Chapter 26 Noemi
NOEMI
Dinner was incredible. The food was delicious but it was Fyodor's company that made it special. I was shocked when he offered to take me to dinner, and even more so when he stopped to buy me this beautiful dress.
So when we get back to the motel, and Fyodor walks right past the door to our room where Sasha is sleeping, I'm confused and I slow down. He keeps going down the hallway toward the end without missing a beat as I pause a few doors past ours and glance back at it.
"Fyodor, we passed our room."
"I know," he says confidently.
"Where are we going?"
But instead of answering me he stops in front of a different door and pulls out a key card.
His hand isn't steady when he slides it into the lock, and that's when I realize something's going on.
I've seen this man face down armed killers without flinching.
He walked out of that diner after a gunfight like it was nothing, but right now he looks almost nervous.
"Close your eyes," he says as he gestures for me to approach.
"What? Why?" I pad down the hallway quietly, still not sure what's going on, but I take his hand and stand by him.
"Just do it. Please."
Sighing, I reluctantly close my eyes and choose to trust that this is something good. As my eyelids flutter shut I notice his lips curling into a smile, then I feel his warm hand in the small of my back, guiding me forward.
"Careful," he says, and I feel him take my hand but I keep my eyes closed. When he stops me I hear the door click shut behind us and know we're in the room. It's warmer, and there's a lingering scent of heavy perfume in the air, maybe a potpourri or scented candle.
"Alright you can open them now," he says softly so I open my eyes and stop breathing for a second.
There are candles everywhere, dozens of them covering every surface in the room.
The lights are off, but the room is glowing.
Rose petals are scattered across the white bedsheets in deep reds and soft pinks, trailing down onto the carpet and leading from the door to the bed like a little path for us.
"Oh, my," I whisper, admiring every individual flame that dances atop its candle, and then I look up at him in wonder.
He got us a second room and planned all of this romantic atmosphere, maybe while I was using the bathroom at the restaurant or something.
I never saw him take out his phone or make a call, but this was obviously planned out.
And now he's watching me like he's waiting for a verdict and terrified of what it might be.
"You did this?" I squeak, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes but I blink them back.
"I paid the staff to set it up while we were eating." He shoves his hands in his pockets, then takes them out again like he doesn't know what to do with them. "I got us our own room for the night. Lazar and Vasili are staying with Sasha, so we don't have to worry about him."
I don’t even know what to say to this. No man in my entire life has ever done something so romantic and to think that Fyodor's done this to be romantic for me is overwhelming.
It doesn't feel like the sort of thing a mafia hitman even thinks about.
I start to feel weak in the knees as I take a few steps closer to the bed and see an ice bucket with a bottle of wine chilling. It's too much.
"I don't know anything about romance, Noemi," he scratches out with a rough voice. He steps closer and his hands come up to my face, cupping my cheeks, and his eyes are locked on mine.
"But if this is what you like, I'll cover the whole damn world in roses for you. I'll figure out how to do this right. You deserve someone who knows how to make you feel loved. And I want to be that person for you, even if I have to teach myself everything from scratch."
My throat is tight and my eyes are burning and I can't say anything because if I open my mouth I'm going to cry. My bottom lip trembles and I grip the lapels of his jacket and shake my head as I stare into his eyes.
He never had to do any of this to make me appreciate him.
And while this is the most romantic thing in the world, it's not necessary to me.
I would be happy with a hot shower and a good show, cuddling on the couch.
But Fyodor has gone the extra mile. Which only takes my breath away more when he speaks again.
"I love you." He grips my head harder and uses his thumbs to wipe tears from my cheeks.
"I don't know when it happened," he says softly.
"I just know that when I think about going home, I want you there with me.
When I think about Sasha growing up, I see you with him, teaching him, being there for him. You're in everything now, Noemi."
I still can't speak. It's like he's reached into my soul and silenced my inner critic.
My whole life I've thought this sort of romance was only in fairy tales or romance novels.
Yet here I am in a room that very much proves that theory wrong.
