Page 82 of Hostage of the Russian
He looked up at her, his eyes shining. “No. Thank you—for staying. For fighting.”
He kissed her hip, then continued downward, fingers tracing the curve of her body, leaving behind a trail of warmth and reverence. Across her hips. Over her thighs. Down to the inside of her knees, and back up with maddening care.
When he settled between her legs, his hands parted her with a tenderness that made her breath catch. And then his mouth was on her, hot, wet, and devastating.
She cried out, her hips arching, but he held her down, licking and sucking with exquisite care. His tongue circled her clit, slow and deliberate, driving her out of her mind. He groaned against her when she moaned his name, the vibration makingher tremble harder. When he slid a finger inside, she nearly came undone.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking as he added a second finger, curling just right.
He didn’t stop until she shattered, her thighs trembling, back arching off the bed as a cry tore from her lips. He licked her through it, drinking her in like he couldn’t get enough.
Only then did he rise over her, positioning himself at her entrance. He kissed her, slow and deep, as he pushed inside her inch by inch, filling her completely.
She gasped into his mouth, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he began to move, slow and deep, each thrust a gentle claim. His body pressed against hers, skin to skin, their hearts pounding in time.
There was no urgency. No wild frenzy. Just the sweet, aching stretch of connection as he made love to her like he was trying to memorize every part of her.
Their eyes locked and held, and in that gaze was everything: the past they’d survived, the present they cherished, and the future they were building.
“I love you,” she whispered, cupping his face in her hands as the pleasure built between them. “I love you so much.”
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “Forever, Azriel. Forever.”
His thrusts grew a little faster, deeper, as the heat between them surged. Her body moved with his naturally, meeting each stroke with a roll of her hips. The pressure built slowly, a tide swelling between them, until she was gasping with every movement, her nails digging into his back.
He reached down and circled her clit with his fingers, and she broke again, clinging to him as pleasure washed over her. He groaned her name, hips thrusting once, twice more before he found his own release, spilling into her with a low, shuddering cry.
But he didn’t pull away.
He stayed inside her, their foreheads pressed together as they tried to catch their breath. One of his hands slid along her hip, the other brushing her hair back tenderly.
“You okay?” he whispered, searching her eyes.
She nodded, a shaky smile curling her lips. “Better than okay.”
Still joined, they stayed like that for long minutes, basking in the warmth of what they’d just shared. Then slowly, almost shyly, she shifted beneath him, her body still trembling but wanting more, not out of hunger or desperation, but because it felt like coming home.
He watched her carefully as she rolled him onto his back and straddled him, her thighs trembling but determined. His hands went to her waist as she sank down onto him again, both of them gasping at the renewed connection.
“Greedy?” he asked with a breathless chuckle.
“Maybe,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss him. “I just love the way you feel.”
Her movements were slow, deliberate, each roll of her hips a tender affirmation of love. He let her set the pace, hands gripping her thighs, his eyes never leaving hers. The moment turned languid, almost dreamlike, the pleasure sweet and drawn out.
She bent forward, pressing kisses to his lips, his neck, his chest. “You make me feel real,” she whispered against his skin.
“You are,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. “You’re everything.”
They moved together in perfect rhythm, building slowly, riding wave after wave of sensation until they were trembling again, the world reduced to just them.
When they came together this time, it was quieter, deeper—a shared surrender that felt like forever.
He collapsed against her, their bodies still joined, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She held him as they both trembled, sweat-slicked and breathless, wrapped in the warmth of what they’d just shared.
But neither of them moved.
His hands roamed slowly down her spine, then up again, as though memorizing her anew. She pressed a soft kiss to his temple, her breath still shaky. When she shifted, intending to pull away, he tightened his grip.
