“What is it?” I whisper while he runs his finger down the side of my face, over my cheekbone, down to my lips. He rubs his finger over them and then opens my mouth, sliding a finger inside.

Instinctively, I suck on it and he closes his eyes, letting out a low moan. “This sweet soft mouth.”

Then a faint smile crosses his lips, and though the fear in his eyes doesn’t waver, it softens it.

“Maggie.” His voice is rough, low, coarse. It brings out a flurry of goosebumps all over my bare skin.

“Come back with me.”

My heart slows.

What?

I blink at him. “To…LA?”

“To Sweden,” he says. His fingers continue to trail across my face and his eyes go to where his fingers go, coasting over the rest of my face, taking in every detail. Now I’m as fearful as he is.

He licks his lips, his jaw wiggling as if he’s trying to find the words. “I told you I would come back for you. And here I am. I know this is last minute.” I would laugh at what an understatement that is, but my heart is beating so hard I don’t think I can even move. “I know you may need time. But I couldn’t wait. I don’t have many opportunities to up and leave and I took the first one I got. I have to go back tomorrow. I only came to ask you in person.”

Tears rush to my eyes. Tears of sorrow because I’ll have to say no, tears of frustration because I wish he had given me warning, because maybe then I could have said yes.

“I can’t,” I sob, trying to stay quiet. “You know I can’t.”

“Please tell me why.”

“Why?” I ask, incredulous. “Why?!”

“Maggie.” He exhales, his breath shaking as he stares back into my eyes, searching, searching. “Do you know what it means when I call you mitt liv, mitt allt? Mitt äiskling?”

A lump forms in my throat and the air around us thickens.

“What?” I whisper after a beat.

I’ve translated it.

I know.

But I want to hear him say it in my language.

Maybe then I’ll finally believe it.

“It means, you are my life and you are my everything and you are my love,” he says gently. “You have shaken me to my very soul, rattled the bars around my heart, and I am yours, Maggie, I am yours.”

Dear god.

I want to cry again. The emotion is building in my chest, squeezing tight. Heat prickles in my head, tempting the tears, while my heart dissolves into stardust.

Viktor just said he loves me.

I’ve never felt so free and joyous, both uncontained and grounded. His words, his words, his words. They tumble inside me over and over again until I’m smiling, tasting my tears, and…

God. I want to go with him.

It can’t just end like this.

“I love you too,” I tell him, my voice shaking. “I didn’t have a choice. All this time I thought it would go away, that I could blame what I felt for you on something else, that I didn’t know you enough to love you. But look at you. You’re Viktor. To know you is to love you.”

“I think that’s from a song,” he says softly, but he’s smiling.

“I think when you’re in love, everything is a song.”

“Then let’s play a wilder tune.”

One of his hands disappears into my hair, the other trails up the inside of my leg, soft and teasing, inch by inch over my sensitive skin. Adrenaline from his words is pumping through me and I’m already shivering at his touch, craving him more than I ever have before.

I am yours, Maggie, I am yours.

And I am his, I am his.

No matter what happens to us, I am his.

He keeps his eyes on mine, burning with new lust that seems to be struck from a match, blue flames in the darkness, and I’m so turned on already that I’m wet to my thighs. Suddenly I need him inside me more than I can bear.

“Mitt persika,” Viktor says through a groan as his hand slips down, his fingers finding my clit. I let out a small, anxious gasp as he teases it, his eyes never breaking from mine. “Come back with me.”

Even if I could, it would take brain power to sort it out, brain power I don’t have right now. My mind is shutting down, my body coming to life.

“Don’t think,” he says gruffly as he grabs my hips and parts my legs. “Say yes in other ways.” He reaches for his cock and runs the crown of it up and down my clit, pausing to dip it briefly inside before bringing it back up. The sound is so loud in this room, so wet, I worry for a moment that it can be heard outside these walls.

My eyes close, and I surrender myself to this torturous tease. He’s not pushing in—it’s just a slow slide, back and forth, but I feel myself opening for him anyway, my body hungry at first, then becoming wildly desperate for more. I’m both languid and tense, surrendering and spurring him on as he rubs against me over and over again.

“Come back with me,” he says again, his voice growing even rougher, like my silence is making him angry. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“Viktor,” I whisper, unable to stop from squirming. I need him inside me. It’s not just about getting off now, it’s about feeling achingly empty and incomplete without him. It’s another way to keep the fear at bay. The fear that he’s leaving. The fear I might say yes.

