Page 41 of Hostage of the Russian
Her breath caught. “Kostya...”
“I know what I did to you was wrong. I know I can’t undo it. But I’m asking you to let tonight just be tonight. Let me celebrate your graduation properly. Let me show you who I am when I’m not trying to be the monster everyone expects me to be.”
The sincerity in his voice undid something in her chest. This felt like the apology he’d never explicitly given, wrapped in vulnerability she hadn’t known he was capable of.
“Just tonight?” she asked.
“If that’s all you’re willing to give me.”
Azriel looked at him across the flickering candlelight, this complicated man who had turned her world upside down, and made a decision that terrified her.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Just tonight.”
The drive home was electric with tension. Kostya had moved his hand to rest on the gear shift, close enough that his knuckles brushed her thigh every time he changed gears. Each casual contact sent sparks through her nervous system, andfrom the way his jaw tightened, she suspected he was as affected as she was.
They talked softly in the darkness, about books they’d read, places they wanted to travel, stupid things that made them laugh. Normal conversation between two people getting to know each other, as if the circumstances of their meeting hadn’t been completely insane.
“I’ve never been to Italy,” Azriel admitted as they pulled into the long driveway of his house.
“I have a place in Tuscany,” Kostya said, parking the car but making no move to get out. “Maybe someday...”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hung between them. Someday, if this thing between them developed into something real. Someday, if she stopped seeing him as her captor and started seeing him as her husband.
The silence stretched as they sat in the darkened car, the weight of the evening settling around them.
“Thank you,” Azriel said finally. “For tonight. For the flowers. For... being there today.”
“Thank you for letting me.”
She turned to look at him and found that he was already watching her. In the dim light from the dashboard, his features were all shadows and angles, but his eyes were soft and gentle.
“I should go in,” she said, but made no move to leave.
“You should.”
Neither of them moved.
“Azriel.” Her name was a whisper in the darkness.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Kostya...”
“Tell me no, and I won’t.”
She should tell him no. Should maintain the distance she’d worked so hard to build. Should remember all the reasons this was complicated and dangerous and wrong.
Instead, she whispered, “Don’t make me regret this.”
His hand came up to cup her face, thumb tracing along her cheekbone. “Never,” he promised, and then his lips were on hers.
The kiss started gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was giving her room to change her mind. But when she melted into him, when her hands fisted in his shirt and dragged him closer, he deepened it with a groan that vibrated through her entire body.
He tasted like wine and promises, like danger wrapped in safety. When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she parted for him instantly, and the sound he made in response, low, wrecked, sent a rush of molten heat straight between her thighs.
“Inside,” he murmured against her mouth, voice already rough with restraint. “Let me take you inside.”
