Page 55 of Under His Control
Her cry is raw and beautiful as she falls apart in my arms. Her body tightens, pulsing around me, nails biting into my shoulders as pleasure crashes over her. The sight, the feel of her release—so intense, so real—pulls mine from me with a snarl of her name. I empty into her, groaning hard as I push into her deeply one last time.
We collapse backward onto her mattress, tangled limbs and ragged breaths. I hold her tightly against me, feeling her heartbeat racing against my chest.
We lay there quietly for several minutes, letting our breathing even out, bodies slowly cooling. My fingers trace gentle patterns along her spine, feeling her relax fully into my touch.
“You okay?” I ask softly, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.
“Better than okay,” she murmurs sleepily against my chest. “That was a pretty unforgettable goodbye to this place.”
“Mmm,” I hum, threading my fingers through her hair lazily. “It deserved a proper farewell.”
She shifts slightly, head tucked beneath my chin, her breathing still slightly uneven. I stroke her bare back, savoring the feeling of her soft, warm body pressed against mine. After a moment, I tilt my head, studying her.
“You sure you’re ready to leave it behind?” I ask quietly.
She goes still for a beat then she nods, the motion small, almost shy.
“Yeah,” she says softly.
I catch the hesitation, the flicker of something she’s not saying. But I don’t push. Not now. Whatever backup plan she’s clinging to, whatever piece of her old life she isn’t ready to fully surrender yet, I’ll give her that.
I press a kiss to her temple, pulling her closer until her head rests fully over my heart. “Good,” I say. “Because I’m ready to take you home.”
Her hand curls against my side. She closes her eyes, and I feel her whole body melt into mine with a sigh.
I text my driver, letting him know that we’ll be a while yet.
I hold her like that, protective and content, letting the silence settle softly around us.
Right now she’s warm, safe, and mine.
And I’m not letting go.
CHAPTER 21
TAYLOR
“You’re quiet,” Anatoly says. “How are you feeling?”
The backseat of Anatoly’s SUV feels like another world compared to the city outside—dim, quiet, cocooned. The partition has been engaged for privacy, and it's just us, soft jazz playing through the speakers.
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and glance at him, heart doing that annoying flip it always does whenever he checks in on me.
“Excited. Nervous.” I chew my bottom lip. “It feels a little weird, officially moving into your place.”
He smiles, sending heat pooling low in my belly.
“Our place,” he corrects.
I nod but can’t quite shake the weight in my chest. “I’m also worried about Chris,” I admit. “I haven’t heard from him since the wedding. And until the debt’s officially cleared, it’s just,” I shrug helplessly, “it’s hard to relax.”
Anatoly’s hand slides across the seat finding mine, his thumb stroking slow, grounding circles on my wrist. “You’re not alone anymore, Taylor,” he says. “I’ve got you. And your brother’s debt is as good as gone. Nothing’s going to touch you.”
The promise in his voice sends a fierce, stupid, girlish wave of emotion crashing into me. I blink hard, squeezing his hand.
The world outside disappears.
The only thing that matters is the dark intensity in his eyes, the quiet assurance in the way he pulls me gently into his space.
