Page 138 of Twisted Pact
“Good.” He pushes deeper. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”
He sinks all the way in and bottoms out, and we both groan at the sensation. He stays still for a moment to let me adjust and let us both feel the connection.
And then, he pulls back almost all the way out before driving forward again, setting a rhythm that’s tender and consuming. Each thrust goes deep, and his hips roll in a way that hits every sensitive spot inside me.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer. Our bodies move together like we’ve been doing this for years instead of weeks. Like we were made for this. For each other.
“Look at me,” he tells me again.
I open my eyes and find him watching me with something between wonder and fear and need.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits.
“Do what?”
“Feel this much. Want this much. Need this much.”
My chest constricts. “We’ll figure it out together.”
He kisses me hard, pouring everything he can’t say into the connection between us. He snaps his hips faster and harder. The headboard thuds against the wall, but neither of us cares if his brother and Katya hear.
A second orgasm builds at the base of my spine and spreads through me. I shatter around him with a cry. He follows seconds later, buries himself deep, and groans my name as he comes. His body shudders with release.
We collapse in a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin. Our breathing slowly returns to normal. He stays inside me for a while before finally pulling out.
He rolls to the side and pulls me against his chest. I rest my head over his heart and listen to the steady rhythm to what has become my favorite sound in the world.
He kisses the top of my head and breaks the quiet. “I meant what I said earlier.”
“About what?”
“Not knowing how to do this. How to feel what I feel for you.”
I tilt my head up to look at him. “What do you feel?”
He stays quiet for so long, I think he won’t answer. Then he speaks. “More than I should. More than is safe. More than I thought possible.” He strokes my hair back from my face. “I’m not good with words. I never have been, but what I feel for you scares the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
“Because caring about someone makes you vulnerable. Gives enemies a target.”
I reach up and touch his face. Trace the line of his jaw. “I feel it, too, and it scares me, too. I don’t know how to want someone this much and survive losing them.”
He captures my hand and presses a kiss to my palm. “You’re not going to lose me.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can try.” His voice roughens. “Iwilltry. Every single day.”
I sink back against his chest and close my eyes, letting his warmth surround and protect me as his heartbeat thuds steadily beneath my ear.
For the first time in months, I feel genuinely safe. Like maybe we can survive this and build something real from all this chaos and violence and fear.
Sleep pulls me under. My limbs grow heavy, and my breathing slows. His fingers continue their gentle path across my skin.
Then, gunfire cracks through the night.
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