CHAPTER 319

CHAPTER 319
ALINA

Alexander’s hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His fingers threaded into my hair and tightened, tipping my head back so I had no choice but to meet those intense blue eyes. His breathing was already ragged.

“Finally,” he muttered against my mouth. “No more waiting. No more ‘not yet.’ You’re cleared.”

My heart hitched.

“Alexander—”

Whatever I was going to say disappeared when his lips claimed mine.

The kiss was rough from the start—demanding, almost desperate. He didn’t ask for access so much as take it, and I opened for him without hesitation, surrendering completely.

His tongue slid against mine in a fierce, hungry battle that made my knees weak. The hand in my hair gave a sharp tug, angling my head exactly how he wanted, and the low sound that left him was pure need.

I gripped his shoulders, holding on as he kissed me like a man who had been denied too long. There was nothing careful about it. Nothing restrained.

Just weeks of tension and fear and forced distance pouring out between us in the press of mouths and the tight grip of his fingers.

He broke the kiss only long enough to speak against my lips, voice low and rough.

“Do you have any idea how many times I asked Rogers the same question?” He nipped my bottom lip, impatient. “How many days I watched you heal and told myself to wait?”

I was already breathless. “I can guess.”

“I’m done waiting.” His mouth returned to mine, deeper this time, more aggressive, as if every extra second of restraint was physically painful. “You’re mine. And I’m done being careful.”

My heart drummed hard against my ribs as the realization settled fully—Rogers had cleared us. There was nothing left standing between us.

No medical caution. No lingering threat. Just him and me and the sharp, overwhelming relief of finally being allowed to stop holding back.

I returned the kiss with equal fervor, fingers sliding up into his hair, pulling him closer like I was just as starved.

He made a low sound of approval and kissed me harder, claiming every breath, every soft noise I made, until the rest of the world—the basement, the blood, the war we had just ended—fell away completely.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against mine, both of us were breathing hard.

I let out a breathless laugh, fingers still curled in his shirt. “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” he rasped, thumb brushing my cheek. “Because I can’t be. I’m going to be rough. I’ve waited too long and I’m done holding back.”

“It’s finally over,” I whispered against his lips. “We’re free, my love.”

He groaned, arm tightening around my waist until there was no space left between us.

“Say that again,” he demanded, voice rough.

“It’s finally over. We’re free,” I repeated, softer this time.

“Not that part.” He kissed me once, quick and insistent. “The last part. Say it again.”

I let out a small laugh, heat rising to my cheeks. After everything we had done—after blood and basements and years of fear—I was still capable of blushing for him.

My fingers slid to the back of his neck as I met those steel-blue eyes.

“My love,” I whispered, just for him.

His gaze darkened with quiet satisfaction. “From now on, that’s what you call me.”

His lips were feather-light as they brushed my forehead, then my cheeks.

He lingered there for a moment before pulling away with clear reluctance, as if even those few seconds of softness cost him.

“Give me five minutes,” he muttered, already stepping back.

“Let me shower and get his blood off me. Then you, me, and this bed are making up for every single day we lost. Don’t move.”

Alexander was already moving before I could answer. He yanked his shirt over his head on the way to the bathroom, the fabric hitting the floor somewhere near the door.

His belt followed a second later. By the time he disappeared into the bathroom, he was half-undressed and clearly not interested in wasting a single second.

The door clicked shut. Water started running almost immediately.

I sat there for a beat, staring at the empty space he’d just occupied, then scrambled off the bed like someone had set a timer.

I walked to the mirror, smoothing my hair with both hands, trying to tame the strands that had come loose during that kiss. My reflection looked flushed, eyes a little too bright, mouth slightly swollen.

I tugged at my clothes, adjusted the neckline, then reached for the small bottle of perfume on the dresser and sprayed a light mist at my wrists and throat.

I caught myself mid-motion and almost laughed.

I had just watched a man die in a basement. I had blood on the edges of my memory and a husband currently washing someone else’s blood off his skin two rooms away.

And here I was, primping in front of a mirror like a teenager about to go on her first date.
Ridiculous.

I set the perfume down, smoothed my hair one last time, and turned back toward the bed—cheeks warm, pulse unsteady, and completely unable to stop the small, private smile that refused to leave my face.

Alexander was out in record time.
The bathroom door opened and he stepped out wearing nothing but a dark towel slung low around his hips, hair still damp, water beading along the lines of his shoulders and chest.

My mouth went dry at the sight of him—broad, powerful, and looking at me like he had already waited long enough.

“That was quick.”

His eyes locked on mine, already dark with intent. “I told you I didn’t want to waste any more fucking time.”

He stepped closer. I stood to meet him.

His hands slid to my waist, and before I could say a word his mouth claimed mine again—demanding, intense, every bit of remaining restraint finally gone.

