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She breaks apart beautifully, her body clenching around mine as she cries out. I keep moving, drawing out her pleasure until she's trembling, until she's begging me to stop and begging me not to stop in the same breath.
Only then do I let myself go, burying my face in her neck as I come with her name on my lips.
I lie beside Evelyn, our bodies still tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin. Her head rests on my chest, her breath evening out. I run my fingers through her hair, letting the silky strands slip between them.
This is dangerous. Not just the situation with Ivan, but this—whatever the fuck is happening between us. I've never brought a woman here. Never wanted one in my space. But with Evelyn, I want her everywhere. In my bed, in my shower, playing that damn violin in my living room.
She shifts against me, her fingertips tracing the tattoo on my ribs. "What did you learn today? About Ivan?"
I stiffen, not wanting to bring that monster into this moment. But she deserves to know what we're facing.
"He sent an ultimatum." My voice sounds rougher than I expected. "Seventy-two hours to hand you over."
Her fingers freeze on my skin. "Or what?"
"Or it's war." I stare at the ceiling, calculating how many men Ivan could mobilize in New York. How many we'd lose if this turns into a bloodbath.
"You should give me to him." Her voice is quiet but steady.
I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. "That's not happening."
"Why not? It's the logical solution. One person versus how many would die in a war between families?"
"Because he'll hurt you." The words come out harshly. "You haven't seen what Ivan does to people. What he's capable of."
She holds my gaze. "And you're not capable of the same things?"
I don't answer. We both know the truth.
"What happens after seventy-two hours?" she asks.
"We prepare for war." I trail her collarbone with my thumb.
"And what about me?"
"I keep you safe." I pull her closer, breathing in the scent of her hair. "No matter what it takes."
She's quiet for a moment. "People will die because of me."
"No," I correct her. "People will die because Ivan's a power-hungry psychopath who thinks he can take whatever he wants."
I lie against Noah's chest, my body still humming, when my stomach denounces me with an embarrassingly loud growl. The sound breaks through the heavy silence between us.
Noah's chest vibrates with a low chuckle. "Someone's hungry."
I press my face into his shoulder, mortified. "Ignore it."
"Not a chance." He shifts beneath me, gently moving me aside as he sits up. "We need to eat. Can't fight a war on an empty stomach."
The casual mention of war makes my chest constrict. While we've been locked in this strange tango of attraction and resistance, people are preparing to kill each other. Because of me.
Noah pulls on his pants and reaches for his shirt. I wrap the sheet around myself, suddenly feeling exposed in more ways than one.
"Come on," he says, extending his hand. "Kitchen. Now."
I follow him to the kitchen, pulling on one of his t-shirts that hangs like a dress on my frame.
"We need to find Jessica." The words burst out of me. "She could be in danger—Ivan might use her to get to me."