Page 128 of Blood & Snow
I feel her tighten on me, then seize around me, the second climax tearing through her while I hold her caged and shaking.
That breaks my control.
I crush her to my chest anddrive deep, once, twice, and then the heat rips out of me.
It starts low in my spine, a violent rush that builds until my whole body bows against hers.
Every thrust forces more into her, thick pulses that I can feel spilling out around me, searing me until it feels as though we're fused together.
My vision whites out, my muscles locked as if I’m breaking apart while she squeezes me tighter, milking every drop.
I groan against her throat, my chest heaving as the flood keeps coming until I’m drained.
Even then I hold her down on me, buried to the hilt, shuddering with the aftershocks as my release slows to spasms.
Heat floods out of me and into her, a claim I can’t take back and won’t.
I keep her there, seated on me, while my breath saws against her skin and the world narrows to the thud of our hearts and the low growl of the engine.
When the car slows to a stop, she climbs off me.
I see the slickness of our sex drain down her thigh as she repositions her panties and reaches for her jeans.
But the look on her face isn't just pleasure.
She's still torn, still not convinced.
"Nadya," I say, a strange sound on my tongue.
She's my little bird, myPtichka, and saying her name sounds foreign.
"Xander, please."
She shoves her feet into the jeans, lurches awkwardly against the seat as she wrestles them upward.
"Don't…" she pants, and I pick up her flats and hand them to her.
"I have a few more jobs…" I mutter, hoping she understands how this works.
I can't be the bad guy with her.
I just can't.
And Leonid will have no mercy.
He'll send Igor or Ivan and that will be that.
The next thing I know, I'll have them cleaning her blood up.
Nadya finishes pulling on her shoes with jerky, uncertain movements.
The scent of our coupling fills the confined space and I breathe her in, desperate to keep her here.
I watch her profile in the dim light, memorizing the curve of her cheek and the way her dark hair falls across her shoulder.
She won't look at me or meet my eyes as she straightens her coat.
"Ptichka."
