Page 24

Chapter 24

Almost a Future

Vasiliyi

T he words fall from my mouth before I can stop them.

“I love you.”

Fuck. It lands like a shot in the dark—loud, raw, irreversible. For a man like me, that confession is more dangerous than a bullet. And Galina just stares. Her lips part, still swollen from our last kiss, but no sound comes. Her eyes are wide. As if she’s waiting for me to laugh it off. To turn it into a joke.

But I don’t.

My heart pounds like I’m about to walk into an ambush. She swallows hard. Her armor cracks for half a breath—just long enough for me to see the tremble behind her eyes. I reach out, brushing my thumb along the edge of her cheekbone, memorizing the shape of her. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. But she doesn’t speak either.

And that silence?

It’s a knife.

I brace myself to tell her I meant it—every word, every breath—but then she says, “I love you too.”

It’s barely a whisper. A break in her voice like wind over glass. But it cuts straight through me, slicing deeper than anything I’ve taken in a fight.

Before I can think, I’m kissing her. Hard. Desperate. My fingers bury themselves in her hair, pulling her close. I want to devour her. To crawl inside her skin and never leave. But I don’t. I can’t. She’s still healing. So I pour every ounce of control I have into keeping it soft.

She kisses me back like she’s trying to memorize the feel of my mouth, her nails biting into my forearm, anchoring us both. When I finally pull away, it’s only because we need air.

“I love you, Galina.” My voice comes out hoarse, thick with things I’ve never said. “With everything I am. I’ll burn this city to the fucking ground before I let anyone hurt you again.”

Her hand cups my jaw. “I love you, Vasiliy.” She says it like a vow. A surrender. A battle cry.

And just like that, I know she’s mine.

Mine to fight for. Mine to protect. Mine to love.

I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in. Sweetness and steel. Vanilla and fire. It smells like home. My arms wrap around her, possessive but tender, and I swear something breaks open inside me. Something dangerous and soft, coiling low and hot.

Let them try to come for her. Let them think they can touch her.

They’ll bleed for it.

“Good,” I murmur into her hair, meaning every word with the kind of conviction that leaves bodies in graves.

Then I scoop her into my arms.

“Come on,” I say, rougher than I mean to. “Bed.”

She lets out a soft, surprised giggle—light, real—and buries her face in my neck. “Only if you promise not to make me rest.”

I huff a laugh. “Wasn’t planning on sleeping, lisichka .”

The word slips out before I can stop it. I freeze.

I told her I wouldn’t call her that anymore.

But she doesn’t flinch.

Instead, she lifts her head, eyes warm and steady. “I like when you say it,” she says softly, catching the moment in my face. “You don’t have to stop.”

Something shifts in my chest. Sharp. Light. A little dangerous.

I carry her down the hall, and for the first time in a long time, the pounding in my heart doesn’t feel like a warning.

It feels like joy.

I lay her down like something precious and powerful all at once. She watches me, unflinching. There’s no fear there. No hesitation. Just trust. Trust in me.

And fuck if that doesn’t unravel me completely.

I reach for the hem of her shirt, pausing to meet her gaze.

She nods.

That’s all I need.

I pull the shirt over her head, baring her body to me. She’s wearing nothing but lace panties so sheer they might as well be air. And the sight of her—bruised but unbroken—nearly drops me to my knees.

I drink her in. The curve of her hips. The soft slope of her stomach. Her breasts, full and perfect, the nipples already tight. She’s a map of strength and scars and softness, and every inch is fucking exquisite.

My hands drift across her skin, slow and careful. I trace each bruise, each fading mark, committing them to memory. Each one a sin I’ll make Matvei pay for tenfold.

She reaches up, placing her palm on my chest. “Come here.”

I raise a brow. “We have to be careful. You’re hurt.”

“I want you,” she says, voice breathy. Her fingers trail down my arm, then skim my jaw. “Right now.”

I move above her, claiming her mouth. Every gentle kiss, every tender lick, the way her body responds to my touch—a quiet cry, a press of her hips, her mouth opening on a moan. No room for mistakes, no misunderstandings. For the first time, I feel truly in the moment. No calculations, no schemes. Nothing but a bright, burning heat that sinks into my blood.

