Page 99 of Scarlet Vows

I pressmy mouth to his once more, tracing the line of them with the tip of my tongue. His groan is the dessert I ache for, but he resists a moment longer.

Then something changes. His body surges into me, and he takes control, kissing me back, deep and hard and giving me exactly what I crave.

There are a million reasons why I did this.

It may be the last chance I have to kiss him before Demyan decides to rush back.

I want him to think of me before he does something stupid.

I need to test my guilt.

See what it is I want after all.

Scratch an itch.

Start my own inner war.

The list goes on and on.

But there’s only one answer. One truth.

I want him desperately. To the point that common sense is trampled down to nothing, that the urge overwhelms.

The kiss explodes inside me, and every single cell lightsup as I kiss him back, eager for more. Our tongues dance, and he presses hard against me, hard being the operative word. He’s big, erect, and still growing. Blood pools in my pussy, making me throb and ache and grind up against him.

I’m sick of being lonely. I’m sick of guilt and pain and sadness. The only thing I want to feel is pleasure, and this man can give it to me.

Ilya’s hands slide down my back to my ass, and he trails kisses to my throat, his lips closing on my madly throbbing pulse. One of his hands comes all the way back up to coil in my hair, and then he stops, pulling me back, raising his head.

His brown eyes are full of flaming desire, and his cock twitches as it strains against his trousers against me. He drops his gaze to my mouth for the longest time, then he once more meets my gaze.

He looks so intense that I quiver.

“Are you sure,malyshka?” He searches my face, looking for something. “Are you sure you want this?”

Always the fucking gentleman. Always putting me first. It’s such a turn-on that I can barely think. My heart pounds even harder, and I try to form words.

I nod.

And try to kiss him to show him I mean yes, but he stops me.

“Use your words, Alina.”

I swallow hard. “Yes, I want this.” But it’s more than that. “I need this.”

I need this to allow myself to move on. It’s the last barrier.

And I have to trust that if it fails, if it bombs, then we can recover as friends. If it works, we can decide how to move on, keep that part of what makes us click, and continue.

I have to trust.

Ilya isn’t going to abandon me if I realize that this is amistake, that I’m nowhere near ready. He’ll be there. He’s always been there. He’s my rock, the person I turn to time and time again. We’ve changed, yes, but not in our fundamental cores.

I can’t help what’s happened in my life, and neither can he. But it is what it is, and the only thing keeping me on this side of everything isn’t him. It isn’t Max or Max’s ghost. Max would be cheering me on to move on with the right man after his demise. I do know that.

No, the only thing in the way is me.

Me.