Ava
I glance down at Kira’s sleeping frame, all curled up in my lap, and let out a sigh. She had fallen asleep during the ride home and was currently fisting the fabric of my dress in her tiny hands for dear life.
We visited three more stores after lunch and only came across the third store by accident. It was there we found the perfect dress for both Kira and Kat to wear to Tatiana’s wedding.
Kira had chosen a baby blue dress made from layers and layers of Tulle, While Kat had settled for something more sophisticated. An emerald green dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline made from luxurious silk and had a thigh-high slit. She had fallen in love with the dress almost instantly and I blushed when she mentioned how she couldn’t wait for Ivan to take it off after the wedding.
Unlike me, Kat and Ivan had a very active sex life. Some might even say too active. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve walked in on them nearly getting it on back at the house in Chicago. It took more than a little mental bleach to scrub the image of Kat’s bare ass out of my mind.
I tap on my phone screen and watch as the device lights up in my hands.
No new messages.
Nikolai hadn’t replied to my text yet and I had no idea how to feel about it. He had read it, of course, he had, but his silence did little to quell my raging nerves.
The driver rounds into the driveway of the guest house, the car slowing as we near the entrance.
Kat is the first one to open the door when the car stops.
“I’ll get the bags” she announces, making her way to the trunk where all our shopping bags were kept.
I slide out of the vehicle, cradling Kira in my arms. Her head lolls against my shoulder, her lips parted in a sigh. I brush a stray curl out of her face, careful not to wake her.
Kat straightens, shopping bags in hand, just as the door to the guesthouse bursts open and Ivan strides out.
He’s just like I remember, same blonde hair and blue eyes with lips that smile only for her.
He walks up to Kat his gaze never straying as he leans down and presses a firm kiss on his wife’s lips.
One would think that with the number of times, I’ve seen the two of them together in the same room, I’ll be useful to the level of emotion they shared.
One would be wrong.
Just as Ivan tries to deepen the kiss, Kat pulls away laughing.
“Stop that” She giggles like a schoolgirl in the midst of their first crush.
I would gag if I didn’t find their display oddly heartwarming.
“YA skuchal po tebe, moya lyubov'” (I missed you, my love). He presses another kiss on her cheek. Kat grins at him, and I watch as the love she has for him shines through her eyes.
“Kak ty mozhesh’ skuchat’ po mne? Menya ne bylo vsego paru chasov?” She laughs
(How can you miss me? I’ve only been gone for a couple of hours?)
I clear my throat, drawing Kat’s attention towards me. She blinks at me as it dawns on her that I’ve been standing there the entire time watching their display.
“Is Nikolai home?” I ask, adjusting Kira on my hip. The poor thing clutches me tighter.
“He’s in the kitchen,” Ivan replies not bothering to let go of his wife. He leans down to kiss her again, but Kat quickly averts her lips, and his lips end up on her cheek.
“Take the bags inside for me will you?” She says to Ivan, then turns to me, “I’ll put Kira to bed” She manages to peel herself away from her husband’s grasp and walks towards me to relieve the little girl from my arms.
Kira stirs slightly but thankfully doesn’t wake, her fingers tighten around the fabric of my dress for just a second before she releases it and settles in Kat’s arms.
“Thank you” I whisper, grateful for the relief.
My arms feel strangely empty without Kira’s warmth, but I know she’s in good hands, so I don’t let it linger.
Kat gives me a small smile as she disappears into the guesthouse next door with her husband following close behind her.
When they’re gone I stare at the door in front of me. The one that belongs to the guesthouse where Nikolai and I reside for what feels like forever.
Although I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to say when I see Nikolai, I do know that standing out here in the cold isn’t going to help me figure it out sooner.
Straightening my dress, I take a steadying breath to calm my nerves.
Here goes nothing.
I try to move, but when I realise that my feet are still, in fact, rooted in the same spot after my third attempt, I smooth a hand over my dress as if the action will give my feet the boost they need to move.
This is crazy. Why am I acting this way? What happened last night shouldn’t be a big deal. I’m an adult, for crying out loud; I should be able to do this like a normal person without having my feelings complicate things.
Breathe Ava, just breathe. It’s not that big of a deal. Everyone has had at least one half-high awkward sexual encounter at least once in their life; why should I be any different?
Taking another steadying breath, I finally force my feet to move, one step after the other until I’m standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
Nikolai is by the counter, his back is to me and his phone is pressed against his ear in one hand.
The soft overhead light casts a subtle glow over his body making him look more like an angel instead of the devil he is.
Today, he’s dressed in a black shirt, which is tucked into a pair of well-fitted slacks. The fabric hugs his body, stretching across the hard planes of his shoulders. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, giving me the perfect view of his tattoos and the corded muscles of his forearm. It’s impossible not to notice the way the black ink dips and swirls over his skin, stopping just shy of his fingers. Fingers that had dug into my waist last night as he dragged me over his length, again and again, and again…
Argh, focus Ava. This is no time for flashbacks.
He hasn’t noticed me yet. He’s too absorbed in whatever the person on the other end of the line is saying to realise I’m even standing there.
“Vy uvereny?” (Are you sure?)
I furrow my brows as he waits for the other person to respond, and when they do, he fires off angrily in Russian.
The sight of my husband speaking angry Russian to whoever it is on the phone shouldn’t be such a turn on but here I am remembering all the ways he had talked dirty to me in his language the previous night while I rode him in the back seat of his car.
Heat blooms between my legs, and I squeeze them together, hoping he doesn’t see how affected I am.
My God, what is wrong with me? Was one orgasm really all it took to unleash the horny demon inside?
Apparently so
For a moment, I think I hear the name Aaron tangled in his conversation, but I know that’s impossible. Why would my brother’s name come up in his conversation?
Finally, he ends the call. Slipping the device into his back pocket. He turns around, his green eyes locking with mine and my stupid heart stutters in my chest.
“How long have you been standing there, Solnyshko?” He asks, pinning me with a look.
I shrug casually, “Not long.” I reply, scraping my thumb with my pinky nail.
He nods, His gaze dropping as his eyes roam over my body with deliberate slowness, the kind that makes the butterflies in my stomach go on a rampage and my skin prickle with awareness.
His eyes sweep up my face, lingering on my lips and the image of him nipping the tender flesh flashes through my mind.
Heat warms my face and a slight smirk curves at the corner of his mouth as if he can sense the thoughts spiraling in my mind. For his sake and my dignity, I hope he can’t.
Stepping into the kitchen, I try my best to not act as nervous as I feel.
“I see”, He hums thoughtfully; Nikolai leans back in his stance, his posture relaxed, but his gaze remains as sharp as ever, locked on me
“We need to talk,” I say, stepping closer to the counter.
“So I’ve heard”
My eyes narrow, “So you did read the text,”
“I did” he replies coolly,
“Then why didn’t you reply?”
He arches a brow, “Did you want me to reply?”
Yes. No. I don’t know. I shake my head. When I don’t answer Nikolai grins.
“Besides, I assumed that you’d prefer a face-to-face interaction for whatever it is you have to say”
He’s right. The conversation we need to have cannot be done over the phone. What I need to say needs to be done while I’m looking at him.
“So,” he says, rounding the counter until he’s standing only a few inches away from me, “What is it you want to talk about Solnyshko?”