“Of course I looked. And if I’d found him I would have told you because it would have been one more weapon in my arsenal to make you stay. You wouldn’t leave East Berlin if your father was imprisoned here.”
Evony considers this, and then shakes her head unbelievingly. “Honestly, are there no depths to which you won’t sink?”
“None. And do you know why? Because you’re mine. Because I’m going to keep you, no matter what.” I take a deep breath, searching her eyes. I wanted to coax the words from her first, the same way I coaxed her lips to mine, her body to yield beneath me. But I can’t wait any longer. “And because I love you.”
She whimpers and her fingers tighten on my lapels. “But I’m trying to escape you. I’ve tried again and again to get away from you. I’ve sneaked behind your back, nearly betrayed you, almost had you thrown in prison. Why do you love me?”
“Because it’s not me you’re trying to get away from and it hasn’t been me for a long time. It’s East Berlin you hate. It’s the Stasi you hate. I’m what you want.” My voice is whisper-soft against her mouth. “Come to my bed, Liebling. There’s no reason why not now. I want you in my arms all night. I want you as mine.”
“You want me, the traitor?”
“I want my Valkyrie. My battleground flower. My indestructible girl. Your love is hard won.”
“I haven’t said that I—”
But I stop her lips with my own. I won’t have her telling me she doesn’t love me. I don’t want her lies. I will have the truth from her lips, and soon. But for now I’ll have it from her body.
I scoop her up and carry her to my bedroom. There’s no biting, no scratching, no swearing at me. Her lips are
soft and panting as I undress her, her breasts heavy in my hands, her curved hips warm and soft to my touch. I pick her up and settle her naked in my lap as I sit on the edge of the bed, stroking her, plucking her nipples. Her clit is swollen and slick to the touch as I rub it in tight circles, watch her face flush, her eyes close. She tips her head back, offering to me the long, creamy column of her neck.
When her cries reach a crescendo she reaches down between her legs and fumbles at my trousers. Her movements are clumsy because I don’t stop stroking her hard nub of pleasure and she’s close to coming. When she frees my cock she strokes its length in her small hands, pressing her face into my shoulder, lost in the sensations coursing through her. Then, licking her lips she raises herself up a little and positions my length at her sex. She bears down slowly, inch by inch, piercing herself slowly, tight and delicious around me. I hold her waist, watching the movements of her hips as she starts to rock. Her arms wrap around my neck and her mouth is against mine as she rides me harder and faster, eager to come, needing to work out all her stress and confusion on my hard length.
Whimpering my name over and over, she reaches her climax, her body locking around mine and skin heating like a furnace. She stills and goes limp, but I haven’t finished with her. Still inside her, I lift her up and turn around so that she’s on her back on the bed. I thrust hard, deeply, needing to feel her all the way to the hilt. She holds onto my uniform jacket, watching me with desperate eyes as I pound her hard, keeping a tight hold on myself even though I’m on the verge of coming as I can see she’s close and I want to break with her.
“Reinhardt, I—”
She wants to say something important but she breaks off and kisses me instead. Then she moans, long and loud, and I let my body go, finishing with long, hard strokes as she tightens and clenches around me, the sensations breaking over us.
When I withdraw she clings to me tightly though she hides her face in my chest as if overcome with shyness. I hold her close, stroking her cooling skin. And I smile, kissing her temple. She loves me. I’m still wearing the uniform that she hates so much. This is how I know.
Chapter Twenty-One
Evony
After we make love Reinhardt undresses slowly, watching me with a soft half-smile on his face, as if he’s thinking pleased and secret thoughts. When he’s naked he pulls the covers back and tucks us beneath them, settling me in his arms. I know I should go to my own room but after all the worry it feels so good to be held by him.
Ich liebe dich. I love you. Those words on his lips make me weak with hopelessness and longing. They wind like satin ribbons around my heart; beautiful, but binding just the same.
How is it I love you back?
It’s so easy to lose myself in the bliss of his mouth, his body, because he’s right. It’s not him I want to flee, just all that he represents. I couldn’t bear the thought of him being imprisoned in exchange for my freedom. Being close to him, desired by him, protected by him, it’s the most alive and cherished I’ve ever felt in my life. Reinhardt is strange, powerful and addicting, and no matter what I tell myself I should feel I can’t hurt him, and I can’t get enough of him.
He falls asleep, but I lie awake for a long time, fretting over what’s going to happen to me. I’m still no closer to finding my father and I’ve lost my escape route to West Berlin. No, not lost—this group Peter told me about must never have existed. What would Peter have done with me once I’d given him everything he needed about Reinhardt? Handed me off to his captain and then gloated over my stupidity, I suppose.
This is what you wanted to happen, an insidious voice says. You wanted Reinhardt to find out about your spying and put a stop to it, didn’t you? You wanted a reason to stay with him in the East.
I roll toward him and kiss him as he slumbers. His cheek, his lips, his chin. I ease myself under his arm and he responds sleepily, tightening his arms around me and burying his face in the nape of my neck. How right I was to be afraid of this because it is blissful to fall asleep this way with him, held close and loved.
But I can’t stay in East Berlin, not even for him. I’m back to square one and I’m going to have to think of a new escape plan. This time I’ll just have to be sure it won’t involve sending the man I love to prison so there’ll be no reason to back out. My eyes trace the lines and planes of Reinhardt’s face, the curve of his lower lip, softened by sleep.
No reason at all.
In the small hours of the morning I’m yanked out of sleep by a cry of alarm. Reinhardt has sat bolt upright in bed, his chest heaving and his body drenched in cold sweat. I touch him and he jumps as if he’s forgotten I’m there.
“Reinhardt, what’s wrong?”
He pushes a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as if he’s in pain. “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”