Page 75 of Under His Control

My hands tangle in her hair as I push up into her one last time—a brutal, perfect thrust—and she shatters again, crying out as she clenches tight around me. Her pleasure trips mine like a land mine, and I come hard, groaning her name into the sweat-damp hollow of her neck as I drain into her.

We collapse into each other, tangled and slick, gasping in the heavy silence that follows.

She shifts slightly, her body still molded to mine, and I hold her there, my arms tight around her. Her head rests on my chest, right above my heart.

Neither of us says anything for a while. Our breath slows. The city bustles busily below us, but in here, we’ve carved out something intimate. Private. Untouchable.

“I needed that,” she says softly, fingers trailing absently over my shoulder.

“I know,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. “So did I.”

She lifts her head, and I study the flush still high in her cheeks, the softness in her eyes. There’s a fragility there I rarely see in her—but I don’t call attention to it. I just reach up and brush my knuckles gently down her cheek.

“I don’t like that you’re still afraid,” I admit, voice low.

Her lips press into a thin line. “I know the lock is solid. I know the cards were replaced. But I can’t help it. I just need the extra layer. Just in case.”

I nod slowly. “Then you lock it. Every time.”

Her brow furrows. “Does that bother you?”

“It bothers me that you’re scared,” I answer honestly.

She swallows hard, clearly trying not to let that hit her too deeply, but I see the shine in her eyes. She leans in and presses her lips to mine.

“Thank you.”

I pull her close and lift her off my lap, carrying her effortlessly toward the bathroom without needing to ask if she wants a bath. I already know the answer.

The steam rises quickly as I run the water. She slides in with a satisfied sigh, sinking into the enveloping heat. I join her, and she curls into me again, her body small against mine.

“I hate not knowing where my brother is,” she says suddenly.

I tighten my grip, just a little. “We’ll find him.”

She nods slowly. “I know. It’s just…I feel like I finally have something good, but I’m scared my past is going to take it all away.”

“It won’t,” I say, with more certainty than I feel. “Not while I’m breathing.”

She tilts her head back. “Promise?”

I lean in, kiss her forehead, and answer quietly.

“Promise.”

CHAPTER 29

TAYLOR

We’re tangled in the sheets, my cheek resting on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my spine like he’s sketching me from memory.

I should feel peaceful.

Instead, I’m lying here in the dark doing a mental inventory of every squishy bit he just kissed, touched, or outright worshipped. And somehow, the little gremlin in my head is still unsure of Anatoly’s attraction to me.

God, I hate that voice. She sounds like every size-zero salesgirl who’s ever side-eyed me in a fitting room.

Anatoly shifts, tightening his arm around my waist like he knows I’m about to bolt emotionally.