A loud groan escapes me when she reaches down and palms the bulge in my pants. The feeling of her slender hands unzipping my fly and freeing my cock sends me closer to the edge. Instead of fucking her, I nuzzle her neck and nip at her jawline. Her soft breath caresses my cheek, and her lovely face is a mix of need and awe. My fingers slip beneath the waistband of her panties, pushing them down to her ankles. I pause to knead the soft skin of her inner thighs.

Spreading her legs further, I find her wet cunt and run the pad of my thumb over her clit. She arches against the mattress, body begging for me. Teasing her slowly, circling her sensitive flesh, I capture her cries and protests in a deep kiss. A sweet agony builds inside me, surging toward release.

When her breathing turns ragged, I kiss my way down her body, claiming every beautiful inch, relishing every quiet gasp and pleading moan.

“Vasiliy, please!” Her hands tighten in my hair, pulling me closer.

I obey, lowering my mouth to her pussy and devouring her. She trembles against my tongue, jerking her hips up to meet my touch. It’s not long until her hands fist in the sheets, her entire body arching, desperate for release. Slipping two fingers inside her hot, slick cunt, I tongue her swollen clit. Heat floods through me at the realization that I’m the one drawing out this rapture, the one wrenching her control and twisting it into need. Fierce possessiveness fills me, echoed by each shuddering gasp and murmured Russian swear.

Then she tenses, her voice breaking around a high-pitched plea.

“Fuck,” she swears, a wild smile lighting her face.

“Fucking sounds good to me.” I chuckle, but I don’t let up.

“Bastard.” Her back arches as she clutches the sheet so hard her knuckles go white. Another shudder rips through her, sweat sheening her body.

“Your bastard,” I say, because those words fit a truth that’s dug deep into my bones.

I’ll show her just how true that is, no matter how long it takes.

Despite the storm raging between us, I pull back from her trembling body. Rising to my knees, I pull my shirt over my head and shove my jeans down. My cock springs free. I grip my shaft, stroking the throbbing, aching length.

She parts her legs, wanting me.

I refuse to give her what she wants, keeping the head just out of reach.

Her mouth is as flushed as the rest of her. When her pink tongue darts out and drags along her parted lips, I curse and drag her gently to the edge of the bed. Positioning my cock at her entrance, I push in with a slow thrust, a low groan torn from my throat. The intense heat grips my cock like a fucking vise.

“No, Galina,” I grind out, biting back another curse when her muscles tense around me.

She stills her rocking hips, lifting her head to blink up at me.

My hand lifts, gripping her chin. “Patience. Wait for me.”

The wide jade eyes stare up at me. She seems surprised by the scolding, but the glint in those gorgeous green irises is telling, daring me to take her, to get rougher.

“Hold onto the sheets,” I tell her, settling the comforter more firmly in her grasp. “And don’t let go.”

Galina digs her nails into the fabric, anchoring herself to the mattress. As a reward, I flex my hips and give her a deep, long stroke. She keens, the high sound broken and glorious. I repeat the motion, her fiery glare giving way to a pleasured desperation. Our bodies collide in a rhythm of aching grace, my mind fixed on one single goal—to see how long I can stretch out our lovemaking. This woman brings out my possessive nature, awakening urges I don’t recall feeling before.

This time, though, I plan on being gentle. For her sake. So I can prove we’re worth this.

Then she moans a request, and the struggle begins again.

“Harder.”

I grit my teeth. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

I curse. “Ask properly.”

“Fuck me hard, Vasiliy. Please.”

Grunting, I adjust my pace. Now I’m focused, because her last request is a danger to my hard work. This is supposed to be sweet, not an unexpected sex fest in the middle of the afternoon. When her muscles grip me tight and shudder, I hold back, withdrawing almost completely to make her need it all over again.

“Oh, yes,” she whispers, relaxing against me.

