Page 64 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

And I can’t help but wonder if that’s the Liya he wants back, too. The brilliant, intense helper who wants nothing more than to see the world change from where she stands within it.

Billions of people occupy this globe, and I’m sitting with the guy who could change everything.

If only I would just workwithhim instead of against him.

“There must be a balance somewhere,” I reason. “Between the Liya you fell in love with and the Liya who’s emerging right now.”

His countenance shifts. Concentration sweeps over his face and he stares at the space between us on the table, the mere inches separating our hands. I hadn’t realized we were sitting so close. It’s like we subconsciously want to be close to each other.

He taps the wood thoughtfully. “How?”

“I don’t know yet,” I reply honestly. “But I don’t think it’s impossible. Do you?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not.”

A soft expression seeps into place while he looks at me. The more he holds my gaze, the gentler his eyes glow as though the ice itself in those pupils is melting into a calm lake. He seessomethingin me. And it must be worth softening for.

Or else he wouldn’t do it.

And that’s when I realize the sensation in my bones that radiated earlier with him bowing his head.

Thepowerof vulnerability.

The power of standing stark naked in front of the person you care most about and knowing that you are still—in that moment—invincible.

And that’s what he’s been doing with me this whole time.

I take a shaky breath and take his hand. “Tell me it’s worth doing.”

He doesn’t miss a beat as he replies, “It’s worth doing, Liya. I’m willing to compromise.”

My lower lip quivers. He leans toward me and strokes my cheek, his mouth lightly grazing my cheek as he adds, “We can figure it out…together.”

That’s all it takes for me to concede.

No apology is needed. Just accommodation.

And the kind of affection that makes me believe him.

That’s one of the more brilliant things about Pavel: he’s the kind to show that he can keep his word. While my past was paved with promises, my future is carved out of the choices we make and the behaviors that make those choices stick.

It’s what makes being here worth it.

The way his lips clasp mine reminds me of the tenderness he harbors for me. His fingers trail over my cheek and then trace my jawline, pausing at my chin. He tilts my head to expose my neck—but only a small portion.

It’s not just my flesh he wants. It’severything.

It’s the way he touches me that tells me he wishes to keep me with him forever. And that’s why his actions are so resolute and precise.

Because they’re what promises are made of.

A torrent of heat pools in my slit as he kneels in front of me. He descends upon my breasts as he nestles between my legs. His thumb sweeps—with an aching slowness—over my bottom lip. A finger hooks into my jeans, pausing just as the tip teases my bud.

My eyelids grow heavy—too heavy to look at him. I can feel his penetrative gaze without even needing to see it. While I struggle to pry my eyes open, I tighten my knees together, urging him to continue. He dives for my neck, consuming every bit of exposed flesh with hungry groans while his fingers work open my pants.

Cool air greets my slit. Arousal decorates my smooth flesh, causing me to shiver. He pushes my knees apart and releases my throat to peer down.

“Beautiful,” he whispers. “As always.”

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