grounding about the way she leans on me, trusting me to lead the way.

When we step into the nursery, the soft cream walls and gentle glow of the nightlight feel like stepping into another world. Hannah moves to the crib, carefully laying Anatoly down. He stirs faintly but doesn’t wake, his tiny hands curling against his chest as he settles into the plush mattress.

We stand there for a moment, side by side, just watching him.

“He’s perfect,” Hannah whispers, her voice full of awe.

I place a hand on the small of her back, my touch light but steady. “He is,” I agree.

She turns to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Without thinking, I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It’s tender at first, a quiet acknowledgment of everything we’ve been through, but when her hand reaches up to cup my cheek, it deepens.

The warmth of her mouth against mine, the way she melts into me—it’s enough to pull me under. Between us, Anatoly sleeps peacefully, a tiny buffer that keeps us grounded in the moment.

She pulls back with a soft laugh, brushing her thumb over my cheek. “We should let him rest.”

“Agreed,” I murmur, though I steal one last kiss before stepping back.

The nursery connects to our bedroom through an arched doorway, and as we step into the dimly lit space, the fatigue of the past few days starts to settle over both of us. Hannah movesto the bed, sinking onto the edge with a sigh as I loosen the collar of my shirt.

“You should rest,” I say, crossing the room to her.

She smiles up at me, a playful glint in her eyes. “You’ve been just as busy.”

“I don’t get tired,” I reply, smirking.

“Liar,” she teases, reaching for my hand.

I let her pull me closer, her fingers tracing the buttons of my shirt. “You’ve been taking care of everything,” she says softly. “You deserve a break too.”

I lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s anything but soft. It’s hungry, insistent, a release of everything I’ve been holding back. She responds immediately, her hands slipping beneath the fabric of my shirt, her touch warm against my skin.

“You’re pushing your luck,” I murmur against her lips, smirking when she laughs breathlessly.

“Maybe I am,” she replies, her voice low and teasing.

I push her back gently onto the bed, hovering over her as I let my hands explore the curves of her body. She arches beneath me, her laughter fading into a soft sigh that sends heat coursing through me.

As much as I want to lose myself in her, I’m acutely aware of the exhaustion in her movements, the way her body still hasn’t fully recovered. I pull back slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“You’re tired,” I say, my voice softer now.

Her lips curve into a faint smile. “A little,” she admits.

“We’ll pick this up later,” I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Her laughter returns, light and warm. “You always know how to ruin the moment.”

I chuckle, settling beside her on the bed and pulling her into my arms. “Get some rest,” I murmur, my hand trailing lightly over her back.

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