I stop moving entirely and exhale, reining myself in. All I want is to forget about her injuries and pounce, take her while she’s unhinged and desperate for me. But that can’t happen, not when she’s still recovering. Not now. Maybe someday soon, she’ll wake up demanding raw and rough play, begging for everything I am and have.

“Vasiliy,” Galina demands, opening her legs as wide as they’ll go. Her words are filled with frustration.

When she wriggles her hips, I pause long enough to pin her wrists in place. She surrenders with a whimper, leaning back and letting me pound away.

I’ll stop if necessary. But I think a change of speed is allowed.

Tension crackles between us. We rock together faster, deeper, each stroke building. Her orgasm comes a moment later. When her inner muscles clench around me, and her head tilts back, eyes rolling in her head, the sight shoves me off the cliff too.

Pleasure blindsides me. Gritting my teeth, I grip her hips tightly and flood her with my seed, marking her forever. And that’s all it takes for my heart to burst. Overwhelmed by the truth of our shared existence, my face sinks into the curve of her neck, lips skimming soft, fragrant skin.

Our bodies speak a language of scars and survival, each touch a confession neither of us could voice. This isn’t some pure, untainted love; it’s forged in blood and gunpowder, in the spaces between bullets and betrayal. Every kiss brands promises into our skin: no more running, no more loneliness, no more fighting our demons alone.

We crash together like storm-dark waves against jagged rocks, two lethal forces finding salvation in destruction. What others see as broken, we recognize as battle-tested—every scar, every shadow in our souls clicking into place like the pieces of a weapon. Our love isn’t clean or safe. It’s razor-sharp edges fitting perfectly against each other’s wounds, a fusion of steel and gunmetal that makes us deadlier together than apart.

This connection runs deeper than flesh, than the electric current of pleasure-pain that binds us. We’re warriors who carved our paths through hell itself, now forging something unbreakable from the ashes of who we used to be. In each other’s arms, we’re both weapon and sanctuary, danger and salvation—a love powerful enough to set the world on fire.

Panting, we sink against each other, our bodies one, the force of what we’ve just done resonating through every inch. I give her a final hard, deep thrust.

Hovering above her, I capture her mouth in a gentle kiss, the frenzy between us quieting. Our faces brush together, her auburn strands tangling in my stubble. Contentment settles over me, deeper than anything I’ve felt before, and I savor the moment, memorizing her smile and the sweet tangle of her body in mine. The look we share holds a dozen secrets that still need to be deciphered, a web that needs to be untangled. There will be many moments like this one, and I’ll enjoy them all.

Like an addict, I’ll never have enough.

When I finally shift position and my cock slips free, we both groan.

I collapse beside her, an arm resting protectively across her chest. She turns her head, smiling faintly. Her messy hair obscures my view of her beautiful face. I thread my fingers through the red-brown strands, enjoying the silken texture.

My hand rests lightly on her hip. She sighs and snuggles deeper into the covers, her face turned toward me. Something tells me that, at least for a little while, we’ve both earned a break.

Whatever tomorrow brings, we’ll face it together.

Until then, there’s peace. The sweetest ecstasy of all.

“I forgot to tell you,” I murmur into her hair, “Raffe will come to the penthouse tomorrow to guard you.”

Galina tenses in my arms, giving me the slightest hint that this was the wrong thing to say.

I raise myself on my elbow. “Do you want someone else to come?”

Galina’s brows furrow. “Why would they come here? I’ll be at the club with you.”

“No, you won’t,” I tell her slowly. “You’re staying here. Safe.”

Galina sits up. “You’re not locking me up.”

“I’m not locking you up,” I counter. “I’m keeping you safe.”

“By locking me up,” she argues and climbs off the bed.

“Galina, wait,” I call after her. “Where are you going?”

“To my room,” she snaps at me over her shoulder. “Away from you.”

I stare at her retreating figure, wondering how we went from happy in love to sleeping in separate bedrooms in less than an hour. To confirm that we’re fighting again, Galina promptly slams the door.

“Fucking great,” I mutter and throw myself back in bed, looking at the ceiling. It had to be my shitty sense of timing again.