Page 86 of Poisoned Vows

For a moment, I can’t breathe. I can’t think of what to say. “What did she need?” I ask softly, my heart beating in my throat, and Nikolai looks at me sadly.

“Patience. Kindness. Understanding. I gave her none of that. And now—” He swallows hard, his bleeding hand curling into a fist. “Now it’s too late.”

Slowly, I step forward, watching for the glass. I bend down when I’m close to him, opening up the cupboard beneath the sink to find the first-aid kit I know is there. And without a word, I take it out and set it on the counter, opening it up to find alcohol pads, gauze, and medical tape.

“Lilliana, what are you—”

I ignore him for a moment, ripping open one of the alcohol pads. “You called me tenacious and yourself stubborn.” I press the pad against his knuckles, hearing the quick hiss of his breath. “But those words both mean the same thing, Nikolai. It’s just one sounds better than the other.” I make another pass with the alcohol pad, before setting it aside and reaching for ointment to rub over the wounds. “We’re both stubborn. We both butt heads, and often. And yet—”

“What?” He swallows hard, looking down at me as I start to wrap his hand with gauze. “What else is there, Lilliana? You told me over and over that I was hurting you. That Ihadhurt you. And I didn’t listen. I couldn’t seem to hear you. I wanted to earn your forgiveness, but I don’t think—”

“That’s not for you to decide.” I secure the gauze, but I don’t let go of his hand. “I wasn’t going to stay, Nikolai. But then—so much has happened, since you walked out on that balcony and told me that you would let me go. I’ve learned more about you. I’ve seen—certain things—in a different light. And I see that you are trying.”

I breathe in slowly, measuring my words as I look up at him. “Isn’t that what marriage is supposed to be? Continuing to try, even when you fail?”

“A normal marriage, maybe.” Nikolai’s jaw is still tense as he looks at me. “A marriage where two people love each other.”

I can feel the stutter of my heart in my chest. “Do you love me, Nikolai?” I ask softly, and he lets out a breath that I hadn’t realized he was holding, his gaze fixed on mine.

“I do,” he murmurs. “I’m not sure when, Lilliana. I can’t say for sure. But I do love you.”

“And I—” I look at him, and I can’t say for sure when, either. I can’t say if it was when he cooked me dinner that night in the cabin, and I saw a different man than the one that I’d thought I married, or if it was the snowball fight in the woods, or when I woke up thinking I’d frozen to death in the snow only to find him at my side.

It might have been less than an hour ago, when I watched him take vengeance on the man who controlled my whole life—who never stopped controlling it, really, until Nikolai opened his throat with a knife.

It might have been when he set me free.

“I think I love you, too,” I whisper. “I do. I do love you. I don’t know how, but—”

Nikolai steps forward. I feel the brush of gauze against my cheek as he touches my face, lifting it up to his, and his mouth comes down on mine.

It’s slow and gentle, and it’s what I want. His lips brush over my mouth, again and again, as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of my mouth against his, the shape of my lips, their fullness, their taste. As if he’s a blind man learning me with touch. He stands there for a long time, simply kissing me, until his tongue flicks out to taste my lower lip, and I gasp, a shudder of desire running through me.

“I need you, Lilliana,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I’ll be careful of us both. But I need—”

“I know,” I whisper. “I do too.”

He walks me backward towards the bed, his hands already bunching in the loose dress despite his injuries, pulling it up over my head. I don’t feel fear, this time, that he doesn’t like what he sees. I can tell from the look on his face, the way his hands roam over me, gentle but urgent, that there’s nothing about me that he doesn’t want. That he wantsallof it, all of me.

“I need to taste you,” he whispers, his fingers tracing patterns over my skin as he kisses me over and over, his body tense with the restraint that it takes to do so gently. His mouth drags down my throat, over my collarbone, lower still, his mouth pressing kisses to every inch of bruised skin, until his hands are gently pushing apart my thighs, opening me up for him.

“Nikolai, you’re hurt too—” I whisper, and he shakes his head.

“I’ve been in pain for much worse reasons than this,” he murmurs, and then he lowers his still-faintly swollen mouth between my thighs.

His tongue feels like heaven. He was right all along—the pleasure is magnified a hundred-fold when I give myself up to it. He slides his tongue over my outer folds, teasing me for a brief moment before he delves between them, too hungry to draw it out for long—and I don’t want him to. My entire body feels like it’s throbbing, aching with the need for release. I cry out as his tongue flutters over my clit, his lips wrapping around the swollen flesh as he sucks it into his mouth, driving me toward the edge quickly.

“Nikolai—” I pant his name, no longer caring what sounds I make, what I say. It doesn’t matter any longer, and that’s a kind of relief, too, to let go of my fear of letting him know that I want him, to stop fighting my own desires. I give myself over to it, to the heated pleasure, the feeling of his mouth sucking, his tongue swirling over my most intimate flesh, his hands pressed against my thighs, and I cry out as he presses his tongue against the most sensitive spot—and I come unraveled against his mouth.

I scream his name, my hips bucking against him, an orgasm stronger than anything I’ve had before crashing over me. He holds me in place, still sucking, licking, driving me higher, and I think it’s never going to end. I’m never going to stop coming on his mouth, never going to stop feeling as if the world is dissolving around me in liquid heat, and then, as it starts to fade, he slides up my body, and I feel the thick press of him against my drenched entrance.

“You can tell me to stop,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’ll stop if you want, Lilliana. Butgod, I need to be inside of you.”

“I need you too,” I whisper, and I see the look on his face, it’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. “I need you. Please—”

He pushes into me slowly, careful of my bruised and battered body. Each inch of his swollen cock almost feels like too much, stretching me past my limits, but it feels good, too. I love the way it feels when he fills me—I always have, even when I hated it, too. And now that I’ve given in to it, it feels so much better.

Just like he promised me it would.

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