God, could I say yes this time?

I swallow hard, making a noise that’s nothing short of begging. My heart is starting to sound in my head, my skin is hot and tight, my nipples are hardened pebbles as the sheet brushes against them. I’m going crazy and I can’t handle the teasing anymore. “I want you inside me. I need it. Now. Please.”

“Tell me you’ll come back with me.”

“I’ll come with you, here and now in this bed,” I counter.

That seems to satisfy him. He’s as feverish and worked up as I am.

With a slow exhale, not breaking eye contact, he leans on his elbows and pushes himself in.

Slowly.

Torturously slow.

My head rolls to the side and I gasp, my hands gripping the sheets because I can feel every stiff inch of him spreading me wide, making me feel so fucking full I don’t know how I lived without him inside me.

He murmurs something in Swedish and starts to pick up the pace, his fingers become rougher as they grip and pinch my skin, holding me like he can’t ever let go.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, groaning through the words.

“No,” I say, licking my lips. I look at him, caught in the heated vibrancy of his stare. “But you can if you want.”

He nods and watches me intently as he thrusts in sharply. His lips part as he sucks in his breath, and his forehead creases in lust and awe, like he can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe how good it feels, how we’re together again.

“Perhaps that is suited for another night, when we have more privacy.”

He means so that the both of us can be loud. We must have gotten noise complaints at the Roosevelt Hotel.

“Persika,” he moans, his hands sliding to my breasts where he pinches my hardened nipples. “So fucking sweet, you feel so fucking good. Tell me you’re mine, I need to hear it.”

“I’m yours, Viktor, I’m yours.”

He’s watching me, watching himself where his cock sinks into me, his shaft wet with my desire. He’s entranced by the sight, the slow push in, the slow pull out.

So good. God, this is so, so good.

Oh…god, yes. Just like that.

Each rock of my hips, each roll of his, pushes him in deeper, makes us connect like magnets. The way his abs clench as he pushes inside, the tiny beads of sweat that gather in the creases, the dampness of his brow. I reach around and tug his firm ass toward me, wanting more, and he drives in so deep that the air leaves my lungs.

“Viktor,” I gasp, feeling the emotions swirl inside me, a whirlpool that I know will overtake me again before this is over. My head drops back, my eyes closing in shock as I surrender. He’s in me, in so deep, and I don’t ever want him to leave. This feels beyond right.

I can’t let him leave.

I won’t.

This man belongs with me.

The thought sets off something deep inside, a fire in my core that’s slowly increasing, spreading, heating up. It’s going to take over, it’s going to pull me under, and I’ve never wanted to come so badly in my life.

“Deeper,” I whisper, my voice choked with my sudden need for him. “Harder. Fuck me harder. Make me come.”

His eyes nearly roll back in his head at that and he responds instantly.

With a throaty growl he starts thrusting deeper, one hand in my hair, making a fist. He leans down, pressing his damp chest against mine, and kisses me, quick and hot, tasting like sweat. My mouth is ravenous against his, the need inside me building and building.

And then we find our rhythm, our bodies coming together in synchronicity. He’s pumping into me, working himself into a frenzy and I know we’re no longer being quiet anymore.

I no longer care.

This is my prince.

Right now, he’s my king.

The muscles in his neck are strained as the sweat rolls off of him, and his eyes are lost in a fiery haze, his pupils so dark and nearly covering all the blue. He reminds me of a wild animal caught in the middle of the jungle, ready to attack, and the sounds coming out of his mouth are equally as raw and primal.

The bed creaks, shuffling on the floor with each savage pump and I’m so glad there’s no one below us. The whirlpool of fire inside me is now at a roar and I can’t hold on.

“I’m coming,” I cry out, my voice raw and raspy and drowning with desire, trying to hold his gaze. He holds mine back, his eyes watching in torrid fascination.

Then I’m twisting as the orgasm washes over me. My body jolts and shudders and I’m high above this world, fading into the stars, into the black. Only warmth and joy remain as I’m washed up on a far-off shore, pushing all sadness away.

“Helvete,” Viktor grunts, pulling me out of the haze as he delves into a string of Swedish expletives. His growling, animalistic noises, the slap of his sweat-soaked skin against mine, the creak of the bed, all fill the air.