The kiss is different this time. Less desperate, more deliberate. He kisses me like he's been thinking about it for hours, like he'smapped out exactly how he wants to claim my mouth. I respond without hesitation, my hands finding the buttons of his shirt while his fingers tangle in my hair.
It is really happening.
I press myself closer, deepening the kiss until we're both breathing hard and the space between us feels electric.
"Are you sure?" he asks against my lips, and the careful control in his voice tells me how much this is costing him.
Am I sure?
Sure that I want him? Yes. Sure that this won't complicate everything? No. Sure that I'm making the right choice? I have no idea.
But I'm sure that I'm tired of being afraid. Tired of the other options.
"Yes," I whisper. "I'm sure."
That makes something change in his eyes. When he stands and extends his hand, I take it without hesitation.
He leads me toward the bedroom, and with every step, I feel more certain that whatever happens next will change everything. That there's no going back from this moment.
That I don't want to go back.
The bedroom is dimly lit, while Mikhail closes the door behind us with quiet finality.
"Last chance," he says, and I can see him fighting for control. "Once we cross this line---"
"There's no going back." I step closer, until we're almost touching. "I know."
"Mariana---"
I silence him with a kiss, pouring two years of suppressed attraction into the contact. He responds immediately, his arms coming around me like he's been waiting for permission to claim me completely.
Like he's been waiting for me to choose him.
And I am doing it. Not just for tonight, but for whatever comes after. For the dangerous possibility of a future that includes both of us still together in the long term, long enough to fall in love.
Love.
For the first time, that word means something to me.
The room becomes a blur of movement—cloth, breath, the sound of lust returning in waves. Our world narrowed to rhythmand heartbeat. Each kiss draws me deeper until the line between surrender and choice disappears entirely.
His mouth meet mine forcefully. He's being rough and dominant and so incredibly attractive that I lose track of my thoughts. His wide, hard thigh rubbed against mine and if my eyes weren't already closed, they would roll around inside my head.
Mikhail's lips moved along my jaw, until his teeth grazed the cord of my neck and I can't help but moan.
My hips began to move on his thigh.
Then his lips met mine again, as if playtime was over. The latent fire that started in my center became unbearable when he moved his body, lifting me until I wrap my legs around his waist, simulating thrusts above the clothes in a back and forth movement that managed to drive me crazy until I annulled my consciousness.
His hands find the hem of my tank top, and I lift my arms to let him pull it over my head. The move leaves me bare from the waist up, and the way he looks at me - like I'm something beautiful instead of something to be conquered - makes me feel more confident than afraid.
And next thing I know, he unclasped my bra to kiss my body until his lips circle my nipple while his hand pinches the other.
And for once, all I can do is feel.
"Oh, that's so good."
He laughs against my skin. "Am I going too fast?"