Lydia sat on his lap, her chest rising and falling quickly. Her legs straddled his, the thin fabric of her nightgown barely clinging to her skin. Ivan's hands rested on her waist, his thumb slowly moving in circles as if he was holding himself back. Her lips were still parted from the moan she'd let slip—his name, soft and needy.
"Ivan…" she breathed again, her voice barely a whisper.
That sound—his name from her lips like a plea—did something to him.
He sat upright quickly, his arms tightening around her. His chest pressed against hers, their skin hot. His breath came fast, uneven, like he was trying to stay in control but couldn't. Lydia's hands trembled slightly as she reached for him again, but this time, it was her who leaned in.
She kissed him.
At first, it was gentle. Her lips moved slowly over his, savoring the feel of him. But that soft kiss wasn't enough. Not for her. Not for him. The need between them had been building, waiting, too long.
