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When he finally lifts his head, I sigh in relief, ready for him to finally end the agony he’s created. But instead, he smiles at me before he grabs my hips and slides down my body. I clench, waiting. His lips graze my inner thigh, the tender flesh, the spot just above.
But only grazes, kisses, light nips, until I feel like I’m about to burst.
“Gavriil.”
“What?”
I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Please!”
“Please what?”
“You—”
He moves then, a deep kiss to the most intimate part of my body. I arch up and cry out, my hands grasping, sliding through his hair, over his shoulders. He makes love to me with his mouth, keeping me in a frenzied state as he alternates between short, teasing kisses and long, slow dances of his tongue across my skin.
One minute pleasure is spiraling through me. In a second, it shatters, leaving me trembling. He moves up my body and slides inside before I can catch my breath. Still shaking, I wrap my arms around him and hold on as he moves inside me. Slow strokes at first, deep ones that I feel all the way to my soul. His eyes hold mine, the emotion reflected in those pale blue depths enough to obliterate any lingering doubts.
I whisper his name as I lift my hips to meet his thrusts. His gaze darkens as he groans, his hips quickening as I hold on to his shoulders, the peak inside me building until I know I’m going to explode, break apart into a million pieces unless he—
He covers my mouth with his. It sends me over the edge. I cry out as I crest. He follows a moment later, my name on his lips as we shatter together.
Gavriil
I wake to sun filling the suite. Juliette and I lie together, pressed against each other as if we can’t get enough. I wait for the uneasiness to settle in. But it doesn’t. Lying here with Juliette in my arms feels right.
She stirs and smiles up at me with sleepy eyes.
“I could get used to this.” Her eyes widen and her cheeks pale. “I just meant...good sex.”
She wrinkles her nose and tries to roll away. Laughing, I grab her arm and pull her back.
“You’ve never had good sex before?”
“I’ve had good sex,” she mumbles against my chest.
I frown into her hair. I’ve never been the jealous type before. But the thought of any other man touching her incites an anger I’ve never experienced before. One that includes vivid images of me planting my fist in their face. Completely unfair, especially given the numerous women I’ve entertained over the years.
But I don’t care. I don’t like it.
“I just haven’t had mind-blowing, spine-tingling, sleep-inducing sex.”
The jealousy dissipates. I arch a brow down at her. “Are you trying to stroke my ego?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Your ego doesn’t need any stroking.” Her hand drifts teasingly down my stomach. “Now other parts of your anatomy...”
“After breakfast. I need my strength if we’re going to spend all morning in bed together.”
Her eyes brighten. “All morning?”
My arms tighten about her. Last night, she opened up again. Except instead of confiding secrets from the past, she shared something even greater: her fear. The one thing holding her back, something so personal she hadn’t even shared it with the people in her life who loved her and she them. The gift of her trust, the deeper understanding of everything she had been through and what had spurred her to investigate Rafe and me in the first place, had wiped away the last lingering bit of resentment I hadn’t even realized I’d still harbored.
It also left me wanting to do the same. To share with her. Not just my bed, not just my body, but myself. I had resisted it before in Paris. But now, for the first time in my adult life, I wanted to share a piece of myself.
I don’t prepare her. I just speak. If I try to explain, to give any context, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get through this.
“My mother and I lived in squalor in Santorini.”