Nikolai
The sudden thud of a body hitting a surface snaps my attention toward the door.
Ava stands by the door, rubbing her elbow and wincing. Her brows pinch together in discomfort as she presses her palm against the sore spot, trying to soothe the ache.
“Ouch,” she mutters, her voice soft and lips forming a small pout.
Fuck.
Her hair is damp and sticks to her face in wet clumps, which makes her look like the literal definition of a wet dream and a mermaid rolled into one. Water beads trail down her shoulder and I can’t help the way my eyes follow the path, tracing it until the droplet disappears beneath the edge of the towel she holds tightly to her chest
Trakhni menya (Fuck me)
Somebody down there must really hate me to deliver hell to my doorsteps.
Because why else would my wife, the object of all my fantasies and the person who’s been on my mind since I stepped out of the shower minutes ago, be standing In front of me?
She looks like a deer caught in headlights as she takes in my half-dressed state.
“Oh my God” She squeals, horrified.
“I didn’t know you’d be undressed” She stammers, clamping her eyes shut and whipping a hand In front of her face to shield them.
Amusement filters my face as I tilt my head to the side unable to resist the slow pull of my lips into a smirk
Voskhititel’nyy (Adorable)
“Is that why you didn’t knock, Solnyshko?”
She reopens her eyes, fixing me with a look that tells me she doesn’t appreciate my comment while fidgeting with the hem of her towel.
How easy would it be to walk over to her and tug her towel down with a single flick of my wrist?
Fuck. Bad idea.
My wife wasn’t interested in me that way. At least not yet. On the plane, things had been different. She clung to me, desperate for me to distract her from the flits and flutters of the plane, and while I tried my best not to push her past her limits, I still noticed whenever her body turned rigid from my touch.
She wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t ready for me. At least not yet. But my God was I going to make her ready.
I stride towards her, reaching her in a few swift steps.
Her eyes widen when she sees me approaching. I place a hand on the door above her head, caging her against the wooden surface while my fingers trace the edge of the towel she’s holding.
I don’t pull, don’t release her from the confines of the fluffy cotton draped on her skin even though every part of my body, especially the very hard one in my sweatpants, begs me to.
“What are you doing here, Solnyshko?” I ask her, my eyes narrowing with heat as I take in the pale contrast of her skin against the dark towel she holds like a lifeline.
On the plane, her skin had felt so warm, and I wanted to feel it again. I want to soak up her warmth and bury it in the dark cold where only I can reach it.
Her gaze lowers, sliding over my chest, over every inch of exposed ink before stopping on the bullet wound just below my rib cage.
When she first saw my scars under the dim glow of the kitchen light, I’d expected her to be disgusted by them, horrified even but when she looked at me, pity dancing in those brown eyes of hers, I didn’t know if I would’ve preferred the disgust to the quiet ache her gaze stirred in me.
I wanted her to see me. All of me. Every broken scar and fractured wing. Maybe my plan worked a little too well because the satisfaction I saw in her eyes when I confirmed that I’d murdered my father for what he did to me had to be the most amazing thing I’d ever seen float in a person’s eyes
Her brows knit together in a slight scowl and I don’t think she realizes she’s reached out until her fingers brush the spot one of the men I’d caught had nicked me just days before.
Compared to the others, this one was faint and it surprised me how easily she discovered it.
Although I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. It was like that last time as well.
She presses down on it, and when I don’t react, she presses harder.
“Did something happen to you while you were away” she whispers, her voice laced with concern.
I swallow.
I had come to Russia to discuss business with Tatiana’s father. I was only supposed to be gone for three days and I made sure to inform Kat so that she could tell Ava while I was away. But then Dmitri and I were ambushed on our way back from one of our meetings by members of a rival faction Dmitri has been dealing with for months.
I never bothered to intervene before because Dmitri assured me that he had everything under control. He lied.
I ended up having to track down every member of the faction, including their leader, which ended up prolonging my stay in Russia.
A shudder racks my body when she brushes her thumb over the scar. Her touch is gentler and more cautious. She looks fascinated but there’s a hint of reserve in her eyes.
