Page 39 of Hostage of the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #7)

This kiss was different from the playful ones they’d shared at dinner or the quick brush of lips in the car.

This was deep, thorough, and full of promise.

His hands tangled in her hair while hers fisted in his shirt, both of them pouring months of love and gratitude and hope into the connection between them.

When he lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the stairs, she didn’t protest. She didn’t need to. She curled into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, the warmth of his body enveloping her like a promise.

When he laid her gently on their bed, his touch was reverent, fingers gliding over her body like she was something sacred. He kissed her softly, then again, slower, deeper, until the world faded around them and there was only this. Only him.

He began undressing her, not hurriedly, but with aching patience. Each button undone, each fabric slipped away was followed by a kiss, a trail of heat down her collarbone, across her ribs. And when he reached the faint, pale scar on her lower abdomen, his hands stilled.

She froze too, watching him with held breath.

He lowered himself and pressed a kiss to the spot. Soft. Lingering.

“This,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. “This is proof of how strong you are.”

Her eyes burned, but she said nothing. She couldn’t. Not when he kissed it again, and again, like it was something holy. Like it wasn’t a wound, but a mark of survival.

“You’re here,” he whispered against her skin. “You’re alive. And you’re mine.”

Tears welled in her eyes, not from sadness, but from the unbearable tenderness of the moment. She touched his face, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He looked up at her, his eyes shining. “No. Thank you—for staying. For fighting.”

He kissed her hip, then continued downward, fingers tracing the curve of her body, leaving behind a trail of warmth and reverence. Across her hips. Over her thighs. Down to the inside of her knees, and back up with maddening care.

When he settled between her legs, his hands parted her with a tenderness that made her breath catch. And then his mouth was on her, hot, wet, and devastating.

She cried out, her hips arching, but he held her down, licking and sucking with exquisite care.

His tongue circled her clit, slow and deliberate, driving her out of her mind.

He groaned against her when she moaned his name, the vibration making her tremble harder.

When he slid a finger inside, she nearly came undone.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking as he added a second finger, curling just right.

He didn’t stop until she shattered, her thighs trembling, back arching off the bed as a cry tore from her lips. He licked her through it, drinking her in like he couldn’t get enough.

Only then did he rise over her, positioning himself at her entrance. He kissed her, slow and deep, as he pushed inside her inch by inch, filling her completely.

She gasped into his mouth, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he began to move, slow and deep, each thrust a gentle claim. His body pressed against hers, skin to skin, their hearts pounding in time.

There was no urgency. No wild frenzy. Just the sweet, aching stretch of connection as he made love to her like he was trying to memorize every part of her.

Their eyes locked and held, and in that gaze was everything: the past they’d survived, the present they cherished, and the future they were building.

“I love you,” she whispered, cupping his face in her hands as the pleasure built between them. “I love you so much.”

“ Ya tebya lyublyu ,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “Forever, Azriel. Forever.”

His thrusts grew a little faster, deeper, as the heat between them surged. Her body moved with his naturally, meeting each stroke with a roll of her hips. The pressure built slowly, a tide swelling between them, until she was gasping with every movement, her nails digging into his back.

He reached down and circled her clit with his fingers, and she broke again, clinging to him as pleasure washed over her. He groaned her name, hips thrusting once, twice more before he found his own release, spilling into her with a low, shuddering cry.

But he didn’t pull away.

He stayed inside her, their foreheads pressed together as they tried to catch their breath. One of his hands slid along her hip, the other brushing her hair back tenderly.

“You okay?” he whispered, searching her eyes.

She nodded, a shaky smile curling her lips. “Better than okay.”

Still joined, they stayed like that for long minutes, basking in the warmth of what they’d just shared. Then slowly, almost shyly, she shifted beneath him, her body still trembling but wanting more, not out of hunger or desperation, but because it felt like coming home.

He watched her carefully as she rolled him onto his back and straddled him, her thighs trembling but determined. His hands went to her waist as she sank down onto him again, both of them gasping at the renewed connection.

“Greedy?” he asked with a breathless chuckle.

“Maybe,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss him. “I just love the way you feel.”

Her movements were slow, deliberate, each roll of her hips a tender affirmation of love. He let her set the pace, hands gripping her thighs, his eyes never leaving hers. The moment turned languid, almost dreamlike, the pleasure sweet and drawn out.

She bent forward, pressing kisses to his lips, his neck, his chest. “You make me feel real,” she whispered against his skin.

“You are,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. “You’re everything.”

They moved together in perfect rhythm, building slowly, riding wave after wave of sensation until they were trembling again, the world reduced to just them.

When they came together this time, it was quieter, deeper—a shared surrender that felt like forever.

He collapsed against her, their bodies still joined, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She held him as they both trembled, sweat-slicked and breathless, wrapped in the warmth of what they’d just shared.

But neither of them moved.

His hands roamed slowly down her spine, then up again, as though memorizing her anew. She pressed a soft kiss to his temple, her breath still shaky. When she shifted, intending to pull away, he tightened his grip.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Stay like this. I want to feel you a little longer.”

So she stilled, still filled, still cradled against his chest, and they breathed together—slow, measured, whole.

Minutes passed like that, heavy with quiet awe. And then his hips shifted slightly beneath her, just enough to draw a soft gasp from her lips.

“You’re insatiable,” she breathed, smiling even as heat rushed back through her.

“For you?” His voice rasped, deep with want. “Always.”

He began to move again, slow and languid, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from her already-sensitive body. It wasn’t about climax this time. It was about devotion. About loving her until there was nothing left but the sound of her name on his lips.

And when they stopped again—spent, trembling, utterly unraveled, he kissed her softly, reverently, like she was something made of starlight and fate.

When he finally rolled to his side, he pulled her with him, keeping her close, one hand resting over her heart.

“I feel you everywhere,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He kissed her forehead. “That’s because you’re mine. And I’m yours.”

And in the quiet afterward, wrapped in each other’s arms, they didn’t need words to know what they meant.

They had each other. Completely.

Afterward, he held her close while their racing hearts gradually slowed. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder while she drew circles on his chest, both of them content to simply exist in this perfect moment.

“What are you thinking about now?” he asked softly.

“How lucky I am,” she replied honestly. “Six months ago, I thought my life was over. Now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

He tightened his arms around her. “You saved me, too, you know. I was so focused on revenge and power that I’d forgotten what it felt like to actually live. You reminded me.”

She lifted her head to look at him, seeing the truth of his words in his expression. “We saved each other.”

“We did.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “So what happens now?”

“Now we live,” she said simply. “We build our careers, we love each other, we fight sometimes, and make up spectacularly. We have babies someday if we want them. We grow old together.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She settled back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I never believed in fairy tales before.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Better,” she said with a smile. “Fairy tales are fantasy. This is real.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she felt him smile against her hair. “Real is better than fantasy any day.”

As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she couldn’t help but marvel at the journey that had brought them here. It hadn’t been easy, and it certainly hadn’t been conventional. But it had been theirs, and that made it perfect.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges and new joys. But tonight, she was exactly where she belonged: home in the arms of the man who loved her, surrounded by the life they’d built together from the ashes of their separate pasts.

It was more than she’d ever dared to dream.

It was everything.

*****

THE END