“You’re still an asshole,” she growls as she bites down into my neck. Squeezing her ass, I pump up into her, creating delicious friction.
“I know,” I say, digging my fingernails into the taut flesh, leaving marks behind. “I just want to keep you safe. I just want to protect you. You hired me to be your bodyguard,” I remind her.
“Then stop pushing me away,” she mutters, raking her nails down my back. “Listen to me, let me help you.”
I know she’s right about that, but I can’t bring myself to admit it. Sometimes I go overboard in trying to protect her, but it’s only because of how damn deeply I care about her.
Silence falls between us as we continue making love with wild abandon, my cock pistoning in and out of her so fast I feel like I’m running a marathon.
The two of us fall apart together—her name ripped from my throat as she cries out mine, our bodies locking tight like we’re trying to fuse into something whole, something more. The world narrows to nothing but the heat, the pressure, the devastating relief of giving in.
The two of us collapse, utterly spent. We stay there on the kitchen floor, tangled together in the afterglow, our breaths still ragged and our bodies slick with sweat. The fight is gone—for now—but something heavy still hangs in the air, unspoken and waiting.
Her head rests against my chest, fingers tracing lazy circles over my ribs. I close my eyes, just for a second, letting myself feel the quiet. The way she fits against me. The way, for one fleeting moment, everything felt right.
Her head rests against my chest, fingers tracing lazy circles over my ribs. I close my eyes, just for a second, letting myself feel the quiet. The way she fits against me. The way, for one fleeting moment, everything felt right.
But even now, even like this, my mind won’t shut up.
I know I’ve been too much lately—hovering, controlling, always three steps ahead of a danger she keeps insisting isn’t coming. I hate that part of me, the part that grips too tightly out of fear. But Christ, I’ve already almost lost her once. And now, with everything spiraling, I can't stop bracing for the next blow. For the day she disappears again.
She thinks I don’t trust her. But it’s not that—I don’t trust the people around her. Her family. Her world. The Russians.
I want to believe she sees it for what it is, but I know better. She’s too close. Too entwined with them. No matter what they’ve done, part of her still wants to believe they’re redeemable.
She can’t see it like I do. Not yet.
And maybe I am smothering her. Maybe I’m making it harder. But I’d rather be overbearing than bury her because I didn’t act fast enough.
Then her phone buzzes.
The sound slices through the calm like a blade. I tense instantly, propping myself up on one elbow as she shifts to reach for it.
“Anything?” I ask, watching her closely.
She goes still, staring at the screen. The glow lights up her face, but not the way I expect. Her brows pinch. Her lips part—just slightly.
“Ana?”
She blinks, then presses the screen off and sets the phone face-down on the floor.
“It’s nothing,” she says, giving me a tight-lipped smile. “Just spam.”
29
ANNIKA
The moment the door clicks shut behind him, the apartment feels too quiet. I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders and stare at the screen of my phone like it might change. It doesn’t.
Sasha: We need to meet. Come to the old shipyard in two hours. Alone. Please.
I don’t even have to open the thread. The words are burned into my brain. She didn’t say why. She didn’t offer a time or place yet. Just that.
Justplease.
My stomach knots. I lied to Liam.
“It’s nothing,” I’d said. “Just spam.”