Page 63 of Brutal Secrets
I turn toward him, looking at the stripes of light across his prominent brow and the carved profile of his nose. He traces the line of my brow with his lips and then presses a kiss against my temple before he pulls me against his side.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever done this with since Polina.”
“What? Bedtime stories?”
He laughs. “That too. But no. You are the only woman I’ve ever spent the night with.” He tips his head down and drags his lips back and forth across mine, sending sparks of electricity through me.
“Let’s make it count.” I taste his lips as they curl into a smile against my mouth.
“What? With a kid in the room?” He sounds almost boyish with excitement.
“No. Get your mind out of the gutter.” I gust out a laugh and kiss him again. “Put your arms around me and let me pretend.”
“What do you want to pretend, zolotaya?”
“That we’re a family who will live happily ever after. Just like in the fairy tales. Even the Russian stories have happy endings, right?”
“Okay.” He draws out the second syllable, sounding dubious but also curiously hopeful. “So, what do I do?”
“You hold me,” I say as he shifts closer and pulls me against his body. I feel so sheltered in his arms as he wraps them around me. I revel in the warmth of his skin and the steady beating of his heart against my ear.
“That’s all?” His question rumbles through his chest and reverberates through my body.
“Yes. You hold me like it’s easy and you do it every night, like there’s nowhere you’d rather be.”
He presses another soft kiss against my mouth. I open to him, the gentle touch of his tongue, and the taste of mint from his chewing gum. Swallowing the wonder of being so close after longing for it all this time. There’s something achingly sweet about these chaste kisses as our daughter sleeps beside us.
“I never forgot you,” he says. “I used to lie in bed and listen to that album and imagine something just like this.”
“You did?”
“Sure I did. Well...” He chuckles. “My imagination was a bit more R-rated than what we’re doing now. I used to imagine your mouth. You sucking me while I listened to that album. God, I remember how you felt in Moscow. Turned me on so much to think about it.”
He kisses me again. Deeper this time. His tongue strokes mine, and his hips rock against me in a matching rhythm.
Then he stills and rubs his nose against mine. “I’m not pretending. There is nowhere I’d rather be, but I knew I’d be doing you a favor if I stayed away.”
His words bring me back to the reality of our lives.
I pull back slightly to look at him. “How can you possibly think that?”
“How can you not, zolotaya? I brought death to your door. Our daughter could have seen her first dead bodies courtesy of my visit if we hadn’t gotten them out of the way before she came out of the panic room. Is this what you want for her?”
“For tonight, you’re just Nadia’s dad. You’re my man, and I’m just some woman no one has heard of in an anonymous motel.”
I lie down in the crook of his shoulder and let the questions about who he is and what he does settle softly, tucking them away for another day. I edge closer to him, soaking up the comfort of his arms around me and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as sleep takes me.
Tonight we can be all the things I’ve dreamed of. Even if it’s only for a night.
Chapter Forty
The sound of a backfiring car has me jumping out of my skin. In seconds, I’m off the bed and at the window. The parking lot is quiet in the gray dawn, and the lights of a nearby diner flicker on and off, advertising all-day breakfast.
Turning back to the bed, I look at Kesera’s blond curls, and Nadia’s tiny body huddled on the pull-out bed. They both look so fragile. So easily damaged.
I’m standing with my back to the window when I hear a knock. Dex stands on the landing outside. Opening the door a crack, he gestures with his thumb at the pull-out bed.
“Better wake the kiddo. We’ll head out to get pancakes and bring some back to you in an hour. The two of you stay inside and keep a low profile.” He walks past me to the rumpled bedding that covers my daughter and tickles a foot that’s sticking from beneath the sheets. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead. Pancakes with sausages and syrup wait for no man.”