33. Katya
Katya
Katya
Pain meds blur my thoughts, but they don’t touch the ache in my chest that has nothing to do with Pavel’s bullet.
I’ve been lying in Dmitri’s bed for two hours, pretending to rest while my mind circles everything that’s happened.
The FSB wants me dead.
My partner tried to execute me.
The only person offering protection is the man who kidnapped me and erased my memories.
Dmitri appears in the doorway carrying water and another pill. He’s changed out of his blood-stained shirt into dark jeans and nothing else, and the sight of his bare chest makes my pulse skip despite everything.
“Time for your medication.”
“I’m fine,” I croak out.
“You’re not fine. You were shot six hours ago.” He sits on the edge of the bed, close enough that I can smell his familiar scent, and it comforts me. “Take the pill.”
I swallow it without argument because fighting takes energy I don’t have. And then the room goes quiet, and the silence eats at us until he speaks again.
“How are you feeling? Really?”
I sputter my lips and reply, “Like my entire world just exploded for the second time in two months.”
Dmitri’s eyes drop to the floor. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”
“Which part? Kidnapping me, manipulating my memories, or being the only person willing to keep me alive?”
“All of it. None of it. I don’t know anymore.”
He lets out a sigh and drags his hands through his hair as his shoulders slump, and I have to look away from him, too.
This isn’t the arrogant, controlling man who orchestrated my psychological reconstruction. This is someone genuinely shaken by seeing me hurt.
Watching him struggle with guilt he can’t fix makes something twist in my chest.
For weeks, I was the one confused and clinging to him for stability. Now he’s the one unraveling, and I’m the one who knows what we need.
We’re about to go to war with people who have government resources and unlimited funding. We’ll be targets for the foreseeable future.
But right now, at this moment, we have privacy and safety and each other.
I don’t want regret or apologies. I don’t want to analyze how fucked up this is.
I want to choose him. Not as his victim or prisoner, but as a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.
I peer up at him again and prompt, “Dmitri?”
“Yeah?”
“Come here.”
He goes very still, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. When his eyes meet mine again, there’s heat there that wasn’t present a moment ago.
He knows what I’m asking him for.
“You need to rest.”
I let out a chuckle. “I need you to stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”
He eyes me like he’s trying to decode my motivations. “Katya, you’ve been through hell today. You should sleep.”
“I’ve been through hell for two months. Sleep hasn’t fixed anything yet.”
He shakes his head and huffs out, “What do you want from me, Katya?”
What do I want from the man who destroyed my life and rebuilt it into something unrecognizable? I’m not certain I know the answer.
“Stop hovering like I’ll break,” I snap. “Touch me like I’m yours.”
“You are something I’m afraid to break.”
“Why?”
“Because losing you once nearly killed me. Seeing you bleeding in Anya’s arms tonight finished the job.”
The pain that echoes behind every syllable nearly strangles me, and I have to force out, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t know that.” He shakes his head. “Tomorrow, you might remember that I’m the enemy and decide protecting yourself is more important than whatever this is between us.”
“This conversation is depressing as hell. Can we talk about something else?”
“Such as?”
I reach out with my uninjured arm and trace the scar that runs along his ribs. “Such as how you got this.”
His eyes follow my touch, and his Adam’s apple bobs again. “Knife fight when I was nineteen. The other guy aimed better than I gave him credit for.”
“And this one?” My fingers find another mark near his collarbone, but I don’t break contact as I move to it.
“Bullet. Three years ago, during a territory dispute that got out of hand.”
“You’ve lived a violent life.”
“Violence finds people in my business whether they go looking for it or not.”
I continue mapping the evidence of his dangerous existence while he watches my every move. When my fingers trace a particularly jagged scar on his shoulder, he catches my wrist.
“What about you? Any scars I haven’t discovered yet?”
“A few. Occupational hazards of intelligence work.”
“Show me.”
The request arouses me even more than touching him has. “That would require taking off my clothes.”
“I’m aware.”
“But you just?—”
“I’m not planning to throw you around the room. I just want to see you. All of you.”
His voice has dropped to that low, husky tone that makes my skin flush with want. And then he leans down and kisses me like he’s afraid I might disappear if he’s too demanding.
I part my lips and let him explore my mouth with a tenderness that makes my heart squeeze.
“Careful,” he murmurs when I try to pull him closer.
“I’ll be careful. You just focus on making me forget everything except how much I want you.”
His mouth covers mine slowly at first, testing. When I tug his hair and don’t let go, he groans and finally gives in.
He helps me out of my oversized T-shirt, but when his hands find the clasp of my bra, he pauses.
“Tell me if anything hurts.”
