By the time the elevator opens twenty-six floors up, my dress is already unzipped and puddling around my waist. I’m sandwiched between Thomas and the wall, our bodies on fire at every connection point. His tongue chases mine, twirling and teasing.

He backs me into his bedroom, and when my knees contact the edge of the bed, I fall back into the soft mattress. He pulls my dress the rest of the way off and then makes quick work of my black bra and panty set too, leaving me bare in my heels while he’s fully dressed. It feels decadent and sinful, like he’s going to use me, pleasure my body while taking none for himself.

But I want him to get pleasure too. This is us reconnecting, moving to a new level after some really tough challenges.

“Take off your clothes. Let me see you too.”

Thomas unbuttons his shirt with deft fingers and flings it off carelessly, but when he slides his belt free from his slacks, he pauses and looks up at me.

I’m already expecting a flirty suggestion about him using the belt to tie me up, but what I’m not expecting are his next words. “Mia, I hurt you and I am so sorry. I feel like there’s no way for me to prove to you that I won’t lose control like that again. But I think ceding control to you might be a start.” He offers me the belt. “It’s not . . . who I am, but I can do it to prove to you that I have the strength to give you everything, to be the man you deserve.”

I sit up on the bed, thinking and asking, “Is this something you want to do or something you think I want you to do?”

He shrugs, and I can see the sad boy inside him, the one who would do anything to make his dad happy. But I don’t want that type of control over him. I don’t want him to give in to me to the detriment of himself. I want to build him up, accept the flaws, and celebrate every change we both make, individually and together. I want a partnership.

“No,” I say, and Thomas winces visibly.

He steps away from me, his eyes falling. “I understand. I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“No, I won’t tie you up because you think you need to prove something. I won’t let you punish yourself, physically or mentally, for something we’ve already moved past. I don’t want to change the way we make love unless it’s exploring something we both want. I happen to like the rough way you fuck me, take me, and own me, every inch, every cell, every corner of my heart. So, if you want that, then take your damn clothes off.”

He freezes for an instant, and I think he’s actually thinking about it, like I might let him walk out of this room and leave me. He thinks he’s possessive, but he’s got nothing on a Russian woman, and I’ll drag him back in here by his cock if he tries to go.

But then his face breaks out into the most beautiful smile, wide and happy and scrunching up his cheeks so much that little lines crinkle around his eyes. “Fuck, I love you,” he says.

“Still not naked,” I warn. But as he shoves his pants and underwear down his legs, I say earnestly, “I love you too.”

In a flash, he’s on me, or more to the point, he’s on the bed. But he lies on his back, yanking me up to straddle his face. “Give me that pussy. Fuck my mouth.”

Just the spread of my legs around his head feels naughty, but when I dip closer and his tongue licks along my slit, I’m lost, wanton with need that’s been building for days. He lets me set the pace as I buck against him, but as my moans get louder and my movements erratic, he holds me still and feasts on me. His tongue delves into my pussy, stiff and fucking me like a precursor to what he’s going to do with his cock. And when he slips up to circle my clit with wide strokes, electricity and love galvanize my body into a shuddering release.

I grab his head, holding him against me as I chase every spark of orgasm, and he drinks me down, gulping and slurping to get every drop.

As I relax, I sit back, making sure I didn’t smother him to death, but he’s still smiling happily. “That was fucking amazing.”

All of a sudden, I’m flying through the air and Thomas has switched our positions, putting me on my back as he looms over me. “I think you also asked for me to fuck you rough.”

I wiggle my eyebrow, challenging him. “Give me all you got.”

He teases the crown of his cock against my slippery folds. “I already have. You have all of me. I love you.”

I start to say the words back, but Thomas shoves into me with one powerful thrust, snatching my breath away. He’s deep and nearly splitting me in two, and . . . “I love youuu!”

The howl begins before I can finish telling him, but I think he gets it, judging by the cocky smile on his face.

He pounds into me fiercely, our lovemaking raw and primal as our hips slap against one another in a sexy symphony. But through the animalistic fucking, our eyes never break contact.

This is us, our lovemaking. Sometimes rough, sometimes playful, but always a true expression of the deep love we feel for each other and the acceptance for who we are at our cores. There is something extra-special about this time, like it’s the final puzzle piece of the rebirth of our relationship. We’ve been through work wildness, family feuds, and some hard self-awareness growth, but it’s all brought us to this moment. Thomas thinks he doesn’t deserve me, not yet, but he couldn’t be more wrong. I love every part of him, the Ruthless Bastard he’s moving away from, the secret White Knight he hides, my boss, my love. My Tommy.

And as he grunts, pistoning into my puffy pussy with his sweat marking my skin from his efforts, I realize he’s one more thing. My beast.