And this man holding me so tightly as if I may slip away again and destroy him is slowly becoming the center of my universe too.
"I… I love you too," I whimper, and I rise up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
The breath that leaves his lungs dusts my face and sounds like a tidal wave of relief.
He leans into me, walking me backward until my body presses against the wall and his mouth crashes into mine in a scorching kiss.
Our teeth collide but it doesn't stop him from deepening the kiss and pulling me so tight against him I can feel every ridge and plane of his body.
When he pulls away, he presses his forehead to mine.
"I thought you'd run…"
"Where would I go, Fyodor? You have my heart," I whisper, tipping my chin up to kiss him again. The entire trip has been one disaster after another, but this moment is so perfect it makes up for every bit of it.
The kiss continues, but his hands slide from my face down to my hips where he pulls me against his body harder and reveals how aroused he is. When he starts angling me and backing me toward the bed, my body temperature jumps at least twenty degrees.
We've had sex that was all of our rage and frustration taken out on each other.
And we've had sex that was electric with chemistry.
But knowing this man loves me and that the feeling I've had for him that's been growing for days is reciprocated makes this moment different.
My heart is being irreversibly tied to his, and I don't want anyone to stop it.
"Say it again, please… Tell me…" I'm panting now, heaving for breath which he steals again in another searing kiss as my calves back up to the mattress and our momentum stops.
"I am desperately in love with you, Noemi Dragunova.
I will not live another day without you knowing that.
And I'm gonna fuck it up," he says, reaching for the zipper of my dress.
"And I'm going to make mistakes and probably let you down, but every day for the rest of my life I'm going to try to be a better man than the day before. "
"God," I moan as his teeth sink into my neck. For a man who knows so little about romance, he's definitely hitting the right buttons right now.
His hands trail over my hips, inching the dress upward until the skirt is bunched around my waist, and I lift my arms to allow him to pull it up and over my head.
For a brief moment our bodies separate, but our eyes stay locked until the blue fabric is puddled on the ground and Fyodor's hands are on me again.
His fingers trace the straps of my bra, sliding them down my shoulders so slowly it makes my skin prickle. The lace slips away and my breasts spill free. His eyes go dark and hungry while he kneads them.
"Look at you," he rasps. His palms cup me, thumbs circling my nipples until they pebble. "You're so fucking beautiful, Noemi. Every single inch." I whimper as he pinches a nipple and then sucks it into his mouth slowly before sinking lower.
He lowers to his knees, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my ribs, across the soft swell of my stomach. "This skin is so soft," he murmurs against me, tongue dipping into my navel. I gasp and thread my fingers into his hair. "I could spend hours just tasting you here."
His hands slide lower until his fingers hook into the sides of my panties and he peels them down, inch by agonizing inch, kissing every new strip of skin he uncovers—my hip bones, the sensitive crease where thigh meets body.
"These legs," he breathes against my inner thigh, before scraping my sensitive skin with his teeth.
"They belong wrapped around my waist—around my head. "
The fabric drops to my ankles. I step out, trembling. I think he may splay me out on this bed right now and devour me, but he rises slowly, hands gliding up the backs of my calves, my thighs, until he grips my hips and pulls me naked against himself.
This time when his lips meet mine it's hungry and raw. His hands roam my body and squeeze my ass, and a growl rumbles up from his chest. My skin is heated, my core pulsing and aching for his touch, and all I can think about is how incredible he is in this moment.
"Lie down," he says gruffly, giving me a gentle push. I fall backward and land with a yelp of surprise, then smile at him and lie back as his hands rise slowly to undo his tie and the buttons of his shirt. Each one opened reveals more of his scared, ink-covered skin.
When he lets the fabric slide down his arms and fall to the floor I feel a rush of arousal shoot to my core. I find myself touching lightly, massaging my clit while his eyes drink me in.
Fyodor's pants are next, joining the growing pile of clothing on the floor as he steps out of his shoes and tugs off his socks, and the minute he pulls his boxers down, I shudder. He's rock hard, and his flushed dick is dripping for me already.