62. Chapter 62

62

Clara

T he last thing I register before his mouth claims mine is the dangerous gleam in his eyes - the look of a man who's about to make me forget my own name.

I gasp into his mouth, my breath quickening as his hands trail hungrily over my curves. My fingers find his abs, tracing them as his rock-hard cock strains against his sweatpants, begging for my touch. He reaches behind me, his arm a warm, possessive band around my waist, the door's lock clicking shut with a muted finality.

I tease his neck with my lips, my tongue tracing the rapid beat of his pulse.

"Clara," he rumbles, his voice a low, primal sound that sends a shiver of anticipation through me. His cock twitches in my grasp, straining against his pants. He pulls them off, revealing his length, full and hard, in my hand.

My fingers tangle in the soft curls at his base, his warm skin sending sparks of pleasure up my arm. I caress him slowly, my strokes teasing, my breath warm against his throbbing cock.

"Fuck, you’re so wet, so ready for me." he grunts, his fingers sliding against my wetness, teasing my slick folds.

He circles my clit with a tenderness that makes my knees weak, my breath hitching as I gasp his name.

"Leonid," I moan, my hands gripping the counter for support. "Don't stop."

His fingers pick up speed, driving me wild, my body arching in a silent plea for more. I gasp and shudder.

His mouth claims mine, his kiss hungry and demanding, every touch a testament to his need. My body melts into his, every resistance fading as my core clenches around his fingers, each thrust driving me closer to the edge.

"Shh," he whispers against my skin, his finger fucking me deeper, his thumb finding my clit and circling in a relentless rhythm. "Don’t want to wake the kid, devochka .”

My orgasm crashes over me, a tidal wave of heat and pleasure, my walls clenching around his fingers as I shudder in his embrace. Pain and pleasure mingle as my teeth dig into his shoulder, my body straining to remain silent.

He spins me around, the mirror reflecting our tangled bodies, the steam of our passion clouding our vision. I catch a glimpse of him, his eyes dark and wild, his body tense with need. God, he looks ready to devour me, his eyes hot and hungry. I can practically feel the heat coming off him as he reaches for my hips with one hand, guiding me back towards him. With his other hand, he strokes his rock-hard cock, lining it up with my soaked entrance. As he gently pushes inside me, I moan softly, feeling every inch of him filling me up and stretching me out. He groans in response, enjoying the tightness and wetness of my body as he sinks deeper inside me.

My breath quickens as he slides deeper into me, my body arched back and quivering. The feel of him inside me is like a drug, addictive and heady, and I crave more. I push my hips back to meet his thrusts, feeling the veins of his cock pulse against my walls, his cockhead pressing against my sweet spot over and over.

"Fuck, Clara," he growls, the pace of his thrusts picking up as he buries himself to the hilt. The friction between us is electric, my body buzzing with pleasure as we move together.

Leonid’s voice is gruff with desire, but his hands are gentle as they grip my hips.

“ Devochka are you okay? This isn't hurting you?"

I press my lips together, nodding, and shaking my head wordlessly as he continues to move inside me. Every thrust is a careful symphony, his cock gliding against my slick walls with a delicious friction. It's almost like he's trying to protect me, to be as gentle as possible.

Every stroke of his cock sends a wave of pleasure and pain through my body, I try to stay quiet, biting my lip to stifle the moans that threaten to erupt from my throat.

In the mirror, Leonid watches me, his eyes filled with a mix of desire.

He groans, grinding his hips against mine as his hand slips between my thighs. His thumb circles my clit, teasing out another wave of pleasure. “Fuck, Clara. You’re such a good girl, devochka. ”

His breath is warm against my neck, his words making me throb around him. My body was on fire with every thrust, building towards an explosive climax. But I had to stay quiet, stifling my moans as I felt him fill me up and pulsate against my walls.

Leonid’s thrusts grow faster, rougher, but he’s controlling, his breaths become ragged, his grip on my hips tightening as he edges closer to his climax. I meet his intense gaze in the mirror, our eyes locked as we both approach climax.

"Yes...oh god..." I whisper, desperately trying to contain my moans and gasps, feeling my body begin to contract around him, he lets out a low, primal groan, his body shuddering as he explodes deep inside me.

