Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Kirill
I watched my excited wife’s sexy ass for two seconds before she covered it with her coat. She was a contradiction. An amazing contradiction and she was all mine. I poured coffee into the preheated mugs and handed one to Lucy.
Her brows furrowed. “You’re not wearing a coat?”
“Didn’t we have this conversation before?”
“We had heaters, and it had been fifty degrees. This is like thirty-two outside, right at freezing.”
“I should take you to Siberia,” I murmured.
“No, thanks. Okay, then, if you’re going to act all macho.
” She was in a good mood. I found myself watching her all the time.
Anticipating her needs. Anticipating her moods.
Every frown, every smile, every mischievous glint in her eye.
I loved it when she was happy and when she seemed to be in the process of solving a problem.
I had a wife who picked locks. She wanted to put criminals like me away; well, she was a bit criminal herself.
She was just in denial. There was still the Chloe business we needed to discuss and how it affected the bratva.
I was finding out now, I didn’t want to disappoint my wife anymore.
It almost felt like it hurt me more than it did her.
I didn’t know what was happening to me or how my world was shifting.
I followed her outside to a porch swing. The sun was peeking out on the horizon.
“I love the fall sun,” Lucy said as she sipped her mug. She was holding it with both hands as if trying to warm up.
I leaned back nonchalantly, starting the swing of the hanging seat.
My mind returned to her question of why I hadn’t wanted the anesthesia at first. It had left me with a concerning insight into my actions.
I didn’t even care about how I acted in front of De Lucci.
It was that Trevor guy. I didn’t want to act weak in front of him.
I was coming to the conclusion that A) I was, indeed, finally experiencing a feeling called jealousy, and B) Kolya had called it, I was getting attached to my wife, and C) It didn’t matter now.
I wasn’t afraid. I faced death at the hands of my wife.
Therefore, my life belonged to her as hers belonged to me.
Fuck if that was logical, but I was illogical when it came to Lucy. That much I admitted to myself.
It sealed her fate to me. I was compelled and driven by a singular objective of making sure she would never leave me.
No divorce.
Quite a one-eighty from my ambivalence until a week ago.
That decision crystallized in my head as we neared the cabin.
Other than the mild throbbing in my shoulder, it was my new, devious plan that made me fall silent in the vehicle.
I’d even had fantasies of keeping Lucy locked here.
Unhinged, I know. But I’d never felt this type of obsessive possessiveness before.
It was like a drug, sparking my blood on fire and everything logical went up in flames.
“You know, for someone who seemed intent on a mountain vacation, you’re going to miss the fantastic view if you don’t stop staring at me.”
“I like staring at you. My wife is more beautiful than any other view.”
She tipped her chin my way. Her eyes caught fire in the first golden light. They were multifaceted brown, as multifaceted as her personality. Even with a lack of sleep, she was stunning.
I wasn’t sure if my recent epiphanies were because of blood loss or my sudden brush with my mortality.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“In case you missed it, it’s not because it’s a vacation. It’s because I wanted to spend time with you and get to know you. Is that so wrong, hmm? No Sorcha. No Sato. No servants. Just us.”
“I’m not sure you thought this through. I haven’t seen you cook, and all I know how to make is grilled cheese and tomato soup.”
Was now the time to remind her I had survived in the Russian wilderness when I was a boy of barely ten? Of course I cooked. Nothing fancy. But I had the ingredients to make a goulash. Which reminded me I needed to haul in more provisions.
“I like grilled cheese, but we have breakfast we could microwave. Don’t worry, Lusenka, you will not starve.” Especially since I’d been keeping tabs on her eating habits.
She laughed and turned her attention back to the sunrise.
Meanwhile, I enjoyed my own stunning view.
And for the first time since I could remember, I appreciated silent companionship.
I was still indifferent to genuinely enjoying the colors of the sunrise, so my gaze traveled the line of the property, assessing its security.
Thick woods separated us from our next neighbor, but with winter coming, wildlife tended to show up around these parts.
The hunting season had also begun, but I wasn’t expecting any lost hunters to wander around.
I had a rifle in the truck and my pistols on me.
The cabin also had a cellar with a stash of weapons.
Thirty minutes later, Lucy microwaved a few breakfast burritos while I hauled in the rest of the stuff.
