Page 133 of Deadly Knight

He approaches the edge of the mattress. “That’s the entire reason you’re back, right? For my bed.”

“Why else would I return?”

He chuckles at my teasing before climbing onto the bed and kneeling between my spread legs. His gaze ignites a fire within me, promising much more, given the plane only offered so much space.

Then his eyes flick to my right arm, scanning over the old scars that don’t make me want to hide anymore. Instead, I remain motionless, allowing him to study the most vulnerable parts of me, and it’s here he lingers as he reaches for his own wrist, the one with my ribbon on it.

It takes his thick fingers effort, but after a few curses and grunts, he manages to have it untied and suspended in the space between us. But it’s not the ribbon that catches my attention; it’s his wrist.

Beneath the physical ribbon is a tattooed one, the exact same shade of emerald green.

I sit up, reaching for his arm, finger tracing over the line as thick as my thumb, following the delicate folds and shading, making the ink come alive. It’s so different from every other tattoo on his body, most—if not all—are symbols of his service to the Bratva.

“When did you get this done?”

“A few months after you left.” Given its dullness, he means ten years ago, not my more recent exit. “Wanted to make sure that if I ever lost the actual one, I’d always have it—haveyou—with me. You’ve been a permanent fixture on my soul since the party we met at, so it felt only right to have a physical manifestation of that permanence as well.” He spins his arm until it’s pressing against mine, his tattoo along my scars, pausing there. The deep emotion in his expression says more than words ever will.

After a moment, he loops the silk along my wrist twice, settling it in the place it once sat for years. It may have been a decade since then, but the way my body sparks to life, reveals how misplaced I’ve been without it.

“But this…this one’s yours, and always has been.”

He ties it quickly, as though scared I’ll pull away before he finishes, but no. Not again. This ribbon will never leave me.

“Thank you for keeping it safe.”

He pulls my arm to his mouth, pressing a closed-mouth kiss to my pulse right above the ribbon. “It kept me sane.”

“Maybe I could get it tattooed as well. Given the state of this poor thing, I’m shocked it’s still together.” Nora once asked if I had any tattoos, but I don’t. Not out of dislike or fear of the needle, but because they reminded me of Dimitri. Getting one on my body would send all my safety barriers crashing down, and beneath the needle isn’t a prime time for an anxiety attack. None of that matters anymore, though. Iwantto be reminded of him, to have a permanent one.

His eyes shift with emotions unnamed before cupping my face in one hand, the expanse of his palm not only covering my cheek but some of my neck as well.

Then his mouth is consuming me, my lips parting beneath his. His tongue tangles with mine and he presses me back onto the bed, his legs bracketing my thighs. He’s quick to undo my jeans and yank my shirt overhead, tossing it to the floor.

In between breaths, he strips from his own shirt and undoes his pants, barely shrugging them off before taking himself in his hand.

“I take it you like the idea?”

A guttural noise is his only response before his mouth latches to one nipple, tongue flicking almost angrily before shifting to my other. He kisses down my stomach until reaching my core and his tongue slides over my clit, my body coming to life beneath him. Hands link with mine, holding them off to the side, rendering me unable to move; something only he’s allowed to do.

His tongue sinks as deep as the angle allows for, rotating over my clit before fucking me, the dance continuing until I’m rocking against his mouth, chasing the orgasm that’s seconds away.

Until he pulls away with a cruel grin, takes himself in hand, and thrusts inside me in one go, my back bowing off the bed. His hands clench mine harder, keeping me in place.

“Tak krasivo. Itak moy.”So beautiful. So mine.

Despite the quick way he entered me, his thrusts are languid, pulling out until only the head of his cock is inside me, before lowering all the way back down. It’s almost crueller than taking me fast and hard, but it’s in his slow movements, Dimitri’s love pours from him.

His head ducks between us, gaze catching on mine. “As soon as you want to, you can get that tattoo.” His hand shifts until he’sable to stroke along the ribbon. “You’re right, this thing’s seen quite the day. Might be nice to have something permanent.”

“I’m not taking it off, regardless. It’ll stay until the day it crumbles. Or I die. Whichever comes first.”

He releases my hands to hike one leg up onto his hip, sinking into me at a slightly different angle that makes me breathe faster.

“Moya dusha, you’re not dying. Not while I’m alive to protect you. If you haven’t realized that by now, I’ve fuckin’ failed.”

“You don’t fail at anything.”

All the playfulness leaves his expression. His thrusts slow until he’s only holding himself inside me. “I failed that day. I should have been more forceful in sending you back to the party. Should have tried to run with you. Done better to fight. Should have paid better attention to my surroundings.”