Page 71 of Anton

“I’m exhausted. I think I could fall asleep right here,” I murmured, letting my head fall back into the water as he massaged my neck, the warmth of his hands settling deep into me like a quiet promise.

“Soon. Not yet,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “Let me take care of you first.”

His voice was thick with exhaustion, but the tenderness in it made something inside me soften. This was all I needed right now. Just him, here, with me, after everything we’d been through.

Like the bath the evening before, we washed each other, but this time it was softer, more soothing than passionate—a quiet, intimate cleansing that had little to do with desire and everything to do with comfort.

We lingered under the water a few minutes longer, wrapped in each other’s arms. The silence between us was warm, familiar,and for once, there was no need for words. When Anton finally pulled back, he wrapped a towel around me, drying me with such care it almost felt like a promise, as though it was his way of showing me he’d always take care of me, be here for me, just like he promised.

I could barely move without him. When he guided me to the bed, my legs felt unsteady, like I was drifting rather than walking.

Anton settled beside me, pulling me against his chest. His body was solid and warm, anchoring me as exhaustion swept over me like a tidal wave. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this tired, but as I lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of Anton’s breath, a deep, unshakable peace filled me—something I hadn’t known in far too long.

“I need to sleep,” I murmured, my voice thick with fatigue.

“Same here,” he replied softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk. Tonight… we just rest.”

I nodded, letting the rhythm of his breath lull me into a deep, quiet sleep. There was no rush, no expectations—just the calm, comforting certainty of truly being together, after everything we’d been through.

The soft light of morning seeped through the edges of the curtains, wrapping the room in a quiet haze. Anton’s warmth surrounded me, his arm draped over my waist and his breath a steady rhythm against the back of my neck. Exhaustion had claimed us both last night, but even in sleep, he was my anchor.

I shifted slightly, careful not to disturb him, but the soft graze of my thigh against his sent a spark flickering through me. Hestirred, murmuring something incoherent before settling again, his body heavy with sleep.

For a moment, I just lay there, watching him. His face was relaxed, the hard edges I’d grown so used to seeing softened in sleep. The weight of everything we’d endured over the last few days seemed to have lifted, replaced by something lighter—something that felt a lot like hope.

I traced my fingers over the curve of his shoulder, marvelling at the strength beneath his skin. He had always been a fighter, always willing to throw himself into the fire for those he loved. And now, he was mine.

The thought sent a heady rush of warmth through me, and before I could second-guess myself, I slipped beneath the covers, my body sliding down the length of his.

Anton’s breathing hitched as my lips brushed against the line of his hip. He was already half-hard, and as I wrapped my hand around him, he twitched in response. A low groan rumbled from his chest, and I couldn’t help but smile as I kissed the sensitive skin just below his navel.

“Marcie…” His voice was thick with sleep, rough and gravelly, but there was no mistaking the edge of desire laced within it.

“Shh,” I murmured, pressing another kiss to the base of his cock. “Let me take care of you.”

His response was a deep, shuddering breath as I took him into my mouth, slow and deliberate, savouring the way he filled me. My tongue traced over him, exploring every ridge and curve as I hollowed my cheeks and drew him deeper.

“Fuck,” Anton hissed, his hips bucking slightly. His hand found its way to my hair, threading through the strands but not guiding me, just holding me as if he needed the connection.

I took my time, letting the rhythm of my movements build until he was fully awake, his muscles taut and his breathingragged. His moans filled the room, low and unrestrained, and I felt a surge of satisfaction knowing I could undo him like this.

“Marcie, stop,” he ground out, his voice strained. “If you don’t?—”

I pulled back, a playful smile curving my lips. “Don’t you want me to suck you, sir?” I pouted, batting my eyelids and feigning innocence.

His eyes darkened, and before I could react, he moved. In a swift motion, he pulled me up and flipped us over, pinning me beneath him. His body pressed against me, grounding me, and the intensity in his gaze stole my breath.

“You’re going to pay for that sassiness,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine.

I barely had time to process his words before he shifted, his hands gripping my hips as he guided me to straddle his chest. The position left me open and vulnerable, but the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing that mattered—made every shred of self-consciousness fade away.

“Anton,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and need.

His lips curved into a wicked smile, and then he was moving, his hands exploring every inch of me as his mouth found the sensitive skin of the inside of my thighs.

I gasped as his fingers slid between my slick folds, teasing and coaxing until I was trembling beneath him. His touch was both reverent and demanding, a contradiction that left me aching for more. Mr Sexy Soldier didn’t rush, taking his time to unravel me, and by the time his mouth replaced his fingers, I was a mess of whimpers and incoherent pleas.

“Anton, please,” I begged, my hands tangling in his hair as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge.

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