Page 59

MIA

My head is spinning. My pulse is racing. I can feel the thump-thump-thump in my chest like a drum, loud, deafening.

And his words, ringing in my ears over and over again.

Marry me.

Be my wife.

I love you.

Yulian looks breathless. Like he’s been running down all those flights of stairs instead of riding in his cushy elevator. He’s ruffled, tie askew, hair a mess, but his eyes…

His eyes have never burned brighter.

“This is the part where you say yes,” he rumbles, his husky voice vibrating through me.

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, that means you’re going to say no.” His fists clench at his sides, not out of violence but something else, something softer. Hope. “And I really don’t want to hear that word coming from your lips right now.”

“That’s not— I mean, why? ” I take a trembling step towards him. “Why would you…?”

Why would you propose to me? Why would you ask me to be your wife—your real wife—when I’ve got nothing to offer you? No money, no power, no advantage?

Why would you want me, when nobody else ever has?

I have no idea how to even begin to say all of that. To cut this tangle of emotions out of my heart and pick out the threads, one by one, until they make sense.

But Yulian doesn’t wait for me to do it.

He takes a step towards me. His face is burning with a kind of urgency I’ve never seen on him before—never since the night of Brad’s botched wedding, when he was fighting to save both our lives.

Does this feel equally important to him? A matter of life and death?

“Because you’ve made a mess of me,” he answers.

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” he almost snarls. “You’ve fucked me up, Mia Winters.”

“Now I’m confused. Is this a proposal or are we fighti?—?”

“I used to think I didn’t have a heart anymore,” he interrupts.

“That it died that night, bleeding on that floor, the same way my family did. Cold, full of holes. Unfixable.” His gray gaze fixes on mine, burning like the ash of a fireplace.

“Then you came along, with your disrespect and your attitude and your fucking tow truck?—”

“I said I was sorry for that!”

“—and I could feel it. I could feel it beating again.” He takes my hand and places it over his chest. The strong ta-thump, ta-thump of his heart echoes through me.

“I’ve been killing myself trying to find a way to keep you without hurting you.

A way to save you from this life— my life. And from my choices, too.”

“Your choi?—?”

“I’m Bratva,” he cuts me off. “It will always be dangerous to be with me. Always, Mia.”

A small, watery smile twists my lips. “Haven’t I already signed up for that?”

“You have no idea what you signed up for.” His voice nearly cracks on those words. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll use the rest of my life to protect you from it. And from Brad. And from anything else in this world that so much as dares to fucking touch you.”

I’m so anxious I could burst. A small, cautious flame of happiness is starting to kindle at the center of my chest, and suddenly I’m terrified.

Because when’s the last time I’ve had that?

When’s the last time I’ve had hope?

“Today, someone told me that the best thing you can do for the people you love is to let them go.” He squeezes my hand tighter, his anxiety almost matching mine. “But I don’t want to let you go. Not for a goddamn second.”

I can’t remember the last time he spoke for so long. I’m afraid to break the spell—afraid I’ll say the wrong thing, that I’ll ruin it. Like I’ve ruined everything else in my life.

“Yulian…”

I want to say yes so bad. I’ve never wanted anything more.

But then, reality comes crashing down on me. “I have a son,” I rasp. “I can’t put that on you. I can’t ask you to be Eli’s father.”

“You won’t have to.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re my family— both of you.” He cups my face with his free hand. “You’re the family I never thought I’d find again. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Something keeps needling at me about the way he’s talking. Like we’re one step away from being whisked into nothingness, Eli and I. Like he’s speaking out of fear.

But then I remember his family. What happened to them, and how. The horrors he’s had to live with all his life.

Is it really such a wonder that this is how a man like Yulian loves? Strongly, fiercely, afraid to ever lose you?

Just like that, I stop hesitating.

Just like that, I know exactly what I want.

And for the first time in my life, I reach out and just take it.

“Say it again,” I whisper. “What you said before.”

“Marry me.”

“The other thing.”

