that crawled out of Viktoria’s throat felt raw. It hurt like it, too. One of his hands came down to cover her mouth, but all she felt was him.
His words in her ear helped, too. “Let’s not wake up the whole loft.”
Fuck.
She wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t.
Not when he was filling her full and fucking her deep. Every brutal snap of his hips against hers sent her flying a little higher. The slap of skin, and his harsh breaths pulsing against her throat were the only sounds in the room.
And yet, despite how hard he fucked her, the rest of it was oh, so soft. His hand gliding over her curves, and his kisses dotting her skin.
That was the best part of him, she decided.
The part she loved the most.
Even in his roughness, he was gentle.
And he was hers.
16.
IT WAS only the rhythmic, soft noise of Viktoria’s breaths as she slept that kept Pav comfortable. In this room, he was far more likely to get lost inside his head. Memories that felt like punishments lived there. All too often, he didn’t allow himself to think of his father or this place he’d once lived for the majority of his life.
He’d read a book once—one he’d found in the forgotten rooms of the Compound—that said everyone had moments in their lives that were considered pivotal. So much so, that after that point in time in their lives, people no longer saw life as a simple road that they had traveled. It changed to be something different. They saw their life as before and after.
Before the moment happened.
And after it occurred.
The night his father brought him to the Compound was that moment for him. Or one of those kinds of moments, anyway. His life before the Boykovs, and his life after them. He knew Grisha felt guilty and that was part of the reason why he allowed Pav to come and go when he was allowed off his chain and leash for a time.
Grisha would have been watching him that night for Pav’s father, or another friend. Like he usually did every other night his father had to go out and work. But for whatever reason, on that night, things were different. Something came up last minute, the loft was empty when Dimitri got the call, and Pav had had to tag along with his father.
He was sure Grisha lived with a constant what if in the back of his mind. What if he had been home that night to watch him? What if he’d picked up Dimitri’s call and hadn’t let it go to voice mail? What if he never went to meet up with an old friend?
Pav didn’t blame him—he’d told him that before, although Grisha never really listened. That what if was too strong, and Grisha was unwilling to let it go. He understood that all too well.
Despite the fact that the loft—and this bedroom, specifically—was a constant, aching reminder of his life before, and he knew it would put him in a bad place for a while mentally, he still came back here.
A part of him never left here.
It was made slightly easier tonight by the fact Viktoria was tucked into his side. Although he hadn’t bothered to pull on any of his clothes except for the boxer-briefs, she’d pulled on her cotton panties and his T-shirt. With her arm slung over his middle and her head resting on his chest, she wasn’t moving an inch.
He didn’t mind.
Pav drifted the tips of his fingers with one hand through the soft waves of her hair, the rhythm calming him further, and dragging him out of his head. She was turned just enough that he could rest his chin at the top of her head and use his other hand to glide up and down her spine.
She slept better like this, but he didn’t tell her that. He’d noticed she moved less in her sleep when he was holding her. She didn’t whimper and her eyelids never flickered with nightmares she couldn’t escape from.
He knew when it was a bad night for her in the morning—her eyes would be darker and dimmed. She talked less, and when the words did come out, they were dull and yet still sharp at the same time.
But not like this.
This way, she slept well.
He didn’t mind staying awake for an extra couple of hours after she had fallen asleep to make sure she was in so deep of a good sleep that nothing