“Careful, I might start to think you care about me Solnyshko”
Her lips thin into a line that shows me that she doesn’t appreciate my smart-ass comment. I had been tempted on several occasions during my stay in Russia to pick up the phone and call her but I never did.
Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t think she wanted me to.
I assumed she wouldn’t care if I disappeared from her life for a while. I thought she would appreciate it even, but now looking at her, her lips turned downwards in a frown that kisses her brow. I wonder if that was a wise decision on my part, after all.
Her eyes meet mine for the first time since she stepped into my room, and I notice a sliver of unease, maybe doubt, flicker in her eyes before she drops her hand from my body. Breaking the contact.
“I don’t care,” she murmurs but I don’t know if she’s trying to convince me or herself.
Deciding it’s best for me not to know which I push back on my feet and shove my hands into my pocket.
“If you don’t tell me why you’re here, Solnyshko, I’ll assume you’ve come to pick up where we left off on the plane. Only this time I won’t be so gentle.
Her eyes widen at the realization of what my words imply and she tightens her hold around her towel.
I chuckle.
Ona chertovski ocharovatel’na (She’s fucking adorable)
“I need a shirt”, she states, trying to sound confident, but the slight tremor in her voice betrays her.
I lift a brow. Of all the things I thought could be the reason for her sudden intrusion in my bedroom, needing a shirt wasn’t one of them.
“Kat didn’t pack anything I could wear to sleep at night so I thought….”
“You want me to lend you my shirt, Solnyshko?”
She nods shyly, biting down her bottom lip. My eyes follow the action, fixating on the soft, tempting flesh as thoughts of my teeth replacing hers burn my mind.
The image goes straight to my dick and I groan.
The idea of her in my shirt-only my shirt-takes root in my mind, and it’s almost impossible to shake off. She’s clutching her towel like it is armour, but all I can think about is her tangled in my sheets, wearing nothing but the fabric she’s asking me for.
I rake a hand through my hair and let out a harsh breath, trying to regain some semblance of control.
She eyes me curiously, her brows lifting in a questioning stare.
I shake my head, moving to my closet and pulling out a plain black tee from the shelf.
I walk back to her, holding out the shirt for her to take. She mumbles a quiet thank you and takes the shirt from me, her fingers brushing mine as she does.
The contact is brief but electric, and she looks up at me hesitantly. “Can you turn around?” She asks and then adds, “Please”
I’m about to ask her why she can’t go back to her room to change but then I notice the gooseflesh prickling at her skin. She shivers a delicate tremor that travels throughout her body. It’s cold in Russia and for someone like her who isn’t used to the weather, standing there wet in nothing but a towel can be very uncomfortable.
With a groan, I give her my back. There’s a quiet rustle of clothes, and my fingers twitch at my side, wanting nothing more than to keep her bare.
“Done,” She announces and I turn back around, slowly.
My shirt is huge on her, the short sleeves hanging loose and turning into mid-sleeves against her smaller frame. The hem brushes her mid-thigh, teasingly short, and the way it clings to her damp skin has my mind racing with thoughts I know I shouldn’t entertain.
I bite back a curse and shove my hands into my pocket before I do something I might regret.
“It’s bigger than I thought it would be,” she mutters to herself, tugging at the sides of the shirt and pulling it back against her figure. The singular action moulds the fabric to her body, and I can’t stop the way my eyes roam over every dip and curve the loose material now highlights.
The sight is both maddening and mesmerizing.
She releases the fabric and lifts a brow in my direction.
“It’s not meant to fit,” I say, my voice rough, a hint of irritation creeping in. Whether it’s with her or myself, I’m not sure.
She rolls her eyes and fits a hand on her hip.
“Right”
Unable to stop myself, I take a step towards her. Her breath hitches in her throat when I twirl her wet curls around my finger, “You look good in my clothes” I murmur appreciatively.
She swallows and takes a step back. My hands fall away and a small smile twists at her lips.
“I bet you say that to all the girls”
My jaw clenches. I don’t and it’s the second time she’s suggested that I want anyone but her.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever let wear my clothes, Solnyshko”