Realization dawns in his eyes. “I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“ Again .”

His dimple flashes. “I fucking love you, Mia Winters.”

“Fuck.” I can’t take it anymore—it’s too much. Too many feelings bottled up inside me, begging for release. “Then show me.”

He doesn’t make me say it twice.

We crash into the elevator like teenagers, groping and kissing all the way up. It’s like breathing again after drowning—each kiss brings me back to life, lighting wildfires under my skin.

“ Blyat’, ” he curses between kisses. “You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“You still haven’t shown me you mean it.”

His eyes go dark and hooded. “Oh, I will.”

Suddenly, the floor disappears from under my feet. Yulian’s palms dig into my thighs, hoisting me up against the elevator wall, and then he’s on me again, kissing me like his life depends on it.

Like mine might, too.

His lips slide down my neck, teeth scraping against my pulse. I gasp for breath, clawing at his shoulders, his hair, his everything.

I’m distantly aware of my nails digging crescents into his scalp, but Yulian doesn’t seem put off by it. If anything, his kisses only grow wilder.

“Fucking hell, kotyonok. ”

He starts sucking bruises into my neck, biting into the curve of it. I can’t see straight—I can’t think. Heat is pooling low between my legs, robbing me of all reason.

“Please,” I gasp. “Touch me.”

He doesn’t. Not with his hands, at least. “Patience, kitten.” He rolls his hips against mine, so slow I could miss it if I wasn’t this keyed up. But I am, and the feeling of his clothed cock rubbing against me drives me fucking wild.

“Patience,” my ass.

When the doors slide open, we don’t even look where we’re going—he just carries me out of here and into his penthouse.

It takes us a couple of moments longer to realize it’s not his penthouse.

“ Blyat’, ” Yulian curses, glaring at the desk and bookshelves. “Wrong floor.”

I glance around. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else, the whole floor made up like a large, empty study. “Where are we?”

“My office.”

He starts heading back for the elevator, but I stop him. “No,” I whisper, tugging at the lapels of his jacket impatiently. “I need you now.”

A wicked glint appears in his eye. “What happened to patience?”

“It died. Funeral’s tomorrow.” I grab his face with both hands. “Now, fuck me.”

His gaze goes dark, liquid. “Have it your way.”

Then he throws me on the desk.

Okay, maybe “throw” isn’t the right word. It doesn’t hurt—his hand is at the back of my head, and the fall isn’t too steep—but fuck if it doesn’t feel like he just grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into a cave to have his way with me.

In other words: Hot. As. Fuck.

I stare up at him, my skirts bunched up at my waist, my breasts half-spilling from the plunging cleavage of this dress. Yulian, on the other hand, is still impeccably dressed.

Somehow, that offends me personally. “Take off your clothes.”

“You don’t give the orders here, kitten.” He gathers my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head. “That’s not the way this works.”

His free hand slides down my body, stopping to tease one stiff nipple through the fabric. The sensation is electric, and I let out a little cry, arching into his palm.

I can practically feel him smirking down at me. He pinches the nipple through the fabric of my dress, twisting until a sharp, delicious pain shoots down to my clit.

Fuck. I want him now. No—I need him.

My legs part wider, begging for his touch, but he doesn’t give it. Not yet.

Instead, he keeps playing with my breasts, his deft fingers making quick work of my dress. He pushes down a shoulder strap, then the other.

Just like that, cold air hits my naked nipples.

He stares down at my bare breasts, his eyes burning with want. With need .

He wants me. He wants me as badly as I want him.

Not just today—forever.

He bends his head to my chest, licking and sucking until I’m writhing on the desk beneath him.

Until I’m going insane with pleasure. My wrists are still caught in his grip, and fuck if it’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever done.

I can feel the wetness building between my legs, feel my inner muscles clenching on nothing.

If he doesn’t fuck me within the next five minutes, I might actually die.

Eventually, he releases me.

But not to take off his clothes.

