She’s only inches from me. The covers puddle around her waist. I can see the peaks of her breasts. Her nipples poke through the fabric.
I reach out on instinct and run my fingers over them. She shudders at my feather light touch but doesn’t move.
“You’re focused on the wrong thing,” I tell her. “True, I didn’t have a childhood. But now, I have everything.”
“And you think it was a worthy trade?”
“I was prepared for my life,” I explain. “I was ready. And when shit blows up in my face, I know how to handle it.”
“Unlike me.”
I shrug. “You weren’t prepared.”
“I doubt it would have made a difference,” she says, sounding mildly disappointed. “I’m not like you, Leo. I’m not like Ariel, either, for that matter.”
“Ariel wasn’t always the weapon she is today, you know."
“Is that supposed to be inspiring? Is that supposed to encourage me to keep going?”
“No. Fear of death should be encouragement enough."
She shoots me an annoyed look. “Is this your way of comforting me? Because it’s not working.”
I smile sadly. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not the comforting type. You’ll get hard truths from me and nothing else.”
She pops up on her elbow and turns to face me. It’s the first time in a while she doesn’t seem skittish in my presence. Her eyes graze over my body and then they dip down for a moment.
“That’s the only hard thing I’ll get from you, huh?” she asks cheekily.
As if in answer, my erection pushes against the sheet.
Her eyes widen. When they work their way slowly up my body back to mine, I know what she wants.
No more pretending. No more fighting.
I push the sheet off her and slide her t-shirt up over her hips. When I reach her panties, her legs part instinctively. I push my fingers inside the fabric and find her slit.
I knew she was turned on, but I didn't expect her to be as wet as she is. My fingers slide around in her juices, making it easier for me to touch her, play with her lips, and coax her open.
She sinks into the pillow, and I slide on top of her. I want to see her face as I touch her. It’s been too long. I can’t remember the last time I touched her like this—like we had all the time in the world. Like our enemies would wait.
When I sink two fingers into her, she shudders. Her eyes close, and her legs open even wider.
“Kiss me,” she whispers.
I lean in and press my lips to her neck first. I kiss a line up her throat and around her jaw. When I finally reach her lips, she clings to my face and holds me there.
I slide my tongue into her mouth, exploring her while my thumb rubs her clit. She breaks the kiss and moans into my mouth when I find the perfect spot. Her body is practically humming, the orgasm revving up already.
When she’s right on the edge of coming, I pull back. “Not like that,” I say to her shocked expression. “You’re only going to come with my cock inside you.”
I strip off my boxers as she wriggles out of her panties and shirt. When we’re both naked, she reaches for me and wraps her hand around the base of my dick.
“This is going to be a long fucking night,” I warn her.
Her answer is to lean forward and slide her tongue from my balls all the way up to the head of my cock.
I tip my head back and breathe deeply, giving myself over to the moment. Willow starts at the head, taking me in shallow thrusts before she swallows me whole. I curl my fingers in her hair and press her against me. Until I feel my cock hit the back of her throat.
I pull out to allow her a moment’s breath and then I guide myself in again. I’m warming her up, easing her into it. Once she’s ready, I gather her hair into one hand and start fucking her pretty little mouth.
She’s got one hand on my hip, but the other one is working between her legs.
When I pull out, she collapses on the bed. She’s breathing hard, her chest rising and falling wildly. But her eyes never leave mine.
Finally, she’s admitting what she wants. I’m not going to let her get off easy.
I crawl over her and take her nipple in my mouth. She throws her arms over her head and arches her back, giving herself to me.
But it isn’t enough.
I need all of her.
I press a knee to knock her thighs apart, then line up and bury myself inside of her. Her heels lock around my back as I sink all the way into her until our hips are flush.
“Yes,” she gasps.
I pull out just far enough to slam into her again. Her body shakes with the force of it.
We’re both already teetering on the edge, desperate for release. The road has been paved, so all that’s left is to drive into her and hold on for the ride.
I roll my thumbs over her nipples and nibble at the soft flesh of her breasts as she writhes beneath me, begging to come.
Then her moans turn to screams as her body clenches around my cock. And not a minute too soon, because I empty inside her seconds later.
We roll to opposite sides of the bed, both spent and exhausted. Drops of perspiration cling to her chest. It’s impossible to know if it’s hers or mine. I lean in and kiss them away anyway.
She strums her fingers through my hair lazily.
When I’m done, I lie back, knowing I’m going to sleep well tonight. At least as well as it’s possible for me to sleep.
“Pasha.” She says it so softly I almost don’t hear her.
“Huh?”
“His name. Our son’s name,” she offers awkwardly. “It’s Pasha.”
I turn to her but don’t say anything. Pasha is a Russian derivative of Pavel. Which means…
“I named him after your brother,” she confirms. “Pasha Leonardo Solovev.”
“Leonardo?” I repeat.
A faint blush creeps up her cheeks. “After you.”
I nod. The tightness in my chest is strange and inexplicable. I don’t know what to call it or what to do with it. But it’s not a bad feeling. Not entirely, at least.
Willow takes a deep breath as though a load has been lifted off her mind. But I sense a new worry clinging to her. Or maybe it’s not new at all. Maybe it’s always been there, hiding behind bravado.
“It feels nice to say his name out loud,” she whispers. “I’ve avoided it for so long.”
“Why?”
“Because it hurts to say. It hurts to be separated from him.”
“You know you have the power to change that, right?” I remind her.
She looks me in the eye. “I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of this life. Of what it will do to him.”
“This life will find him either way,” I tell her. “The same way it found you. And you weren’t prepared. Do you want the same for Pasha?”
She sighs. “Stop talking sense—it’s confusing me.”
I relent. This battle between us will not be solved tonight. She still needs time to accept. To understand.
“What does he look like?” I ask instead.
She smiles. It’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen on her in weeks. Maybe the first one I’ve seen since I met her in that club almost two years ago.
“He looks like you, Leo,” she says softly. “Just like you.”
I chuckle. “I bet that pissed you off.”
“You would think so, but no. It comforted me, actually. I felt like I had a part of you with me.”