My gunshot wound was a mere inconvenience.
I’d been shot in worse places, where convalescing wasn’t even an option.
Besides, I had to prove to Lucy that I was physically capable of other fun activities.
That we hadn’t slept last night caught up with my wife, and she didn’t even try to disguise several yawns after eating the burrito. She was a night owl. I had only to remember how she kept up during the poker games I forced her to endure with me.
As for me, I was wired. I was used to operating on minimal sleep.
“There are two bedrooms,” I told her.
She shrugged. “I need to check on your wound.”
“Tell you what…I’ll let you check my wound if we shower together.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes.
“After all, you caused said injury.” I raked my bottom lip with my teeth. “Remember I said, we’ll talk about this later.”
“Is ‘now’ later?”
I prowled toward her. Not touching her, but close enough to throw her off with my intentions. Seemed I still liked to play mind games with my wife. “What do you think?”
Her throat bobbed. “Not until I check your stitches.”
“My stitches are fine.”
“If we’re going to shower, I need to attach that waterproof dressing Sloane gave us.”
I didn’t answer. I merely extended an arm to motion her into the bathroom. My retribution had started. Lucy was aware. Very aware that the vibe between us had shifted from domesticated companionship to predator/prey. Her eyes darted around the cabin as if looking for the exits.
A silent laugh vibrated in my chest even as the wave of possessive lust flooded my veins, making me realize I’d been keeping a tight leash on it ever since Lucy shot me.
Obsession with my wife and the outrage that she sought another man’s help to enable her escape, fueled my reckless lack of planning when I stormed into Chloe's house and had gotten myself shot.
It was embarrassing, really. Lucy was my weakness.
I needed a semblance of control. Did I feel guilty for using her guilt to manipulate her?
Hell no. Manipulation was an intrinsic part of my personality.
I wasn’t blind to my wife’s attempt to manage me either.
It humored me. It showed me we were evenly matched.
But in the bedroom, I intended to dominate.
I crowded her into the bathroom. It was a double sink Irina insisted on when they were renovating the cabin.
There were only two bedrooms because it wasn’t intended for extended family vacations.
More couple-type getaways, and the second bedroom was there in case Irina got mad at Ivan during their getaway.
It amused me before, but it wasn’t amusing to me now if Lucy did the same.
We’d freshened up after our sunrise interlude, and Lucy’s side of the counter was…
messy. “I was sure I put it in here.” She shuffled through a plastic bag behind her, blowing her hair that got into her face.
She was sweating, and I was certain she was flustered.
Good. Because I was hard. So fucking hard, it felt like I was ready to pound nails.
I leaned a hip against the counter, surveying her with amusement. My eyes fell on the bandage she was looking for. It was under her frilly pouch.
After watching her for a few more seconds, I pinched the bandage and held it up for her. “You’re looking for this?”
Twin spots of pink already dotted her cheeks. She was on her knees, breathing heavily when she looked up and spied what I was holding in my hand. Her brows cinched as she filched the item from me.
“Yes.”
I shrugged off my dress shirt and glowered at the gauze covering my traps. It pulsed like a motherfucker. “It’s fine.”
“Let me clean around it first.” Lucy started mumbling to herself. She was looking for the disinfectant wipes. I indulged in my wife’s care even when she was running around like a headless chicken.
She smiled timidly as I stared down the side of her face. The sounds in the bathroom were just the crinkle of the wrapper and her hitched breathing. Perspiration dotted her forehead. She pressed around it. “It doesn’t appear swollen.”
I chuffed a brief laugh. My face didn’t reflect the impatience of my cock that wanted to be inside her. “I can tell you what else is swollen.”
She didn’t respond but concentrated on affixing the waterproof bandage.
“Are you feeling hot?” I asked innocently.
“There, all done,” she announced brightly. She was about to leave the bathroom, but I ensnared her wrist. “Now, let’s talk about restitution.”
Her throat bobbed. “What do you want?”
I tilted my head at the shower. “You…in there with me.”
“What else?”
“It would entail getting naked, of course.” I smirked at her. “You on your knees.”
She inhaled sharply, and her face went tomato red.
“You’re blushing,” I murmured in her ear. “Wait till you turn beet red while you choke on my cock.”