Page 42 of Marrying the Pakhan

I meet her eyes. “How much I’m going to give you tonight.”

Her breath catches, but she doesn’t look away.

I step closer, brush my knuckles down the center of her chest, between her breasts, over her stomach, until I reach the waistband of her jeans.

I unbutton them, lower the zipper, and ease them down her hips along with her underwear. She steps out of them without being asked. Now, she’s completely bare in front of me, and I’m still fully dressed. The imbalance feels intentional.

I walk her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She sits. I stay standing for a moment, just looking at her—the way the low light sits on her skin, the slight rise and fall of her chest, the trust in her eyes that still undoes me more than it should.

Then I start talking as I undress.

“I’ve spent fifteen years making sure no one got close enough to matter.” My shirt hits the floor. “It was the only way I knew how to keep people alive. Including myself.” I unbuckle my belt, push my pants and boxers down, kick them aside. “You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to fail at that with.”

I kneel on the bed and move over her, bracing my weight on my forearms so I’m close but not yet pressing her down. My mouth is near her ear.

“I used to think wanting someone like this made me weak. That needing them made me dangerous to the people I was supposed to protect.” My hand slides up her side, slow, claiming nothing yet. “With you it doesn’t feel like weakness. It just feels true.”

I lift my head enough to look at her face. Her eyes are darker now, lips parted. She reaches up and rests her palm against my cheek. The simple touch nearly undoes the rest of my restraint.

“I don’t know how to be careful with you anymore,” I tell her. “And I don’t want to learn.”

I kiss her then—nothing held back. My hand finds her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until she makes a soft sound into my mouth.

I swallow it and keep going, kissing down her throat, across her collarbone, taking my time with each place that makes her breathe change.

When I finally settle between her legs, I don’t push inside yet. I just rest there, the hard length of me against her, feeling how wet she already is. I stay still and keep talking, voice lower now.

“You walked into my club and asked me to marry you like it was the only door left open. I said yes because something in me already knew I wasn’t going to be able to stay away from you.” My forehead rests against hers. “I’ve been yours longer than I’ve admitted out loud. I’m done pretending otherwise.”

I push into her slowly, watching her face the entire time.

The heat of her takes me inch by inch until I’m fully seated, buried deep, and neither of us moves. Her breath shudders out against my mouth. I stay exactly there, letting her feel the full weight of me inside her while I keep my eyes on hers.

“This is what I meant,” I say, voice rough. “No distance. Not with you.”

I start to move—long, measured strokes that drag almost all the way out before I sink back in. Every thrust is intentional. I can feel her walls tighten around me each time I bottom out, can feel the way her thighs press against my hips when I go particularly deep.

“Viktor—”

“I know.” I kiss the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then the soft place just below her ear. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Not once. Not even close.”

My rhythm stays steady for a while, almost reverent, until the need starts clawing higher. I feel it in the base of my spine, in the way my arms start to shake slightly where I’m braced above her. I don’t fight it this time. I let the control slip on purpose.

The thrusts get deeper, harder. Still not frantic—just heavier, more honest. Her nails dig into my back. A broken sound leaves her throat, and I swallow it with another kiss.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to keep,” I tell her, the words coming out low and raw against her lips as I drive into her. “The only one I didn’t calculate my way around. You walked in and every plan I had stopped mattering.”

Her back arches. I feel her start to tighten around me, close already. I slide one hand under her knee and push it higher, changing the angle so every stroke hits deeper. Her eyes stay open, locked on mine, and that unbroken eye contact is what finally undoes me more than anything physical.

“Come with me,” I say.

She does—body locking tight around me, a soft, shattered cry against my mouth as she comes. The feel of her pulsing around my cock pulls me under right after her. I bury myself to the hilt and let go with a low, guttural sound, spilling deep inside her while my forehead drops against hers.

I stay there, still joined, breathing hard. My heart is slamming against my ribs. Hers is racing just as fast beneath me.

After a long moment, I ease out carefully and shift onto my side, pulling her with me so her head rests on my chest. My arm settles around her shoulders. One of her hands curls loosely against my ribs.

I don’t speak. Neither does she. The things I already said sit between us heavier than any silence I’ve ever kept.