But then Tristan grins, and when I turn my gaze, Jameson is smiling softly, too. He says something to me in Russian—something Vasily used to say to my mom that I recognize but have a feeling he doesn’t know I know it. I love you. Before I can let those words sink in and fester, he traps my lips in a hard kiss, and Tristan begins to thrust deep within me, short bursts against my womb.