I don’t even manage to exhale with relief before I feel his mouth on me. His wicked tongue, lashing through the drenched folds of my pussy. I can feel his teeth, his tongue, his lips— everywhere .

Every inch of skin he touches burns like fire, like lightning.

He lifts my legs onto his shoulders, pressing even closer. The new angle gives him better access, and he uses it, fucking me with his tongue.

I dig my nails into his hair and try desperately not to come.

But it’s useless. With Yulian, it always is. It isn’t long before I’m shaking on the desk, trembling with the force of an orgasm I’m still trying to stave off.

“Yul—!”

“Come for me, kitten.” He doesn’t stop, not for one goddamn second. “Come, or I won’t fuck you next.”

It’s a threat I can’t ignore.

When his mouth sinks into me again, I’m lost.

I come— hard.

“Good girl.”

The praise washes over me like touch. I tug his head down to mine and kiss him hard. I can taste myself on his lips, on his tongue. I can smell my scent on his beard.

“Asshole,” I gasp afterwards.

His hands slide around to cup my ass. “Is that a request?”

The thought of prying that particular door open sends a thrill of excitement down my spine. “Maybe someday,” I concede, trying not to sound too eager.

But my words only darken his gaze further. “Is that an answer, then?”

I fix him with a liquid stare. “Not yet.”

He understands what I want immediately. Like always. Like our bodies have learned to speak with each other of their own accord.

When he finally goes to unbutton his pants, I push myself up to a sitting position and reach for him. Then I rub his cock through his pants.

He bites his lip, letting out a harsh, heavy exhale. “ Blyat’. ”

I smirk.

And keep rubbing.

“Mia.” It’s the first time he’s called me by my name since we’ve started fucking on his desk, and it’s a warning. One I fully intend to ignore.

“Yes?”

“Behave.”

“Make me.”

He lets out a growl, grabbing my face and pulling me in for a deep, dirty kiss. “You asked for this.”

He pulls me off the desk and spins me around, bending me over it. The polished wood is cold under my breasts, the air hot and sticky against my bare back.

He presses himself up behind me, grinding his erection against the curve of my ass. His mouth finds my ear, his breath hot and damp against the shell. “Are you ready for me, kotyonok ?”

I arch into him, reaching back to grab his hair. “Always.”

“Always,” he repeats. There’s an emotion in his voice I can’t quite identify.

He pushes the tip of his cock against my slit, rubbing it through the folds. My wetness coats the head, easing his passage, and the thick length of his cock begins to fill me up.

I gasp at the sensation. Fuck. The stretch is almost unbearable.

And I fucking love it. The impossible girth, the pressure—all of it.

He slides out slowly, then thrusts in again, deeper this time.

I’m already close. My legs are trembling, my hands grasping for purchase on the desk. Yulian’s hand is firm on the back of my neck, pinning me in place, while the other is reaching around between my body and the desk, seeking my clit.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“Yulian,” I whine, too far gone for dignity. “I wanna see you.”

“Only if you have an answer for me.”

“Yes.”

Within seconds, he’s flipped me onto my back. His gaze is burning as he slides back into me with a single thrust.

“‘Yes’ what?” he demands.

“You— ah! —you know what.”

“Say it.” He starts fucking me in earnest, hard and fast. “Say you’ll be my wife.”

“Ahh—”

“Say you’ll marry me.”

“I— I …!”

“Say you’ll be mine.”

And it’s too much.

“Yes,” I moan. “Yes, I’ll marry you, I’ll be your wife, I’ll— ahh ? — !”

He thrusts into me again, the tip of his cock brushing up against that spot that makes my vision white out. Over and over, he hits it, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

“Say it again.”

“Yes.”

“ Again. ”

“Yes!” I scream. “I’ll be yours!”

He traps my mouth into a violent, filthy kiss. I can feel my orgasm tightening in my core, can feel his cock slamming into me, filling me with his release. Claiming me.

“Mine,” he snarls.

“Yours,” I breathe. “Only yours.”

‘Til death do us part.