Chapter 25 Holly
HOLLY
The fire crackles and pops, sending shadows dancing across Nikolai's face as we lie tangled together on the thick rug in front of the hearth.
A blanket is wrapped around us, but it's his body that keeps me warm.
His skin against mine. His fingers tracing lazy patterns along my hip, my ribs, the curve of my breast.
I press my cheek against his chest and listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
"Tell me something," I whisper into the comfortable silence.
His fingers pause their exploration. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything." I tilt my head to look up at him. "Do you have siblings?"
"No. Dmitri is the closest thing I have to a brother…” He trails off, his gaze distant. “My mother wanted more children, but there were complications when she had me, and she couldn’t have any more."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. She poured all her love into me instead." A small smile tugs at his lips. "She gave me enough love for five children."
I smile against his skin. "She sounds wonderful."
"She was." His hand resumes its wandering and those masterful fingertips whisper across my collarbone and down to my breasts. "She used to tell me I'd fill this lodge with children someday. Said it was too big and quiet for just one family."
"And do you want that?"
He's quiet for a long moment. "I always thought I'd have a houseful." His thumb brushes across my nipple. "But the opportunity has never presented itself.”
“Why?”
He pauses, and I feel the tension in his body. "I live a thousand lives as a pakhan. I’m pulled in every direction. It hasn’t left much time to make babies. But I know I have a responsibility."
His thumb circles my nipple, and heat pools low in my belly.
“For what?”
"To provide an heir. For the Bratva. For the bloodline. But now I wonder if it's fair. To bring a child into this life. My son would inherit everything I've built. But also, everything I fight. Every enemy. Every burden. That is a lot to burden someone with."
He rolls my nipple between his fingers, and I arch into his touch, my body responding even as my heart aches for him. For the weight he carries. For the future he's not sure he deserves.
"But they would get to experience all the good things in life too," I say softly. “All the simple little pleasures life gives us.”
“Like what?”
"Their first feel of the sun on their face. The lap of a warm ocean against their toes. Snow on their tongue. Sea salt on their lips." I smile. "Meeting their best friend. Experiencing their first kiss. Falling in love for the first time."
"I've never been in love," he admits in the quiet.
"Never?"
"Never."
"I was. Once." The confession slips out. "When I was in college."
Nikolai's fingers stop rubbing my nipple. "Tell me about it."
"We met in art class and bonded over Picasso and Da Vinci and a thousand cups of black coffee from the campus cafe. We were young and free. Eventually we fell in love."
Nikolai frowns. “And what did love feel like?”
I search for the words. "It was giddiness. And butterflies. And counting the minutes until you see them again when you’ve just said goodbye. Everything reminds you of them. And your heart races just hearing their name."
His jaw tightens. "Why does that make me want to hunt him down and kill him?"
I chuckle, the sound breathy as his fingers brush over my nipple again. "Because you're a possessive monster."
"Yes." His eyes meet mine. "I am."
We’re quiet for a moment.
“So what happened to Mr. Wonderful?” he asks, not even attempting to hide his jealousy.
“Nothing. Our relationship simply petered out. The following year, we had different class schedules. We barely saw one another.” I pause, then add, “Love dies if you don’t feed it.”
Nikolai is quiet. But his fingertips keep moving as he thinks.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“The many different ways I can kill him.”
I laugh. “You really are a jealous guy, huh?”
“Murderously so.”
I can't focus on words anymore. Not with his fingers working their magic on my nipple. Not with his body pressed against mine, all hard and warm and perfect.
Instead of answering, I grab his wrist and guide his hand lower. Between my legs. Where I'm already wet and achy for him.
His eyes darken with hunger as his fingers slide through my wetness.
In one fluid motion, he tosses the blanket aside and lifts me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and feel the hard length of him pressed exactly where I want it to be pressed.
I start to laugh. “What are you doing?”
"Taking you to my bedroom where I’m going to fuck every man from your memory," he says against my mouth. "And I’m going to keep fucking you until no one else exists but me."