Epilogue Nikolai
FIVE MONTHS LATER
The elevator doors slide open on the penthouse level, and I step into the marble foyer, my shoulders still tight from twenty-four hours of meetings in Chicago. I should’ve stayed longer but I didn’t want to take more than one day away from Holly.
My wife.
My very pregnant wife.
The thought sends a surge of protective instinct through me that I still haven't gotten used to. Five months, and I'm still adjusting to the reality that I'm going to be a father.
The door clicks open, and the scent of home hits me immediately.
Not the sterile, cold bachelor pad this place used to be.
Now it smells like Holly. Warm and something sweet I can never quite name.
There are fresh flowers on the console table.
A pair of her shoes kicked off near the door.
A book left open on the arm of the sofa.
Home.
It's a word I never thought would mean anything to me. But that was before her.
"Nikolai?"
Her voice comes from the bedroom, and just the sound of it makes me smile.
"I'm home, solnyshko," I call back.
I barely have time to pull off my tie before she appears in the doorway, and my breath catches the way it always fucking does.
She's wearing one of my dress shirts, white cotton that barely covers her round belly and falls to mid-thigh. Her hair is loose and wild around her shoulders. Her cheeks are pink. And those big brown eyes lock onto me with an intensity that goes straight to my groin.
"I missed you," she says, closing the distance between us.
"I was only gone a day."
"That's twenty-four hours too long."
She reaches me and slides her hands up my chest, her fingers finding my collar. The swell of her belly presses against me, and I can feel our son moving inside her.
Our son.
My family.
"Hello, malyshka," I start, but she cuts me off with a kiss that steals whatever thought I had.
Her mouth is hot and demanding, her tongue sweeping against mine with a hunger that makes my head spin. Her hands work at my shirt, unbuttoning it with practiced efficiency.
When she breaks the kiss, she's breathing hard, her eyes dark with desire.
"Bedroom. Now."
Christ, I love this woman.
She tugs me by the shirt toward the bedroom, and I follow like a man under a spell. Which, fuck it, maybe I am. She's had me under her spell since the moment I saw her outside the gallery a year and a half ago.
The bedroom is dimly lit, soft lamplight casting golden shadows across the bed. She pushes me down onto the mattress with more force than I expected, and I let her because the sight of her taking control does things to me.
"I like it when you can’t keep your hands off me," I say, my voice rough.
"I’ve been aching for you since you left." She straddles my thighs, her hands working at my belt. "You know I can’t get enough of you right now. And you've been gone a whole twenty-four hours."
"Terrible timing on my part."
"Agreed."
She gets my belt open and works at my zipper, freeing my cock with an efficiency that makes me grin. I'm already hard, I have been since she appeared in that fucking shirt, but when she wraps her hand around me and strokes, I get harder.
"Fuck," I hiss.
She smiles, wicked and knowing. "I've been thinking about this all day."
Then she leans down and takes me into her mouth.
Holy fuck.
The heat. The wet suction. The way her mouth works up and down my cock. I fist the sheets beneath me and fight the urge to thrust into her throat.
"Holly," I groan. "Solnyshko, you're going to make me come."
She hums and the vibration sends shockwaves through me.
I thread my fingers through her hair, anchoring myself as she takes me apart with her mouth.
When I'm on the edge, when I'm seconds from losing control, she pulls back. Her lips release me with a wet pop, and I nearly growl with frustration.
"Not yet," she says, her voice thick with desire. "I want you inside me when you come."
She stands and strips off my shirt, revealing her naked body beneath. Nine months pregnant, and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever fucking seen. Her breasts are fuller, her belly round and tight with our son. Her skin glows in the lamplight.
I’m so in love with her. So fucking crazy for her.
She climbs back onto the bed, straddling me again. Her hand guides my cock to her entrance, and then, fuck, she sinks down onto me in one smooth motion.
We both groan.
"Bozhe moy," I breathe. "You feel so good."
She's tight and wet and perfect, and the way she's taking me, riding me with her hands braced on my chest, is enough to make me lose my goddamn mind.
Her hips rock against me, slow at first, then faster. She rides me with a desperation that matches my own, her breath coming in short gasps. I grip her hips and help guide her movements.
"Nikolai," she moans. "Oh God, Nikolai."
