Chapter 20 Anika
ANIKA
My pulse leaps at the intensity in Miko’s eyes. There’s anger in their blue depths, but it doesn’t feel like it’s directed at me.
Instead, it’s a righteous anger, almost as if he’s furious on my behalf. But I don’t know that I can trust it.
I’m still waiting for my punishment.
Now that he’s stopped my feet from bleeding, he’ll want to give me a reason not to try running again.
I can feel the tension igniting the air between us.
My breaths quicken as I stare into his penetrating gaze, unable to look away.
His voice is gruff, when he speaks, and it raises goosebumps along my spine, but the words are oddly soft.
“Let’s get you ready for bed,” he rasps, reaching for my toothbrush and putting some toothpaste on it before handing it over.
Only after I start to brush does he do the same for himself.
It’s an oddly intimate act, brushing our teeth at the same time.
I don’t know that Pyotr ever cared to share space during my bedtime routine. And even though it’s just brushing my teeth, I find myself blushing every time our eyes meet.
He waits for me to lean over and spit my toothpaste in the sink before he goes to the other basin to follow suit.
Then he watches, his gaze curious and expectant as I take a makeup cloth and clean my face.
Usually, I have a rather meticulous process of cleansing and creams, but my feet are throbbing, and I don’t really want to stand on them to properly wash my face.
So instead, I splash some cool water on it, washing away the makeup remover.
Then I dig for the conviction to slide off the counter and hobble into the bedroom.
But before I can muster the courage, Miko’s scooping me back into his arms. My heart flip-flops dangerously as he carries me to the bed and sets me down like I weigh nothing.
“Where are your, ah, nightclothes?” he asks, glancing toward the dresser as he tries to pick the right word.
Last night, we never got far enough to put clothes back on, and I smile as I point to the appropriate drawer. “Thank you.” It feels like I’ve said those two words to Miko more in the past twenty-four hours than I did during the entire year of my marriage to Pyotr—and the contrast is stark.
I’m genuinely grateful for Miko’s acts of kindness, and I can’t recall the last time my former husband did something to merit the word.
Pulling a silk tank top and matching blue sleep shorts from the top drawer, Miko brings them over and drops them on the bed beside me.
Then he leans in to grasp the hem of my dress.
My breath catches, my skin warming as he guides the fabric up my thighs, his fingers brushing lightly against me along the way.
Bracing on my palms, I lift my hips, and he pulls the dress higher, bringing it up over my shoulders, arms, and head as I raise my hands to let him.
As I reach behind me to unclasp my bra, he turns his attention to my tank top, getting it ready for me rather than openly staring at my body or turning the moment into a sexual act.
I can see his arousal, though, pressing against the seam of his jeans, and my mouth goes dry as my body responds instinctually.
Heat blossoms in my core, and I press my knees together to hide my excitement, confused by its sudden intensity when he hasn’t even touched me like that.
I hold up my arms once more to let Miko dress me, and a shiver races through me when the soft fabric slithers across my skin.
Is it completely mental that I wish it were his hands?
They’re a hundred times more calloused—and strong enough to steal the breath from my lungs—but for some reason, I crave their roughness.
My pulse quickens when his fingers hook inside the elastic waistline of my panties, and he pulls them slowly down my hips, just like he did last night.
But once the flimsy lace finds the floor, he reaches for my sleep shorts, reversing the process with such chaste discipline, I wonder if maybe I’m imagining his excitement.
I don’t understand what it means.
This careful distance, his gentle touch. It feels so completely foreign, it’s starting to make me anxious.
So, when he straightens and starts to strip his own clothes, I watch, trying to understand what he wants.
Shedding his henley and jeans, Miko gives me one perfect glimpse of his chiseled body.
Then he’s trading out his boxers for a fresh pair before he comes to bed.
A smirk curls the corners of his lips when he catches me watching him.
“Like what you see, topolina?” he teases.
Trapping my lower lip between my teeth, I nod.
With a soft hum, Miko settles onto his side of the bed, then he leans down, carefully snaking one tattoo-covered arm around my waist so he can pull me close.
Hooking his other arm beneath my knees, he brings my legs across his lap, cradling me against his chest as he leans back against the headboard.
The way he holds me feels shockingly safe—and effortlessly protective of my injured feet.