My arms wound around his neck on instinct as I exhaled into the kiss. His tongue tangled with mine, sending a sharp spark straight through me.

One hand tightened at my waist and suddenly I was airborne. He lifted me effortlessly; I wrapped my legs around him and felt the hard press of him against me through the thin towel. Heat pooled low in my belly, raw and overwhelming.

I had never wanted anyone the way I wanted him right now. And from the way his hands roamed my back, from the way his kisses grew more frantic, I knew the patience he had forced himself to keep was already fraying.

I tightened my hold on his shoulders, gasping when he broke the kiss to trail harder, more impatient ones along my jaw and down my neck.

Each brush of his lips sent shivers racing across my skin. He lingered at the sensitive spot just below my ear, teeth grazing, before carrying me the rest of the way to the bed like he couldn’t get there fast enough.

The mattress was soft beneath me as he lowered me onto it, his body hovering over mine. He paused only long enough for those steel-blue eyes to sweep over me with an intensity that stole my breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, voice rough with need.

My heart pounded. I reached up and brushed my fingers along his jaw. “So are you.”

Then he was kissing me again—hungrier this time, almost desperate. My fingers fumbled at the towel, trembling with anticipation and the need to feel his skin against mine.

He pulled back instantly, breathing ragged, and stood just long enough to strip the towel away. I barely managed to shove my own trousers down before he was completely bare in front of me. My breath caught.

Every hard line of him looked carved by hunger and restraint finally snapping.

He stepped between my legs, presence overwhelming, and leaned down to unbutton my top. His fingers moved faster than before—still careful, but clearly impatient now.

Each button released felt like a promise he was done delaying. Heat pulsed between my thighs, leaving me aching. His eyes never left mine as he slid the fabric from my shoulders and tossed it aside.

I closed my eyes and let myself feel everything.

His hands trailed downward—warm, sure—cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive skin until they tightened under his touch. He leaned down and took one peak into his mouth, sucking harder than before, drawing a soft cry from me before moving to the other.

Then lower, across my stomach, less slow now, more purposeful, until he reached my thighs and pushed them apart with quiet command, opening me to him completely.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and dragged them down my legs in one decisive pull, tossing them aside without looking.

My breath hitched, eyes flying open as he positioned himself between my thighs. I felt the thick head of him press against my entrance, the heat of him sending a shiver straight up my spine.

He pushed in slowly at first, the stretch stealing my breath as he filled me inch by inch—then deeper, as if he couldn’t stand the pace any longer. My body opened for him, trembling around the intrusion.

He pulled back until he almost slipped free, then pushed in again, harder this time. Each movement was still controlled, but the restraint on his face was clearly costing him. He braced his hands on either side of my head, eyes locked on mine.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he groaned, voice already rough. “So tight… taking me so well. Should’ve been inside you days ago.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist and dug my heels into him, urging him deeper. My fingers bit into his shoulders as my body adjusted to his size, pleasure coiling tighter with every thrust. He groaned again, low and guttural, the sound vibrating through me.

“That’s it… take every inch.” His hips rolled harder, less careful now. “Missed this cunt so fucking much.”

When he was fully seated, the sensation was overwhelming—full, burning, perfect. He started moving faster, deeper, the wet sound of our bodies meeting filling the room.

I cried out with every thrust, unable to hold the sounds back.

A large hand gripped my chin and forced my eyes to his. The look on his face was pure feral hunger mixed with barely leashed impatience.

“Look at me while I fuck you,” he rasped. “Want to watch you come on my cock. Now.”

He drove into me harder, each powerful stroke punching the air from my lungs. The pressure in my belly built fast and sharp, rolling through every muscle until I was shaking on the edge.

“Fuck—Alina—” His rhythm turned almost punishing. “Coming already? Soak me. Let me feel it.”

I shattered with a broken scream, orgasm ripping through me in violent waves. My walls clenched hard around him as aftershocks kept rippling. He never slowed.

“That’s it… milk me,” he growled, hips snapping. “Fuck, I’m—”

He buried himself to the hilt and came with a raw, guttural cry, body shuddering as he spilled deep inside me.

For a long moment he stayed there, weight heavy and grounding, both of us gasping, hearts slamming against each other.

Eventually he eased down beside me, still half on top of me, fingers tracing lazy patterns along my spine. I tilted my head up and met his soft, satisfied smile—the impatience finally burned down into something quieter.

“Can we do that again?”

His lips curved into a teasing grin. “I’m here at your beck and call, wife.” The words were light, but the seriousness underneath made my chest tighten.

I rested my hand over his heart, feeling the steady thrum beneath my palm. “Good,” I whispered. “Because I don’t want this to end.”