34. The one where she said, “I’ll love you forever.”
THIRTY-FOUR
THE ONE WHERE SHE SAID, “I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER.”
A soft finger traces shapes on my back.
My nose wrinkles at being disturbed but I scent him, us, and while I heave a sigh at being woken up, I find myself utterly satisfied by my location.
It’s a delicious juxtaposition.
The very best kind.
His cock’s no longer inside me, which is a shame, but we didn’t move in the middle of the night. I slept like this—held firmly in his arms—and it’s so comfortable.
Man, it’s going to suck when I have to sleep without him.
“Breakfast, zaya?”
“Will I never be your minx again?”
He snorts. “You’re always my koketka.”
I squirm then hiss when a wave of soreness makes itself known to me. “How can it hurt when I just lay there and let you do all the work?”
His amusement has me pinching his side. “It’s new.”
“More like audacious.”
“We have plenty of time to get you addicted to coming around my cock.”
My cheeks instantly burn with heat. “I couldn’t.”
“Last night?”
I nod.
“You were too tired.” He tsks. “You have to push me, don’t you?”
I bite his shoulder. “Yes.”
He squeezes my ass but doesn’t chide me. I’m almost sad that he doesn’t. Then, I’m not. And we just lie there. Sleepy and dozing and together.
It’s actually rather lovely.
“You didn’t ask if I was on birth control.”
“You are on the shot.”
I bite him again. “Stalker.”
Less lovely.
“Your stalker.”
“Isn’t bribing a doctor illegal?”
“Bribing anyone is illegal,” he dismisses.
“Jerk.”
“Your jerk. I had to make sure you were receiving the best medical care.”
“If you dig that hole any deeper, we’ll be honeymooning in Australia. You’re lucky that I’m used to having zero privacy.”
When my stomach growls, he buries his nose in my hair. “I’m sorry, katyonok.”
“You’re not forgiven.” I’m not that annoyed. Honestly, I figured he had to know. No way would he let me get pregnant in our current situation.
“One day?”
“One day.”
“What do you want to eat?” he asks into my huffy silence.
“Everything.”
“Helpful.”
“We’re in the city that never sleeps. If I need everything then surely it’s available somewhere.” I giggle when he groans. “Fine, avocado toast, please. Oooh, with a poached egg. Oooooh, and white sourdough from Aunt Aoife’s bakery! Oh, and does your cook know how to prepare kasha?”
“Does she know how to prepare kasha?” he scoffs. “Would I have hired her if she didn’t?”
Laughing, I wiggle against him. “I didn’t take you for an oatmeal kinda guy.”
“Oatmeal is for pussies. Kasha is for men.”
“Your grandmother told you that as she forced it down your gullet?”
“Every morning. God, hers used to taste of wallpaper paste. Give her a recipe, any recipe, and she could replicate the results to perfection. But kasha?” He mock-gags. “It took the realization that I can work out without it draining my energy levels to make me eat it again.”
“I like it with millet. And mushrooms. Camille always retches when I ask her to cook it for me.”
“I should have known you were a tsaritsa—”
“Hey! Can I help that my family loves to spoil me? And… Mama taught her. She’s the only one who can make it Mama’s way.”
Gaze softening, he settles his hand on my stomach. It’s big and warm and ohh, cue shivers. “I’ll spoil you.”
I fidget, hoping he’ll lower it. “Better than them?”
“You know it. In fact… are you going back to school today? Or staying here?”
I think about my responsibilities and studies. “I don’t want to.”
“I can hear that you know you need to.”
“Stop reading between my lines.”
“I was born to read your book, Victoria.”
My lips curve but that doesn’t stop me from wiggling in delight. “I may go back today. It’s my shift at Annenburg for Heat N Go.”
“I have a task for you before you leave.”
“What kind of task?” I ask warily. “It’s not Veronian-shaped, is it?”
He barks out a laugh. “Definitely not. Do you still have that credit card on you?”
“Yeah, it’s linked to my phone.”
“Good. I want you to make sure there is a soft surface in every single room of this house and the one in Poughkeepsie.”
Heat instantly floods me. “Why?”
“You know why.”
Sparks combust in my core. “Every single room?”
“Yes.”
“That could be expensive.”
“You have an unlimited budget.”
“I do?” I croak.
“I take my tsaritsa’s comfort very seriously.”
“I’ll say.” My eyes grow round. “Every room?”
“Yes, zaya. Every room.”
“The mudroom?”
He snorts. “There’s a bench. You’ll just have to be without pillows if I fuck you in there.”
I lick my lips. “Okay, then. How long do I have?”
“A week for each property.”
“But I’ll be in Poughkeepsie more than here!”