With my ear against his chest, I can hear the strong, steady beat of his heart, and it lulls me into a deceptive calm.
Before I know what I’m doing, I breathe him in deeply, relishing the scent of motor oil and woodsy pine.
It feels safe enough, I can feel the heavy weight of exhaustion starting to sink in. After countless sleepless nights and days upon days of uncertainty and tension, it feels shockingly good to let go.
And for the first time, I think it might be okay to do so.
“It wasn’t your fault, Anika,” Miko murmurs, his voice so soft, I’m not sure I heard him right.
And the haze of exhaustion makes me frown. “Hmm?” I ask, adjusting my cheek against his chest and resting my palm on his sternum to feel his heartbeat as well.
“Pyotr never should have hit you,” he says, his voice stronger now. “There is no excuse for it, and I promise you I never will. I recognize that, in our world, it’s more common, but no man has a right to treat a woman like that. And I hope, in time, you can learn to trust me.”
His words are deeply touching, and my eyes sting with fresh tears as sudden, intense emotion threatens to overwhelm me.
Tipping my head back so I can meet his impossible blue eyes, I find him watching me, his lips shockingly close to mine.
“Thank you,” I breathe, my heart threatening to burst, it’s so full.
Tightening his arm around my shoulders, he pulls me closer to press a kiss to the crown of my head.
It’s a shockingly tender gesture, and when his lips find my temple next, a surge of heat floods my core. I lean into the attention, savoring the way it makes me feel.
His kisses seem entirely innocuous, a display of affection that doesn’t quite feel platonic, but also doesn’t feel like he’s looking for sex.
I close my eyes, soaking up the tingling excitement that ripples through me.
And when he lifts his lips, I tip my chin so the kiss meant for my forehead lands on my lips instead.
That jolt of electricity I get every time our lips meet blasts through me again, and Miko pauses, not pressing me for more, but not pulling back either.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m shocked to realize I want a man to touch me.
I want him to touch me. I want to feel that same pleasure he showed me before.
I’m curious to see if last night was a one-time courtesy on Miko’s part or if that’s just the kind of lover he is.
A man who knows how to make me want him, how to awaken desires I never knew I had.
Slowly, he pulls back, breaking our kiss and leaving my lips tingling in his absence.
His penetrating gaze holds a silent question, and even though I don’t know what it is, I already know my answer.
With a nod, I run my hand slowly up her chest, following the curve of his strong neck to comb my fingers into his soft, dark curls.
And I pull his lips back to mine once more.
Miko hums, the deep sound of appreciation like a live wire connected straight to my core, and when his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open willingly for him.
His kiss isn’t greedy or demanding, it’s not quite so desperate or possessive as it felt last night. But it’s no less sensual or inviting, and it feels dangerously intimate as he takes his time.
Gently, he leans me back onto the bed, curving his body around mine as he cages me protectively against his chest.
With light fingers, he brushes the line of my cheek and jaw, following the curve of my throat.
My breaths come quicker, rushing past my lips and into his mouth as he kisses me and touches me with a tenderness that lights my soul on fire. His hands are almost cautious, as if he’s worried he might hurt or scare me.
And that alone terrifies me, because I’m dangerously close to falling for him. But if I do, that will leave me vulnerable to all kinds of cruelty that I learned long ago to defend against.
Still, as his fingers slip inside the elastic of my shorts, it’s impossible to keep my thoughts straight. I gasp as he brushes against my sex, his fingers dipping between my folds and slowly stroking me.
“You’re so wet, topolina,” he groans against my lips, the sound tortured.
I nod, my fingers tightening in his hair as a wave of pleasure crashes through me.
“Tell me what you want,” he commands, making me shiver.
“I want you to do that tongue thing,” I breathe, scarcely daring to believe my boldness.
Miko releases a dark chuckle that vibrates through my body like an earthquake.
Then, slowly, he slinks beneath the blankets, his wicked eyes twinkling before he vanishes between my thighs.
Strong fingers hook around the waist of my sleep shorts, undoing all the work he just did to dress me for bed.
Then, silky hot wetness closes around my clit, and I arch up off the bed as smoldering excitement blasts through my core.
I cry out, my thighs tightening around his head as his strong fingers press into my thighs.
And when his tongue starts to lave my folds, I nearly come undone.