Her laughter sounds like a line from my favorite song.
I work the warm oil down her hips and thighs, kneading the tension from her calves until she falls quiet. The soft sounds of pleasure she makes test every ounce of my concentration.
“I really am sorry,” she whispers after a long silence. “I promise this is the last time I’ll get involved with those men. I just… I hate feeling useless, like some trophy wife sitting around waiting.”
“I know,” I murmur, leaning down to press my lips to her forehead. “Though I need you to understand—there’s nothing wrong with being a trophy wife when you’re the only trophy I’ve ever wanted.” I linger there for a few seconds before pulling back with a soft smile. “We’re done with this conversation. You need to rest.”
Her head turns to follow me as I move away from the bed. “Where are you going?”
“I just want to take a quick shower,” I say. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” she murmurs sleepily.
I step into the bathroom and turn the water as hot as it will go. I scrub fast, washing away the sweat and grime of the day, trying to wash away the fear still clinging to my bones. The image of her tracking signal disappearing while I tore Moscow apart looking for her—that will haunt me for a long time. I dry off quickly and head back to the bedroom.
She’s still awake, lying flat on her back under the covers, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I ask softly.
She lifts the edge of the blanket to invite me inside. "I want to cuddle with you."
I raise an eyebrow. “You only want to cuddle because you’re trying to get back in my good graces.”
“That’s not true,” she protests. “I just want you to hold me. Today was terrifying.”
“I know. You were shaking when you got home.”
I slip into bed and pull her close. We’re both naked beneath the sheets. I tuck her back against my chest, my arm wrapping around her waist so my hand settles over her belly. She weaves her legs between mine and sinks into me, then freezes.
“Your stuff is poking me.”
“Yours is poking me too.”
I press closer, hips flush against her back. She grinds her ass against me in response, the movement dragging my hand across her ass.
Chapter 43
Zoya
“Maybe we should just poke each other tonight,” I suggest.
Alexei stares at me with confusion. “Why in the world are we talking about sex that way?” he asks. “Calling it poking is just weird.”
“Well, you have a poker, and I also have a poker,” I point out. “We should use them together right now. I enjoy it when we do.”
Alexei shakes his head with a small smile. “Are you asking me to fuck you?”
“Yes, let’s just fuck and make up,” I reply.
“The phrase is kiss and make up,” he corrects me. “This is why I warned you to avoid politics and journalism. You need to focus on celebrity news instead. You are behind the times. Everyone knows the correct saying.”
I let out a soft laugh. His cock presses against my thigh. The thick head smears sticky precum across my bare skin every time he shifts his weight. The hot trail makes my pussy throb with need, yet this man is giving me a vocabulary lesson.
“Fine, we can kiss and make up,” I agree. “Just please touch me already.”
His hand slides down my stomach before his fingers begin tracing the inside of my thigh. His touch remains light and gentle. He circles his fingers across my skin, avoiding the exact spot where I ache for him.
“Alexei,” I whisper with need in my voice.
“What is it?” he murmurs while pressing a warm kiss to my shoulder.