The corner of my mouth quirks up as I respond, “The only thing that hurts is how slowly you’re moving.”
He removes my bra and stares down at my bare chest like he’s seeing me for the first time. When his mouth finds my nipple, I arch into him despite the pull of stitches.
“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes against my skin.
I can’t stop the giggle that erupts from my mouth. “Perfect women don’t survive assassination attempts and come back asking for more.”
His hands roam over my exposed skin while I work at his belt with my good hand. The metal buckle gives me trouble, and when I grumble, he offers, “Let me help.”
He peels his clothes off, never looking away from me. We’re naked now except for my panties and the bandages covering my shoulder.
He slips his thumbs in the waistband of my underwear and slides them down my legs, pressing soft kisses to my hip bones as he goes. When I’m bare, he settles between my legs, dragging his tongue along my inner thigh and making me whimper from the anticipation.
“I want to taste every inch of you,” he tells me, his breath hot against my skin.
“Dmitri, please.”
“Please what?”
“Stop teasing me and fuck me with your tongue.”
Dmitri chuckles before his tongue finds my center, and the sensation makes me suck in a gasp and grip the sheets with my good hand.
He licks through my folds with broad strokes that build pleasure, and I moan with every touch.
“You taste incredible,” he mumbles between laps. “Like fucking perfection.”
When he focuses on my clit with gentle suction, I buck against his mouth and barely contain a scream. He holds my hips steady while he works me, alternating between soft licks and firm pressure that has me trembling on the edge.
“I’m close,” I pant.
“Not yet. I want to watch you.”
He slides two fingers inside me while his tongue continues swiping over my most sensitive spot. The dual sensation makes stars explode behind my eyelids as he stretches me and fills me, but he pulls back just before I tumble over the edge.
“You’re so tight,” he growls. “So wet and ready for me.”
“Please,” I beg. “I need to come.”
“Then come for me. Let me feel you.”
He curls his fingers inside me and finds that spot that makes my vision go white. Combined with the relentless pressure of his tongue, it pushes me into a climax that tears through me like lightning.
I scream his name as my body convulses around his fingers, and he works me through the aftershocks, gentling his touch as I come down from the high. When the last tremor fades, he moves up my body to capture my mouth in a kiss that tastes like my arousal.
“Beautiful,” he breathes against my lips. “Absolutely beautiful.”
I can feel how hard he is against my thigh, and I reach down to wrap my hand around his length. He groans and thrusts into my grip.
“I want to come inside you,” he protests.
“Then stop waiting and take what you want.”
He lines himself up with my entrance and slides into me, agonizingly slow. When he’s fully seated, I tilt my hips up, inching him in even more.
“Oh, God. You feel incredible,” he pants. “Like you were made for me.”
“Maybe I was.”
He starts moving, but he keeps his pace gentle, careful not to hurt me. I wrap my legs around his waist and urge him deeper.
“I won’t break,” I tell him. “I need more.”
He goes still and blinks as his jaw ticks. “I can’t lose you again.”
“You won’t,” I assure him, cupping his face. “I’m right here, choosing to be here with you.”
That seems to be what he needs to hear. His pace increases, and he drives into me, just as he has every time we’ve been together. Each thrust hits that perfect spot inside me, building another climax.
“Touch yourself,” he commands. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
I reach between us and circle my clit while he continues pounding into me. The added stimulation pushes me toward the edge again.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “Come for me, kotyonok.”
And I do. I come apart around him with a cry that reverberates through the room as my inner muscles clench rhythmically around his length. The pulsing of my orgasm pushes him over the edge, and he buries his face in my neck and groans my name as he spills inside me with hard thrusts and grunts.
“Are you okay?” he asks between ragged breaths as we come down from our highs. “Did I hurt you?”
I press a kiss to his throat, tasting salt on his skin. “I’m perfect. That was exactly what I needed.”
He tightens his arms around me possessively. “I want more than one night, Katya. I meant what I said. I can’t lose you again.”
“Wanting and getting are different things when people are trying to kill you,” I reply as I nuzzle against him.
“Then we make sure they fail.”
I run my fingertips along his chest while I consider how this will work. How we’ll make a fairytale out of this morally ambiguous beginning.
Somehow, I can picture it.
I can picture us together, when all of this is through, in our happily ever after.
Tomorrow, we’ll start planning how to eliminate Viktor’s network. Tomorrow, we’ll face the reality of building something real out of the wreckage of lies and manipulation.
But tonight, we’re just two people who decided that whatever brought us together was worth fighting for.
He kisses the top of my head, and I drift toward sleep, feeling safer than I have since this nightmare started.
Outside, Viktor is probably planning his next move, but tomorrow, we’ll become hunters instead of prey.