“Thanksgiving is approaching.”
My mind races. “If I search sex furniture online, something’ll come up, right?”
He laughs. “Something will for sure.”
I shove him but figure that’s what I’ll have to do.
Unless…
“What if I have to get custom pieces built because the stuff on sale is tacky or I don’t like it?”
“Then you get custom pieces built.”
“That’ll take longer than a week.”
“Then it’ll take longer than a week.”
“I like this idea.”
“I figured you would.” I don’t even care that his tone’s indulgent.
At this point, I’m used to it. “Now, when you decide you have enough confidence to explore more, you can. If you never want to explore, you also can. Whatever you need, kotik, we’ll work it out.
But I will fuck you in every room of our houses. ”
“Is that fair to you?”
His chuckle is like chocolate cake wrapped in chocolate and dipped in chocolate chips. Dark and unctuous and sinful. “I decide what’s fair for me. But I know what I like. You are very new to this and don’t know what you like outside of fantasies and porn.”
“You don’t watch porn, do you?”
“I’ve used my fist for three years straight, Victoria. What do you think?”
I wriggle against his hold so I can flip over. “I don’t want you to watch it anymore.”
“If I don’t, then you don’t either.”
“Done.”
“That was easy and nothing about you is ever that.”
I love that his tone’s suspicious. I press a kiss to his pec before I bite it. Hard. He doesn’t even grunt, which is very annoying. So I grace him with another and another and another.
His hand tangles in my hair, not to stop me though. “Staking a claim, katyonok?”
“Living up to my nickname.”
“Sounds about right.” His fingers stroke through my locks as I mark him. “I have a present for you.”
“You do?” Delighted, I stop biting him. He laughs then reaches for his nightstand and retrieves a box. “Can I?”
“Seeing as you asked nicely, yes.”
I snatch it from his hand, open the lid, and then gasp. “Aren’t these for when you’re married over a certain amount of time?”
The eternity band is elegantly slimline with emerald-cut diamonds. Studded with enough of their beauty that it glitters like a disco ball.
He snags my hand and settles it on my left ring finger. “You bite me, and I buy you rings.”
I smirk. “I like your way better.”
“I thought you might.”
As I lift my hands to study how, with both rings, he’s satisfied Russian and American cultural traditions, he states, “Tell me when you’re going to visit your family today and I’ll schedule time to—”
“No. I’ll handle them on my own.”
“Not a chance.”
“Yes. They’ll huff and puff and try to blow your house down. Well, it’s my house now and I’m not letting anyone blow it over. You don’t need my protection from them, but if you’re there, there’ll be posturing and honestly, I don’t have any patience for that—”
It’s like I wished it on myself.
Sheesh.
A tap sounds on the door and Maxim stiffens. “I told you not to disturb me.”
A meek voice mumbles, “Your wife’s family’s here, sir. They’re insisting they see her.”
I groan. “Nooooo.”
“Do you want breakfast?”
“Of course.” My head pops up and I shout, “Come in!”
“Victoria,” he growls, covering me with the duvet until I have to fight to see over it.
“A bit much, Maxim, no?” I grumble as a woman peeps around the door.
Then, to her, I beam a smile that has her eyes widening.
“Can you make breakfast, please? Tea. Lots of it. Is Inessa there? Young woman? Just starting to show?” At the soft nod, I ask, “Do you have decaf? Then decaf. Lots of it. Oh, and blinis. Caviar? Good. That’ll shut them both up.
” To Maxim, I explain, “They’ve never seen a fish egg they can’t devour. It’ll break their concentration.”
“Anything else, ma’am?”
I grimace at the moniker but murmur, “Are there men?”
“No.”
“Oh, good. They must have locked them up back at home then.” Happily, I declare, “Please make food fast though. It’ll save me so much grief. And if you can throw in some millet kasha with mushrooms, I’ll love you forever.”
The maid, still a touch wide-eyed, fades away, leaving a disgruntled Maxim studying me.
“Hey! You’re the one who wanted to be around for the big reveal. At least there’ll be no posturing. I can’t stand posturing on an empty stomach.” When he keeps on scowling at me, I roll my eyes. “What is it?”
His jaw works but whatever he’s bottling up, he releases on a grunt. “I’m going to shower.”
When he rolls off the bed, that whole little, cozy scene we had going on disintegrates to dust and leaves me pouting.
I know we had to get out of bed eventually, but he’s mad at me.
How is he mad at me?
I was the stuffing in a feather comforter burrito roll for him!
Irritated, I clamber out from between the sheets and head into the closet.
Something tells me Maxim didn’t want me to follow him into his bathroom… and I’m not sure why that hurts.