“Feeling better?” I trace my finger along Leonid’s jawline, feeling the slight tension there. He’s been quiet since we got out of the shower, both of us wrapped in thick white robes, lying on his ridiculous bed that could fit half the Swiss guard.

Through the skylights, stars glitter against the backdrop of Alpine peaks. The dim bedside lamp casts shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles that somehow seem softer now.

He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Yes, devushka. ”

“Really? Because that vein in your forehead is doing the thing again.” I prop myself up on one elbow, studying him. Water droplets still cling to his chest where the robe gapes open.

“The thing?”

“The ‘I’m carrying the weight of the entire Russian underworld but pretending I’m fine’ thing.”

He snorts, but his fingers find my hip, thumb brushing over the spot where he knows my bruises are healing. “How are your ribs?”

“Deflecting much?” But I soften, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes. “They’re okay. Better after the hot shower.”

His hand slides up to my waist, steady and warm through the fluffy robe. “Good.”

I chew my lip, gathering courage. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Why aren’t you angry with me? About Elijah?” The question that’s been burning inside me finally escapes. His chest rises and falls under my palm, and I feel the slight hitch in his breathing.

He says nothing for a few seconds. Beneath my palm, his chest rises and falls slowly, as if he’s keeping something locked down. His muscles flex under my touch, then go still, like he’s fighting for control.

I start to pull back, but his hand catches my chin, tilting my face up to his.

His eyes are impossible to ignore in the soft lamplight, their intensity unnerving and magnetic all at once. His irises shift slightly, back and forth like he’s searching for something in me he doesn’t want to admit. They’re darker than Elijah’s but also framed by lashes so absurdly long and perfect that it’s downright unfair.

His thumb brushes my bottom lip, and I stop breathing altogether. For a second, I wonder what he’s about to say—but instead, his other hand flicks my forehead.

“Hey!” I jerk back, scowling. “What was that for?”

His lips twitch. “For thinking too much.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Because you didn’t know. And because you gave him everything I couldn’t.”

“But if I had—”

“Stop, devushka. You protected him. Kept him safe.” His hand slides to cup my cheek, and this time, when his eyes meet mine, they’re fierce with conviction. “Made him happy. You’re a good mother, Clara.”

His words sink into me, and something cracks. The weight I’ve been carrying, the constant need to prove I’m enough—it all hits at once. Not because I need his validation. But hearing it from him, from Elijah’s father…

Tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them.

Fuck.

“Are you okay, devushka ?” His thumb catches a tear.

I flinch, the confession burning in my throat. “I…” The words feel like glass. “I almost aborted him when I found out I was pregnant.”

His hand slides from my chin to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. He stays quiet, waiting.

“Stephan, he…” More tears fall, like a dam breaking. Years of pain, betrayal, and guilt pouring out. “He even offered to take me to the clinic. Said it would be easier.”

“I know, devushka .” His fingers still in my hair. His other hand grips the edge of his robe, knuckles white. Surface-calm, but I feel the tension radiating through him, see the muscle jumping in his jaw.

A sob escapes me, but it burns into rage. Stephan. The man who killed Jake. Who manipulated my father. Who tried to—

Leonid’s lips brush mine, barely a touch at first. Then his hand cups the back of my head, fingers tangling in my damp hair. He kisses my tears, one by one, working his way across my cheek until he reaches my mouth again. This time, when our lips meet, there’s nothing gentle about it. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer until I’m pressed against the solid warmth of his chest.

He kisses me deep and thorough, like he’s memorizing every detail, like he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words. I feel it in how his breath catches when I kiss him back, in the way his hand tightens in my hair, in how he slows down just to press his lips to the corner of my mouth, gentle again.

When we break apart, he keeps me close, his forehead resting against mine. His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I feel the slight tremor in his touch.

“Clara Caldwell,” he says, voice rough and low. “Let me take care of everything.”

I pull back, narrowing my eyes. “Everything meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning you stay here. Safe. With Elijah.” His hand slides down to my neck, thumb tracing my pulse point.

“While you go after Stephan alone?” I push up on my elbows. “Like hell.”

His hand drops from my neck. He sits up, shoulders rigid, staring out at the Swiss peaks through the skylight. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Because Jake was my brother. And I’ve been hunting his killer for fourteen years. You don’t get to fucking bench me now.”