Page 60 of Ruined By Sin

He drives into me harder as one hand slides between us to circle my clit with his thumb. The added pressure sends me reeling. Pleasure crashes over me again, taking my breath away as my walls clench rhythmically around him. "Tim... Yes..."

Timur groans, “Kira—fuck.” and his rhythm falters, thrusts turning erratic and deep as he chases his own release.

He's uncoordinated and out of control, dragging in deep heaving breaths as he comes, pulsing heat inside me. His body shudders against mine while he rides it out and he glides in and out of my body, now slick with his moisture.

We stay locked together, panting, sweaty, and trembling. He presses soft, lazy kisses to my neck, my jaw, my lips, murmuring my name. Slowly he eases out of me and rolls to the side, pulling me tight against his chest without a word. His arm wraps around my waist as one leg slides between mine, holding me close like he’s afraid I might disappear.

I nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent, and my fingers splay on his chest as the exhaustion seeps into every pore of my body and saturates me to my core.

Sleep pulls me under slowly, his steady heartbeat the last thing I hear as I drift off, safe and loved in the circle of his arms.

EPILOGUE: TIMUR

"We are not inviting Kazimir's ex-girlfriend to our wedding."

"I mean, she's one of the towel girls... And I like her." Kira shrugs a shoulder and lifts an eyebrow at me. She's been hanging around the gym too much.

"Two dates and she keyed his car, Kira. She carved a word into his hood that I'm not going to repeat at this dinner table. We're not inviting her."

"I already told her she could come." The matter-of-fact way she says it is frustrating, but I love this spitfire and if she's that insistent, I don't know what I can say to stop her.

"Then un-tell her."

Kira twirls her fork through the pasta Sonya made us and smirks at me. She's already won this argument and she's just letting me flail around for entertainment. I've been seeing that look a lot since she moved in properly, and I still haven't figured out a defense for it. I don’t think there is one. She's so perfect just the way she is. I wouldn’t want to change a thing.

"Fine," I say. "But she sits on your side, far from any vehicles."

"Deal."

I take a sip of wine and lean back in my chair. My shoulders are killing me from being hunched over my desk for the past ten hours running security overhauls on the club. The new alliance with Victor means twice the infrastructure, twice the personnel, twice the headaches, and Roman has handed most of the technical coordination to me because apparently, I'm the only one in this family who understands how a firewall works.

"Oh, I talked to your brother today," Kira says, casual, like this is normal now. And it is, somehow. My fiancée talks to my brother about alliance logistics, and Roman actually listens to her. She's smarter than half the men at his table and he figured that out real quick. Kira is more than the bridge that brought our families together. She's a powerhouse. It's no wonder Victor had her working for him for so long.

"What did he want?"

"He wants to know if my uncle's men can help with security at the next invitational. Kazimir is stretched thin with Rostik's comeback fight on the same card."

"Rostik's fighting again?" This is news to me. Not even Kaz clued me in.

"Mmm," she hums. "Kaz cleared him this morning. His eye socket healed cleanly. He's been training for two weeks already."

"Nobody tells me anything." I shake my head and chuckle, but it's nice that someone is in the loop, even if I'm not.

"I'm telling you right now." She takes a bite and points her fork at me. "Also, your cousin Stepan called. He's got two moreinternational fighters lined up for the fall card. One from Brazil and one from Japan."

"Stepan needs to call me directly instead of going through you." That one's annoying. I get a good woman and suddenly, I'm just the computer nerd.

"He likes me better. I don't yell at him." Kira snickers, and it makes me grin. I love that she fits in so well with my family and I love that they treat her like one of us.

"I don't yell at him," I say in jest, dropping my fork on my plate a little too loudly.

"You yelled at him last Tuesday," she points out, lifting both eyebrows.

"He had that coming."

She grins at me and I can't help it. I grin back. This is what our evenings look like now and I wouldn't trade it for anything. She's woven herself into every part of my life so naturally that I can't remember what the house felt like before she was in it.

But I'm bone tired tonight, fantasizing about a glass of something dark and an hour of silence without wedding plans or computer screens. I love this woman across the table from me, but I've been going nonstop since seven this morning and my brain is cooked.