Page 58 of Scarlet Promise

I’ve only ever done this with one other person, and he’s gone. And this…this is new. All over again. Different in the best way; familiar in the best way, too.

As he stretches me, thrusting into me with harder, rougher thrusts, I tremble. The pleasure is a wild bloom of nerve endings that are in one place and everywhere, all at the same time.

When I start to come, it’s a whole-body experience, one that’s intense and divine and pure. I close my eyes as my vision wavers. A booming wave takes me over, deep, sublime, an intensity of connection and pleasure that can’t ever be captured. An intensity that’s a nail’s edge between perfection and too much and utterly sublime.

He grunts and thrusts deeply, holding me as he cums inside me. The twitch of his cock sends more waves through me, and I can feel the spurts inside.

Ilya collapses down on me, kissing my cheek, my ear, my throat as he strokes back my hair.

When he pulls out, I hear the hiss of his zipper. He then picks me up, turning me and taking me to the sofa, where he lies down with me, holding me as the intoxicating waves slide through me until they’re gone.

I’m replete, born again, his.

“How long do I have you for tonight?” he asks.

Albert jumps up on us, settling in what can only be a heap on an uncomfortable bed of limbs.

But I relish his heat and weight, the love that emanates from him that’s big enough to fill the world. It echoes the warmth of emotion that comes from Ilya, comes from within me.

Downstairs my bodyguard will be waiting.

I know I have to go back tonight.

I just wish I didn’t.

“I could stay.”

“Fuck, Alina, I want nothing more for you to stay, but baby steps. We’ll work on you coming back to live with me, but in this, I agree with Demyan.”

I look up at him. “You agree with him that we should be apart?”

“No.” He drops a kiss on my lips. “I agree you’re safer with him.”

“But earlier?—”

“Malyshka,” he murmurs, “it’s not a matter of you trusting me to protect you, or me being able to do it. This is about the best place for you, and right now, that’s with Demyan. Away from my weakened bratva.”

I frown. “Ilya?—”

“Baby steps,” he says in Russian to emphasize the importance of what he’s trying to say. “We are also building trust. And right now, I need to know you’re safe so I can concentrate on ending the risk and getting you back here faster.”

I want to argue, but I keep quiet. Not because he won’t listen—this is Ilya; of course he will. But I know he has a point, that Demyan will find it easier to accept my move back here when I start visiting regularly, maybe staying over, each time a little longer, and each time a little closer to the previous time.

I hope.

Demyan’s complicated and stubborn and cursed with mostly always being right.

Except with this.

Because it’s my life, and he’s wrong about Ilya.

“Demyan’s scared of losing us both,” I say, “and as I said earlier, it’s his problem if he doesn’t do anything to fix it.”

“Alina…”

“But you’re right, too. You need space to work, and as long as I can see you for now, I’ll stay at Demyan and Erin’s. If your grandfather’s lawyers ask, then I’m staying with my brother for added safety. But you know I’ll have to be back with you to uphold the will. And you also know even if that didn’t exist, this is where I want to be.”

He doesn’t move, barely breathes. I put a hand on his chest, and his heart is racing wildly.