Chapter 51

51

One month later.

Abe placed a kiss on Freya’s forehead as she stirred. She burrowed closer, her body warm against his skin. Her touch still sent sparks through him, even after all they’d shared.

They had checked into the Sorrisniva Igloo Hotel two nights ago. One of the northernmost ice hotels in the world and rebuilt every winter with a new design. He and Freya had been some of the first new season guests. He’d watched her eyes light up when they’d arrived, her wonder at the crystalline architecture making his heart swell.

The distance from home had given them both space to center themselves and while he mourned the loss of Freya’s archive for her sake, there was no denying the weight that had lifted from their shoulders when she had deleted the archive and all the fuckery it contained.

His muscles tensed at the fresh memories. Korolov had vanished. No one had seen him since the helicopter had taken off. A flight plan had been lodged but never completed, as if the help had disappeared into thin air. But men like Korolov didn’t just disappear. They went to ground, regrouped, and came back fighting.

He pulled Freya closer. When Korolov surfaced again, he’d be ready. They all would.

Wrapped in plump thermal comforters and reindeer hides, surrounded by soft, down-filled pillows in their king-sized bed, he held Freya close, savoring each breath, each moment of peace.

He’d booked the holiday as a gift for her, a chance for her to heal away from the turmoil of the recent events. But it was also his gift to himself—uninterrupted time with the woman who had transformed his world. Every moment they shared here felt like reclaiming something precious that Korolov had almost stolen from them.

Mine.

The bedside lamp cast everything in gentle blue, turning her skin to moonlight. His fingertips drifting over the slope of her shoulder, learning every detail. Her skin pebbled under his touch and she sighed happily.

Time seemed to slow in moments like these. He wanted to memorize everything—the weight of her head on his chest, the way her fingers curled against his ribs, the soft whisper of sheets as she shifted closer. Six weeks ago, he’d almost lost this. Lost her. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He tightened his arms around her.

“You’re thinking too loud,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

“I am?”

“Uh-huh.” She opened her eyes and his pulse skipped.

Her palm slid to his jaw. “Morning, handsome.”

“Morning, Duchess.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

He buried his nose in her hair and breathed her in, her scent loosening all the knots inside him. Freya was all he needed.

For years he’d kept his heart locked away, telling himself it was safer that way. Smarter. But all that protection had left him empty. And it hadn’t brought back the men he’d lost.

With Freya, he understood what he’d been missing. The simple pleasures of sharing morning coffee, the comfort of going home to someone you loved after a long day.

He kissed the soft skin just below her ear and she moaned her pleasure.

Meeting Freya had taught him to live his life to the fullest and, in doing so, honor those he’d lost.

She ran her fingers over the newest scar, then along the line where the Archer’s medic had stitched him back together. “How is it this morning?”

“All the better for waking up next to you.”

The healing wounds meant desk duty for now, but with Freya pressed against him, he couldn’t care less. Her fingers twined with his, her smile stealing his breath.

“Flatterer.” Mischief was bright in her eyes.

“Working on it.” His voice roughened with want.

“Some guys would take a bullet for the woman they love. You took two.” She pressed her lips to his shoulder.

“What can I say?” His laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m an overachiever.”

“Yes.” Her voice was breathy as he wrapped his arms around her waist, savoring the silk of her camisole beneath his fingers. “You are.”

“Not very scientific, this underwear.” His fingers traced the lace edge. “Requires further investigation.” His lips found her collarbone, trailing kisses across her skin. She shifted closer, hooking her leg around his hip, drawing a groan from his chest.

“Investigation?” Her laugh became a gasp as he cupped her ass.

“Mmm.” He slid his hand between her thighs, circling slowly against silk until her head fell back, throat exposed. He could spend hours like this, memorizing every quiet sound.

A soft sigh fell from her parted lips.

“You like that, Duchess?”

“God. Yes.”

He kissed her neck, grazing her skin with his teeth.

She tugged his shorts off, a sly smile playing on her lips. “This is the best way to wake up.”

“Is that right?”

She skimmed her hands across his stomach. Her soft hands felt so good against his skin. He could never get enough of her.

The lace of her camisole slipped lower under his fingers.

He kissed the soft swell of her breast. “Better check for tracking devices.”

“Is that right?”

“Yup.” He pulled the camisole over her head, tossing it aside. “I’ll examine that later.”

She was so beautiful, inside and out. The words spilled from him. “God, you’re beautiful.” He tilted her chin up. “I love you, Freya.”

Her eyes met his. “I love you, too.”

A powerful wave of elation crashed through him, leaving him light-headed as he positioned himself against her warmth. He shifted till the thick head of his cock nudged her slickness, and she gasped. “Oh…”

He pressed forward, sinking into the tight, wet heat of her. She hooked one foot against him, urging him deeper, stripping him of the last remnants of his self-control.

Yes.

Reaching down, he slid his hand between their bodies, finding her clit. He stroked slow, lazy circles, feeling her tremble and her breaths shift to deeper, hungry gasps.

Her body arched, her moans changing pitch, need building with each subtle twist of his hand. She was close. He could feel it—a pulsing tension that brought his own pleasure surging closer to the edge. “Freya…”

“Abe, please…”

Blood roared in his ears as he sensed her release. Her body clenched around him, waves of pleasure flowing between them. He thrust deeper, driving toward his own edge, and with one final surge, he was lost. Abe spilled into her, bound to her in a blinding crescendo that obliterated everything else.

Slowly, he returned to himself, his body damp and tangled with hers, as he drifted back to earth. She traced light trails along his back, her fingertips an anchor to this perfect moment.

“Can we do that again?” she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth, feeling her smile widen against his. Nothing in this world made him happier. “I think that can be arranged.”