The moment his weight sinks into the mattress next to me, I turn towards him and curl myself into the crook of his arm. I can tell he’s surprised—we haven’t done this since before I was taken. He tenses and I wonder if he’s going to push me away.
Then he relaxes, curls his arm around me, and gives me his warmth.
“It was a pretty funeral,” I tell him, the darkness making it easier for me to speak. “She would have liked it.”
“She wouldn’t have cared either way,” Leo corrects. His voice is raspy, his breath tinged with alcohol. “But I’m glad you thought so.”
“Do you think about death a lot?” I ask.
“Not really.”
“But you see it all the time, in a way not many people do. Up close and personal.”
“Exactly,” he says. “I see enough of it that I don’t want to spend the rest of my time thinking about it. In any case, death doesn’t scare me.”
The funny thing is, I believe him. If there’s one man alive that Death itself is probably terrified of, it’s Leo Solovev.
“Well, it scares me,” I whisper.
“Why?” he asks. “Death has to be better than life.”
I glance up at him. For a man who is masculinity personified, he has such long, pretty eyelashes. They brush across his cheeks as he blinks.
“Has anyone ever told you you have a very morbid view of existence?”
“Occupational hazard.” He shrugs and then turns to me. “You seem to be doing better, by the way.”
I nod, hoping that my face gives nothing away. I don’t want him to see something in my expression and stop my plan before I can even set it in motion.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I say mildly. “I’m just trying to survive. For Pasha.”
“I will get him back, Willow. I know that won’t stop you from worrying. But trust that I will keep him safe.”
I do trust Leo. But he won’t believe that once I leave.
I’m not even anxious about walking into Belov’s territory. I’m anxious about leaving Leo. I’m worried that he’ll think I doubted him. Betrayed him.
And I’m worried I won’t make it out alive.
It makes me want to say things to Leo that I’ve never had the courage to say before. The irony is that if I say them now, he’ll suspect something. He’ll know that what I’m really saying is goodbye. So I shut my mouth and cling to the feeling of being in his arms and try to let that be enough of a farewell to last me through the hell I’m about to wade into.
“When all this is over,” I whisper to him, falling back into our game of pretend, “I want to visit Europe. I’ve never been before.”
“I’ll take you,” he says simply.
“Will you have the time?”
“I’ll make the time.”
I smile so hard it makes me want to cry. Because I know he’s playing pretend, too. I rest my hand on his chest and stroke back and forth for a while.
His muscles are as hard as they look. I support myself on one elbow as I look down on him, admiring the contours of his body. All this time and I’ve never stopped thinking that he is the most beautiful men ever to walk this planet.
“Do you think this will ever be over?” I ask. “I’ve only been a part of it for a fraction of the time and it still feels like forever. I can’t imagine how it must be for you.”
“It does feel like forever,” he admits. “But you learn to cope.”
“How?”
“Just keep going.”
“You make that sound so simple.” I shake my head. “I wish I could be more like you.”
He looks at me with his intense, confident gaze, and I imagine that for a man like Leo, enduring is just par for the course. He’s the kind of man who can make the oceans move if he chooses to.
But me? I’ve always moved with the waves. Let the current lead me.
Starting tomorrow, that’s going to change.
But tonight, I’m still playing pretend.
I rest my hand against his face and lean in to press my lips to his. I’m not sure if he knows I need the distraction or if he needs it just as badly. But his kiss is deep and reassuring. And so I let myself be comforted.
I slide onto his body, straddling him. I sit up and pull my t-shirt over my head in one move, flinging it to the floor beside the bed.
Leo runs his hands up my sides, tightening around my waist. His thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts before his warm, rough hands palm me. My nipples pebble under his touch.
Then his hands slip down my body. I lean forward, our bodies pressed together inch for inch. I kiss his neck, his chest, his abs. I roam his body and just like always, it takes my breath away.
I go further south, tracing over his tattoos and the sharp-sloping V of his lower abs, until I reach the hard length of his cock. He springs to life in my hand.
I circle his shaft with my fingers and massage him gently. As I do, I move lower and run my tongue over his balls.
He lets out a contented sigh. I suck on one ball and then the other while my hand pumps at his cock. As his groans deepen and multiply, I run my tongue up his shaft. I linger at the tip, sucking on his head.
I take my time. I let him fill my mouth slowly until I’m able to welcome him deep into the back of my throat. His hand curls in the hair at the back of my head, but it just rests there gently. He lets me control the speed and depth. I take him to his base three times before I finally pull out, unable to ignore the throbbing in my pussy any longer.
I climb on top of him and press his cock against my opening. With my hands planted on his chest, I slide down onto him. I stretch around him slowly, taking his length inside in one smooth move.
“Fuck,” I moan, my eyes rolling back in my head. We’ve gone to bed God only knows how many times now, and every time still feels as good as the first.
Leo grabs my hips, and I start to grind up and down on his cock. His eyes are dark and focused. He watches me move on him with singular focus, but I feel too good to be self-conscious. I’m lost in it already. I roll my hips, pleasure zinging through me with every movement. Heat pools low in my belly and my body begins to tremble.
“Leo,” I breathe. I say his name like a prayer. Like a plea. “Leo…”
“Come for me, kukolka,” he says.
With that, my body gives in to the pleasure. I clench my thighs around him and arch my back. I cry out as I spasm around him so many times that I start to wonder if this orgasm will ever end. I’m lost in a haze of lust and need and sensation, and a warmer, deeper emotion that swims beneath all of that. I grind against him until I have nothing left.
When I collapse on his chest, Leo wraps his arms around me and rolls me onto my back.
I’m sure I’m completely spent, but as usual, Leo knows better. He drapes my legs over his shoulders and wrings more pleasure out of me. His thumb circles my center, and before I’ve fully come down from the last orgasm, I’m crying out again.
This time, Leo falls with me.
Afterwards, we lie together in silence, staring at the ceiling and immersed in our own thoughts. We wait just long enough to catch our breath, and then we fuck again.
Four times that night, I lose myself to orgasm. Four times, he comes, marking me in every possible way. I fall asleep naked on top of him, exhausted and spent.