"That's it, solnyshko. Ride my cock. Take what you need."
Her head falls back, her hair cascading down her back. The sight of her like this—pregnant with my child and lost in pleasure as she rides my cock—is almost too much.
I slide one hand up her body to cup her breast, my thumb brushing over her nipple. She cries out, her soaked pussy clenching around me.
"So close," she pants. "I'm so close."
I shift my hips, changing the angle, and she shatters.
Her orgasm crashes through her, her body trembling as she cries out my name. The sight and feel of her coming undone sends me over the edge. I grip her hips and thrust up into her, finding my own release with a growl that's torn from somewhere deep inside me.
We stay like that for a moment, both breathing hard, her body still joined with mine.
Then she collapses forward onto my chest, careful of her belly, and I wrap my arms around her.
"Welcome home," she murmurs against my neck.
I smile and press a kiss to her temple. "Best welcome home I've ever had."
A short time passes and we decide to take a shower together.
For a moment, we just stand there under the water, letting it wash away the sweat and the heat of what we just did.
Then I reach for the soap and lather my hands.
"Turn around," I say softly.
She does and I begin to wash her. My hands glide over her shoulders, down her spine, across the curves of her hips. I take my time, savoring every inch of her skin beneath my palms.
"That feels amazing," she murmurs.
"Good."
When I'm done with her back, she turns to face me, and I repeat the process on her front. Her neck. Her collarbone. The swell of her breasts. I'm gentle with her belly, my soapy hands tracing the taut skin where our son grows.
"I love you," she says quietly, her eyes meeting mine.
The words still hit me like a punch to the chest. Every single time.
"I love you too, solnyshko. More than anything."
She takes the soap from me and returns the favor, washing me with the same care. Her small hands map the planes of my chest, the ridges of my abs, the scar where I took a bullet for her.
She always lingers there.
"I'm glad you're home," she says.
"Me too."
When we're both clean, when the soap has been rinsed away, I sink to my knees in front of her. The water beats down on my back as I press a kiss to her round belly.
"Hello, little one," I murmur against her skin.
I feel him move beneath my lips, a flutter of motion that makes my chest ache.
"He knows your voice," Holly says, her hand threading through my wet hair.
"Good." I press another kiss to her belly, lower this time. "I can't wait to meet you. Can't wait to hold you. To protect you."
Holly smiles. "You're going to be an amazing father."
"I'm going to try."
I kiss her belly one more time, then rise to my feet. We stand there under the spray, her in my arms, and I think about how much my life has changed in a year and a half.
How it went from empty and cold and bloody, to having a home with a wife and a son on the way.
How the fuck did I get this lucky?
"I'm going to get out," I say finally. "You coming?"
She shakes her head. "I want a bit longer. My back is aching. The hot water helps."
I frown. "You sure? I can stay."
"I'm fine. I'll just be a few minutes."
I step out of the shower and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist. I dry off quickly, my eyes still on Holly through the glass. She has her eyes closed, her head tipped back under the spray, one hand pressed to the small of her back.
I'm standing in our walk-in robe, half-dressed when I hear her voice.
"Nikolai."
I walk back to the bathroom. Holly is standing just outside the shower, a towel wrapped around her body. Her eyes are wide and she’s smiling.
"What do you need, malyshka?"
She looks down at the floor, then back up at me.
"My water just broke."
For a moment, I just stare at her.
Then reality slams into me.
She’s in labor.
“Let’s get you to the hospital.”
She nods, her hand gripping the towel tighter.
I move on autopilot and dress quickly. I grab a sweatshirt for Holly and a pair of soft pants. I help her dress, my hands steady even though my mind is spinning.
I pause to cup her face. To take a calm moment with her.
"Are you in pain?" I ask.
"Not yet. It’s just a little pressure."
“Are you doing okay?”
She nods. “I’m excited.”
We share a smile. And something warm and meaningful passes between us.
Because our two is about to become three.
I leave her to collect the hospital bag she packed weeks ago.
"Nikolai."
I look at her, and she's smiling with tears in her eyes.
"We're having a baby," she says.
The words hit me all over again, and this time I can't stop the smile that breaks across my face.
"We're having a baby," I repeat.
Our son.
He's coming.
I take her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles. "Let's go meet our boy.’