Chapter 35 #2
Later, I find Evgeny upstairs taking off his watch. He looks at me in the mirror, and I cross the room without finding an excuse. My arms go around his waist from behind. Through the thin cotton of his shirt, I can feel his warmth against my cheek.
I stay there long enough to hear him breathe before he turns toward me.
“Come here.”
I’m close already, but I move nearer. His kiss begins gently, one hand against my face. When he pauses, I draw him toward the bed so he won’t have to guess what I want from him.
“I want you.”
He looks at me before kissing me again. There’s no phone turned down on a table, no part of the afternoon I’m hoping he won’t ask about. I can meet his eyes without deciding what to leave out.
We undress each other slowly. I open his shirt, feeling the warmth beneath each button, then let him ease mine down my arms. He keeps the sleeve loose around the tender place on my right arm.
By the time the rest of our clothes are beside the bed, I’m smiling at how long we’ve taken to move such a short distance.
He sits back on the mattress and draws me into his lap. My knees rest on either side of his hips, his hands steadying me as I settle. I kiss him again, close enough to feel his answer in the way he holds me.
“I need you,” I tell him.
He guides himself to me as I rise. I’m already wet, and when he eases inside, the thick stretch makes me breathe out against his mouth.
My left hand rests at his shoulder, my right low against his side.
I sink down until he fills me, then stay still with my forehead against his, feeling him throb while I adjust.
His breath warms my lips. I like being able to look at him this closely, to see his attention stay with me as I begin to move.
I ride him in slow, deep rolls, taking him fully before rising again.
One hand strokes up my back while the other steadies my waist. His hips lift to meet mine, and the next stroke makes me gasp.
“Evgeny.”
“I’ve got you.” He kisses my throat, then lowers his mouth to my breast, sucking until my left hand tightens at his shoulder. “Stay with me.”
I rock onto him again, following the movement that gives me most pleasure. His hand slides between us, and when his thumb finds my clit I come with a quiet sob, clenching around him. He holds me through it, his mouth returning to mine while I tremble in his lap.
When I can move again, he helps me lift away from him.
I turn along the bed and lie back against the pillows, keeping my right arm close.
He follows, settling between my thighs with his weight on his forearms. I reach for him with my left hand as he guides himself inside again, then wrap my legs around him, wanting him closer.
He fucks me with long strokes that move us against the sheets. Between kisses, I find myself smiling up at him. There’s time to feel each movement, the warmth of his mouth and the growing pleasure that makes my fingers tighten against his back.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs.
“Yours. Don’t stop.”
He keeps moving until I’m trembling again. The second orgasm catches me with a cry against his neck, and he comes while I’m still holding him, his cock pulsing as he spills inside me. I feel the heat of it and press my mouth to his shoulder, staying close while our breathing slows.
He kisses my temple, then the corner of my mouth. I move my hand into his hair, surprised by the tears in my eyes. I’ve missed feeling this easy beside him. There are things we’re still learning to say, but I don’t have to hide the tears or invent a reason for them when he brushes one away.
After he eases out, we settle on our sides beneath the sheet. His hand rests at my waist, then moves over my stomach. Seven babies are growing there. The thought still seems too large for the small space beneath his palm, and I cover his hand with mine.
For a while, I listen to his breathing and let myself enjoy where I am. The message is on my phone downstairs, with the reply I chose to send. When I think of it now, I can remember handing him the screen instead of rehearsing an explanation he hasn’t asked for.
I tip my face toward his and kiss him once more.
“Thank you for staying with me,” I whisper.
His smile answers against my mouth. “Always.”
He brushes hair away from my mouth. “Hungry?”
“Again. You’re coming with me.”
He smiles and reaches for the shirt at the foot of the bed. I take it from him as I sit up. It hangs almost to my knees, and the way he looks at me makes me leave the buttons a little crooked.
He puts on his trousers and takes a clean shirt from the wardrobe. I wait while he fastens it, then we go downstairs with our fingers linked. In the breakfast room, the outer petals of the roses have begun to lift away from their tight centers. I move the vase into the middle of the table.
There’s bread in the kitchen. I find butter and cheese while Evgeny takes down plates, then follow him back to the table with more than I thought I wanted.
He returns for water and two glasses while I divide the food between us.
I leave him the thicker piece of cheese, then change my mind and cut it in half.
By the time he sits down, I’ve started on my bread.
His cuff catches against the wrapping paper when he clears it from beside the vase. I reach to help, and he frees it himself, giving me a look that makes me smile over the bread.
“I haven’t damaged anything.”
“I know. I was remembering the ribbon.”
He glances at the flowers. “That was a difficult assignment.”
I laugh and push his plate toward him. There’s butter against my lip, and I’m hungry enough to reach for another slice.
I eat, content to let him watch me enjoy what I chose.
Between us, the roses leave room for both plates.
I turn one small leaf away from the edge of his glass, then take his hand across the table.