Ava
I blink, groaning softly as I try to adjust my eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the thin curtains of my bedroom window. A delicious aroma drifts through the air, teasing my senses and stirring a faint pang of hunger in my stomach.
Blinking again, my gaze bounces off the walls of my bedroom taking in the dark blue curtains and the…
Wait a minute, dark blue?
The curtains in my bedroom are beige.
I shoot out of bed, my hands clamping down on the silk sheets beside me. This isn’t my bedroom.
Where am I?
It takes me a moment but I quickly put together that I’m in Nikolai’s bedroom.
Why am I in Nikolai’s bedroom?
I squeeze my eyes shut while simultaneously running my fingers through my loose curls as I try and conjure up what the hell happened last night.
After Nikolai skipped my question for the second time, I came up with the rule that whoever skipped a question would have to take a shot of Sake.
It seemed like a brilliant idea at the time-probably because I was already feeling the buzz of the first shot I’d taken, plus I wanted answers and I was determined to get them even if it meant that I had to get him a little drunk to get it.
Big mistake on my part
Not only did I severely underestimate Nikolai’s ability to hold his liquor, but I also severely overestimated my own.
Needless to say, I passed out after my first skip. I groan and flop back into the bed, the scent of leather and cinnamon immediately overcoming my senses.
Nikolai must have brought me to his room after. Even though I’m sure my room would’ve been better, I’m glad he brought me to his. Nikolai’s room, with its clean lines and muted colours, feels strangely welcoming-annoyingly so. Even though I’m sure my own room would’ve been more comfortable, I can’t deny that being here feels warmer.
No, snap out of it. I am not about to make a habit out of finding myself in my husband’s bed.
Scowling, I toss my feet off the bed and into the fuzzy slippers by the side.
The cool morning air brushes my skin and I tung Nikolai’s shirt down my exposed thighs.
Ugh, I can’t wait until Kat gets here. I miss my own clothes and the privilege that came with not having to tug at my outfit every time I stand up.
Nikolai’s clothes did little to shield me from my husband’s predatorial gaze whenever we were in the same room together.
Last night I’d caught his green graze stray to my thighs on more than one occasion. It should’ve made me feel self-conscious how unapologetic he looked when I caught him staring at my bare thighs, but it didn’t.
Instead, a strange mixture of heat and power ran through my veins. There was something about the way his gaze lingered, unapologetic and intent, that made me feel like I held some unspoken control over him. It was weirdly exhilarating.
It’s not like I want his eyes on me all the time but my body wasn’t opposed to the idea.
My stomach growls and I realize it’s time for me to find the source of the aroma that has chosen to disrupt my sleep this morning. Not that I’m complaining. Pushing myself out of bed, I shuffle towards the door, yanking it open.
I find Nikolai in the kitchen. He is standing by the counter as he slides a pan of sizzling hot bacon into a plate. The smell hits me like a tsunami and my stomach growls louder, inevitably drawing Nikolai’s attention to where I’m standing at the entrance to the kitchen.
Today, he’s dressed in a pair of dark sweatpants and a light grey T-shirt, a stark contrast to his usual getup of tailored suits and polished shoes.
I try not to stare but it’s hard not to when the man looks like the definition of perfection.
How does someone look this good in the morning?
Thick black hair flops over his forehead, framing sculpted cheekbones and a sensual mouth.
I draw my gaze away from his lips when I catch my stare lingering on it longer than I need to.
It’s been two weeks since our kiss in his office, yet I couldn’t stop the heat from blooming all over my skin at the mere memory of his lips on mine.
A kiss shouldn’t be able to have me in knots the way the kiss Nikolai and I shared in his office did but my body didn’t seem to get the memo. Especially when he tugs his lips into a smirk as if he can sense the not-so-PG-13 thoughts swirling in my mind.
“Good morning,” he says, a trace of roughness running through his voice. His eyes roam my face, lingering on my lips for just a second before dragging his gaze down the rest of me. His eyes stop on the spot where the hem of his shirt meets my thighs, and his gaze darkens at the sight. An unexpected pulse thrums to life between my legs.
Oh God was I getting tuned on simply by his stare?
I shake my head, ignoring the blush creeping up my neck. Absolutely not. I was not about to think about my husband in that way. But then again… we were married, it wouldn’t be wrong for us to…
I mentally slap myself. Absolutely not.
“I see you’ve been busy”, I say, crossing my arms and resting my shoulder against the doorframe.
“Just thought you might be hungry after what happened last night”
That perks my attention.
“And what exactly happened last night?”
I couldn’t remember anything past the last question I asked him which had something to do with why he liked the colour brown or something like that.
I had forgotten what his answer was but it made me wonder what else I’d forgotten.
Oh God. Did something happen between us yesterday and I don’t remember?
I stare at Nikolai, hoping he can’t see the storm his words now raged in my mind.
“Nothing you need to worry about, Solnyshko. Come, I made your favourite.”
I’m about to ask him how he even knows what my favourite is but then I remember that he asked me yesterday as part of his five questions.
He nods towards the empty stool across from him and I hesitate before making my way over to it and sliding into the padded seat.
Nikolai slides a plate of golden brown pancakes in front of me, alongside crispy bacon and scrambled eggs.
“Priyatnogo appetita” (Enjoy your meal)
My mouth salivates at the sight before me and I peek at Nikolai only to find his eyes on me, watching me intently.
I stare at the food in front of me. It looks perfectly normal, and for some reason, I find that suspicious.
Slowly, I pick up the fork and with deliberate precision, I cut into the stack of fluffy pancakes, watching as the golden syrup drips lazily down the sides.
Bringing the bite to my lips, I close my eyes as the soft, airy texture meets my tongue. The sweetness spreads through my senses, so decadent and perfect that I almost moan.
These are the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten.
“How is it?” He asks, a grin already forming on his lips. He’s enjoying my reaction far too much.
“It’s okay, I guess if you’re into mediocre pancakes.” I am determined not to let his ego inflate any further.
My plate is empty in seconds and Nikolai chuckles softly, sliding another stack of pancakes onto my plate when I ask for seconds.
“Not a word.” I bite out and he raises his hands in surrender.
When I clear my plate for the second time, I lean back in my stool, placing a hand on my very stuffed, very happy belly.
“Full?”
“Very” I respond and start to pick up my plate when Nikolai stops me with a hand around my wrists. He takes
“I’ll do it,” he says, taking the plate from my hand and staking it with his before making his tongue the sink where he washes them.
I watch his fingers glide effortlessly along the rims of the plates, rinsing them, before placing them on the rack to dry.
“Kat and Ivan are arriving later today with Kira. I’ll be going to the airport to pick them up,” he announces, returning to his spot across the counter.
My brows shoot up, “it’s Wednesday already?”
It’s amazing how fast time flies when you aren’t paying attention.
Wait a minute, speaking of time, “Do you know what time it is?” I knew it was probably around nine but I needed to know for sure.
Today was supposed to be game day with the bridesmaids along with a few of Tatiana’s high school friends. While I wasn’t particularly looking forward to today’s events, Tatiana insisted that it would be good for me to get to know the girls beyond the bridesmaids setting.
Why she thinks so, I have no idea, but I wasn’t in any position to argue with the bride-to-be.
Nikolai hands me a cup of coffee, and I murmur a quiet, “Thank you,” wrapping my hands around the warm mug.
He pulls his phone out from his pocket, glances at the screen, and says, “Ten fifteen.”
I almost choke on my sip of coffee. Shit, I was supposed to meet up with Tatiana at nine-thirty.
“Faina’s gonna kill me.”