Ava
Nikolai scatter kisses down the side of my breasts then lower, lathering my stomach with the same attention. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of my shorts and my body tightens with anticipation.
Nikolai’s mouth had felt divine between my legs, and as much as I wanted to deny it, I loved every second he spent tasting me until my throat turned raw from the intensity.
I want to feel that again. He’d been so perfect, so gentle with me. I study the way his eyes shut and his nostrils flare with each steadying breath he draws.
“Go on a date with me tomorrow night”
I think I’m dreaming until his voice breaks through the fog clouding my thoughts. I pry my eyes apart, looking down at him and meeting his gaze.
“A date?”
He nods then nips light at my hip bone, sending a violent shiver rippling through my entire body.
“Yes, a date”, he murmurs, trailing lower.
“Why?”
He glances up at me briefly, his dark green eyes piercing into me in a way that makes my chest feel all tight and achy.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said.” His nose brushes my knee “About how you know nothing about me and I want to change that”
“And you think a date will help me know you better”
He nods once, “To an extent. I think a date will allow us to know each other better, for instance, you could tell me about your allergies”
I laugh a little at that, “I don’t have any”
When we played the game, 20 questions in Russia, I’d seen it as an opportunity to get to know my husband beyond the man who’d stormed into my wedding and forced me to marry me.
In the course of my questioning, I was able to deduce three things about the man currently situated between my legs.
Number one: his favourite colour is brown
Number two: He doesn’t like talking about his nightmares or what triggers them in the first place.
And finally, number three, he was lying about us never having met before the wedding.
(Number three was still a hunch but a very strong one nonetheless)
“Good to know”, he murmurs, and then he slides down my body, lifting my leg over his shoulder.
“Nikolai wha..” I start to say but my husband shuts me up by pressing a kiss to my inner thigh.
This position is far too intimate, and looking down at him from this angle, straight into his eyes, makes me feel… vulnerable. Like I’m exposed even though my shorts are serving as a barrier from his lips and the rest of me.
I try to pull my leg back but Nikolai only tightens his grip around my thigh with a rough growl, keeping me exactly where he wants me.
“Go on a date with me,” he asks again, his lips dangerously close to where I need him the most, “And I promise to make it worth your time”
“We don’t even know each other”, I argue, my voice barely above a whisper and my fingers fisting the silk sheets.
“Isn’t that what a date is for? To get to know what makes the other person tick”
“Our entire relationship is based on an agreement between our fathers”
“Every relationship is based on an agreement; ours just happens to be between two people who don’t give a fuck about us.”
Can’t argue with that. Nikolai’s father hurt him. The man had branded his son’s skin in ways no parent should ever do to their child, and while mine hadn’t physically hurt me, his actions had left a wound so deep in my heart.
“You still want to kill my father”
His jaw tightens, “That hasn’t changed but now my reasons are geared towards more personal” he dips his finger under my shorts, lips curling, “reasons”
He presses a kiss higher up my thigh and I squirm. Pinning me to the mattress, he keeps me steady as he continues his maddening exploration.
“I want to kill him because he hurt you. He sold you to the Moretti’s and wanted you to marry a man whose entire persona is built around raping and hurting women, and that is something I can never forgive him for.”
His words hit me like a freight train. I’ve always known Nikolai’s hatred for my father burned brightly, majorly because he thinks my father was involved in his brother’s death, but hearing the venom in his voice as he talks about what my father did to me is utterly shattering.
I was aware of the kind of man Antonio Moretti was even before my father informed me I was to wed him. His reputation as a rapist and woman beater preceded him in Chicago, which was why, when my father informed me that he arranged my wedding to me, I’d felt utterly betrayed and heartbroken.
‘Antonio will be good to you. His father will make sure of it.’
Those were the words my father had uttered to me minutes before the ceremony took place and I’d have believed him if I didn’t know a thing about how dangerous the Moretti’s truly were.
All this time, I’ve been trying to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, he had his reasons, that maybe everyone else was wrong, and my father was just trying to protect me in the only way he knew how.
But my father’s been gone for a month now and if he really cared about me, wouldn’t he have reached out by now with some sort of explanation?
It’s clear that my father doesn’t care if I live or die, as long as he is safe, he doesn’t mind trading me or anybody else. But Nikolai, I glance down at my husband, he’s different.
He cared about me. He found me when he thought I went missing, consoled me when I cried and picked me up from the station when I got arrested.
He wasn’t perfect. Far from it. He wasn’t a good man, but for some reason, he’d been nothing but good to me since the moment we met, even when I thought he hated me.
“How many dates have you been on?”
My question filters through the air, surprising both of us.
“A few,” he answers, tracing kisses on my thigh,
“How many is a few?”
“Five, maybe six.”
Oh.
“I’ve never been on a date,” I confess.
His lips don’t stop moving, “I find that hard to believe”
I swallow past the knot in my throat, “it’s true. In high school, the boys in my grade were scared to ask me out, and in Uni, well, not much has changed. Then I married you and that was the end of that I guess”
My voice trails off. Nikolai peers up at me from between my legs, his gaze unwavering as he takes in my words, the weight of them seeming to settle in the air.
His hand flexes around my thigh, before gently stroking the flesh there.
“Allow me to change that for you, Solnyshko. Let me be the first man to take you out on a proper date”
He wants to be the first man to take me out on a proper date?
My heart rate doubles, excitement thrumming in my veins at the thought of Nikolai taking me out on a real date.
One where he gets me flowers, holds my hand as we walk back and kisses me after it’s over
A date with my husband doesn’t sound half bad.
“Okay”
The smile that stretches his lips is heart-stopping. He looks like a kid who’s just been told the tooth fairy came to visit and my heart cracks ever so slightly.
Dimples.
It’s strange, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen his dimples appear whenever he smirked at me. They only appear now as he smiles up at me like my agreement to his proposal is the best thing that has ever happened to him.
“Thank you”, He murmurs, then presses a kiss on the side of my knee. He adjusts my leg on his shoulder and helps me peel off my shorts. Before I can process what’s about to happen his lips touch me there, erasing all thoughts of my father as he completely devours me until I am the one thanking him.