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“Orien,” I manage, his name coming out ragged.

He raises his head. “Say it again.”

The order settles deep inside me, and my hands come up to slide under his jacket and grip his shoulders, fingers digging into the solid muscle beneath his shirt. “Orien.”

He purrs, a sound of satisfaction that vibrates through me, and his hand climbs higher, his thumb brushing my nipple. The contact sends heat racing down my spine, and my hips jerk forward again, seeking friction.

The room closes in around me, the air between us charged with a live current I don’t dare name. I want his hands everywhere, want to be touched until nothing remains of the careful distance put in place by my mission.

Orien shoves me harder against the wall as his mouth returns to mine. The kiss takes possession without apology, and I answer it with everything I have, my hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.

I’ve been holding myself back for so long, playing a role built from equal parts truth and lie, that surrender crashes through me in a wave strong enough to leave me shaking. My fingers curl into his shirt, holding on as if he might disappear if I let go.

He won’t. That’s the terrifying, wonderful truth of it. He’s right here, solid and real, and what’s happening between us has nothing to do with missions or infiltration or the family business.

For once, it’s about what I want.

The thought should scare me. Instead, it pulls a sound from my throat, half-laugh, half-sob.

Orien frowns. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I scrub a hand over my face. “Everything. I just...” The sentence falls apart halfway through. “I’m so tired.”

Compassion flickers through Orien. “Then let me take care of you.”

Orien takes my hand and leads me from the wall to the bedroom. The space is as sparse as the living room, with only the necessities. He releases my hand when we reach the bed and turns to me, his fingers finding the buttons of my shirt.

He undresses me without ceremony, and my shirt falls open, then off, his fingers brushing my skin in light touches that leave goose bumps in their wake.

My belt comes next, the leather sliding free with a hiss, followed by the zipper of my trousers. He drops to one knee to help me take off my shoes and step out of them, his hands warm on my calves and ankles, and the simple act of being undressed this way leaves my throat tight.

By the time I stand in only my boxers, my dick strains the front of the fabric, slick gathers at my entrance, and I have to bite my lip to keep a sound from slipping out.

From where he kneels, Orien takes me in from head to toe, fingers dipping beneath the leg of my boxers to brush my inner thighs, and my breath catches at his undisguised desire. “You’re beautiful.”

My hands drop to the collar of his jacket. “Your turn.”

Before I can push it off his shoulders, Orien catches both my wrists and rises to trap them behind my back, forcing my back to arch. The move puts me off balance, and I tip toward the bed.

“Hey,” I protest, the word coming out breathless.

Orien crowds into my space until all I can focus on is him. “You said you wanted to forget yourself.” The words puff across my parted lips. “So, you don’t have to do anything.”

It’s the single hardest thing I’ve ever been asked to do.

My life has been built on control, on never showing my hand, on always being three steps ahead and keeping my thoughts to myself until I’ve determined how much to reveal. Even with Alexei, the one person I’ve never lied to, there are parts of myself I keep tucked away.

But here, now, with Orien’s hands on me, I want to surrender the careful reserve I’ve maintained since I was old enough to understand what it meant to be useful.

So I do.

I stop fighting his grip and let him take my weight, giving him as clear an answer as I can manage.

Orien releases my wrists to cup my cheeks, his thumb brushing my lower lip, and I turn my head to catch the pad between my teeth, biting down hard enough to leave a mark.

A sound rumbles in his chest. “Get on the bed.”

I do as he asks, the comforter cool beneath my overheated skin.