Chapter 48
LYRA
The elevator doors at Julian’s place—our place—have barely closed before his mouth claims mine.
I laugh against his lips. My right hand is braced on the hard plane of his chest. “Can we get upstairs first?”
He smiles against my lips as his palm slides down to rest possessively over the small curve of my belly. “My wife-to-be, carrying my child. Mine.”
The word wife sends a shiver racing through me. The ring on my finger feels perfect.
I still can’t believe it’s real.
The doors open and we stumble into the penthouse, half kissing, half laughing, the lights of the city glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Julian turns me and gently pushes me up against the wall. He’s always so careful with me.
“God, Lyra,” he breathes, his forehead resting against mine. “You said yes.”
“I did. And I’ll say it a thousand times more.” I reach up and weave my fingers through his hair. “I’d say it again right now if you asked.”
He smiles, that rare, devastating Volkov smile that still undoes me. He kisses me deeply, my pussy clenching. I feel like I’m going to melt.
“Marry me.”
“Yes.”
“Marry me, Lyra Thibodeaux.”
“Yes, Julian Volkov. I will marry you.”
His hands move around to the zipper of my dress. He draws it down with care, and the dress falls, the fabric pooling at my feet in a whisper of cream silk. I stand before him in nothing but lace panties and the ring.
I don’t feel like I’m taking up too much space. I never feel like that anymore—especially not with the man before me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says with reverence. “Every time I look at you, I’m in awe.”
I tug at his bow tie and loosen it, my fingers trembling with anticipation.
“Then stop looking and touch me.”
He does. His big, strong hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. They harden instantly, and I gasp. Then he drops to his knees and presses open-mouthed kisses along the swell of my stomach.
“I love you,” he whispers against my skin. “I love you carrying our baby. I love every goddamn inch of you. Tonight and every night to come.”
“Julian…” My throat is suddenly tight with emotion, my voice cracking just a little.
He hooks his fingers into my panties and slides them down my legs. Then his mouth is on me, hot, insistent, and perfect. My head falls back against the wall with a soft thud.
He licks me slowly at first, then faster, inserting two fingers inside and curling in the perfect way he knows by heart. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensation of him moving inside of me, of his tongue flat against my clit.
The first orgasm builds quickly. I slip my hands into his hair and hold him there, moaning and sighing with total pleasure. The heat in my belly coils tight and then snaps. I come with a cry, my thighs trembling around his shoulders.
“I love you,” I gasp as the waves fade, my chest heaving. “God, I love you.”
He stands and wraps his arms around my waist, then lifts me in that effortless way I love. As he carries me into the bedroom, a big, silly smile spreads across my face.
He lays me down carefully on the bed. I watch with hunger as he strips off his clothes, revealing every hard, familiar line, every scar, every tattoo. Just like every time I have the distinct pleasure of seeing him naked, my eyes linger on the North Star on his chest.
This time, however, he says something about it.
He taps on the center of the star. “You. You and our child. And every child to come. My North Star. Everything leads back to you.”
Tears prick my eyes. I don’t know what to say.
Thankfully, he doesn’t wait for a response. He moves onto the bed with feline grace, settling between my thighs, thick and hard. He presses against me, then pauses, his gunmetal eyes locked onto mine.
“Look at me, love.”
His eyes are dark with want, yet so tender that my heart aches.
“I love you,” he says, and it’s as if he’s looking straight into my soul. Then he slides into me in one slow, deep thrust that steals my breath. I moan as he pushes into me. When he’s buried, he leans in and kisses me again. “I love you so much, it scares me.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, my fingernails digging into his back. “Don’t be scared. Just love me harder.”
He groans low in his throat, hips rolling in a steady rhythm that drives me higher and higher with every full stroke. I focus on the flexing and tensing of his muscles, on the way he fills me up in the best way possible.
I move my hands up and down, my fingertips trailing along his muscles. Another orgasm builds, and I squeeze my eyes shut, opening them just a bit to glance down and watch his thickness drive into me again and again.
The orgasm rolls through me like slow thunder. I arch beneath him, crying out, clenching around his cock as pleasure lights up every nerve.
“Julian… yes, just like that. I love you. I love you so much.”
He slows down but doesn’t stop, kissing me through the aftershocks.
When I can breathe again, I push at his chest until he rolls onto his back. Then I straddle him and take him back inside, my hands braced on his chest.
“My turn.” I whisper it with a wicked smile. Then I rock slowly, then faster, chasing a third orgasm.
Julian’s hands grip my hips, guiding me in just the way I want, the way I need. “That’s it. Take what you need. You’re so goddamn perfect like this. So wet, so tight, so mine.”
I ride him with total abandon. Our breathing turns ragged and he sits up suddenly, arms wrapping tight around me, mouth latching onto a nipple as he thrusts up to meet every roll of my hips.
“I’m close again,” I pant. “So close. Julian, come with me. Please. I want to feel you come inside me while I—”
“Yes,” he growls. “Together. Look at me, Lyra.”
Our eyes lock, the eye contact just what it takes to cause the third orgasm to crash over me. I shatter, body clenching tight around him in pulsing waves. Julian follows seconds later, burying himself deep with a feral groan, pulsing hot inside of me.
“I love you. Fuck, I love you.”
We collapse together, sweaty and trembling, his arms tight around me, my face pressed to the damp curve of his neck. For a long moment, there is only the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the city far below.
He brushes damp strands of hair from my forehead and kisses my temple.
“Three times,” he mutters, a smile threading through the words. “Greedy girl.”
I laugh softly and nuzzle closer, the ring catching the light as I rest my hand on his chest. “You’re the one who proposed. This is your fault.”
“Best decision I ever made.” His hand finds my stomach. It’s warm and protective over the small curve. “My future wife. Mother of my child. The only woman I’ve ever needed.”
I lift my head, eyes shining as I meet his gaze. “I love you, Julian Volkov. Every day until I die. And even after that.”
He kisses me slowly, reverently.
“Then I guess we have forever, Mrs. Volkov-to-be.”
Outside, the New York night keeps spinning.
Inside, the world narrows to this bed, this man, this love—fierce and filthy, and finally, beautifully permanent.