Page 78 of Vendetta Crown

My stomach growls in agreement, loudly enough that Ruslan chuckles as he turns back to the stove.

"See? Your body knows what it needs even when your mind is elsewhere." He ladles the rich, creamy mixture over a bed of egg noodles, sending steam rising up in fragrant curls.

I inhale deeply, letting the aroma of the food and the warmth of Ruslan's presence chase away the ghosts of today's filming.

Ruslan lifts his spoon, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. "Open," he commands softly.

I part my lips without hesitation, feeling a flutter in my stomach that has nothing to do with pregnancy. He slides the spoon between my lips, and I close my eyes as the rich flavor coats my tongue.

This simple act of being fed by him feels more intimate than I expected. And when he pulls away, I catch his wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of it where his pulse beats steady and strong.

My body feels heavy with emotion as I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. His arm comes around me automatically, pulling me closer, his warmth seeping through my clothes.

"Thank you," I whisper against the fabric of his shirt. "For being here today to help me as I faced my past."

His hand strokes my hair gently. "I swore a vow to you,zarechka. To cherish and hold you no matter what comes. Those weren't just words for a ceremony. I almost failed you once, but I won't fail you again. I promise."

I lift my head to look at him, studying the lines of his face, the strength in his jaw, the fullness of his lips, and the depth in his eyes that seems to hold universes.

"I don't think I could have done it without you there," I admit. "Seeing that set, stepping into it..." My voice catches. "It was like walking through a door into a past that I wanted to forget forever."

Ruslan's thumb wipes away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "And I'll be there with you again and again. For the rest of our lives, Aurora."

The way he says my name fills me with a sense of belonging I've craved for seven years.

"I love you," I whisper, the words falling from my lips as easily as breathing.

"I love you, too,zarechka. More than I ever thought possible."

He leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens as I part my lips for him. His tongue slides against mine, tasting of stroganoff and promises kept. I melt into him, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as our kiss becomes a conversation without words.

The kiss deepens, and I press myself into Ruslan's chest, feeling the hard muscles of his body against mine. His hands slide down to grip my hips, fingers exerting a delicious pressure that makes me gasp against his mouth.

There's a hunger between us that feels desperate, like we're trying to consume each other, to erase the darkness of the day with the heat of our bodies.

I push myself closer, wrapping my arms around his neck as his tongue slides against mine. Stroganoff clings to his lips, tasting like home and safety and desire all at once. My body responds instantly, a familiar warmth gathering low in my belly despite everything we've been through today.

Before I can react, his strong hands lift me effortlessly and deposit me on the cool marble of the kitchen counter.

I feel a thrill at his casual display of strength. At how easily he maneuvers me exactly where he wants me.

"What happened to dinner?" I ask coquettishly.

"Dinner can wait. Right now," he murmurs, stepping between my legs and pulling me to the edge of the counter, "I'm hungry for something else."

I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer until I can feel him hard against me through our clothes. His mouth finds mine again, and this kiss is different. It's slower, deeper, and more deliberate. One hand cradles the back of my neck while the other slides beneath my shirt, his large palm warm against my skin.

I moan softly as his hand travels upward, cupping my breast through my bra. My nipples have been sensitive since the pregnancy began, and even this gentle touch sends electricity through my body.

I press into him, wanting more, needing him with an intensity that pushes all other thoughts away.

Ruslan's hands glide along my skin, methodical and reverent, sending shivers across my body despite the kitchen's warmth. He finds the hem of my shirt and pulls it upward with deliberate slowness. I raise my arms, surrendering to his touch as the fabric slides over my head.

"Krasivaya," he whispers, his golden eyes drinking me in.

His tattooed fingers trace the fading bruises on my skin, each touch gentle as if handling something precious. It's a stark contrast to Kristofer's brutal grip, and I feel myself melting under Ruslan's careful ministrations.

"You'll be okay,zarechka," he murmurs, pressing his lips to my collarbone.

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