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I laugh. “We tried that. They cry at the door all night. It breaks my heart.”
“I thought it was the orange one I hated, but Nala turns into a demon at night.”
“It’s Rafiki.” I don’t know why he’s determined to call him ‘the orange one’. “And Nala isn’t a demon. She’s a kitten. They get a little wild at night.”
“She’s going to kill me.”
I tease, “Death by a thousand cuts isn’t so bad.” His glaring eyes meet mine in the mirror as I move in close behind him. “Besides, you’re a tough guy. You can take a scratch or two.”
“A scratch or two? Have you seen my back?”
“Oh, yes.” I take the cloth from him, dabbing at the kitten cut. “It’s a lovely back.”
His eyes snap to mine in the mirror, something other than anger flashing for the first time in the dark depths. We haven’t been intimate, since the cabin. We’ve been home for a week, and nothing. The moment Kirill put his suit back on, I stopped seeing the man I’d been falling for at the cabin, and instead, saw the dark man who’d held me in the cellar.
I’ve been a wreck of emotions. I’m falling for my husband, but I don’t want to fall. I don’t want to hit bottom, because I’m not sure that when I finally land, I’ll survive the collision.
At the cabin, it had been just us. I’d genuinely liked the man he was there. He’d been less intense. Less rough.
Here, although far more polished, he feels so much more distant. I’m not sure how to bridge the gap.
But now, like this, he feels like the man I had at the cabin again. He feels like mine again.
“You like it when I’m all roughed up?” he asks darkly, his voice husky.
Desire flickers in my core. “I think it’s cute how such a sweet little thing can send you over the edge like this.”
“She’s not the only sweet little thing who can send me over the edge.”
That flicker grows. An uncomfortable clench of need pulling at my core. And then, because I can’t help myself, I lean in to press my lips to his cut. “There,” I say. “All better.”
“Not quite.”
I laugh. I can’t help myself. “No?”
“It might need another kiss.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” The word is deliciously rough.
Nala takes that moment to race through the bathroom. She pauses at the end, back arched, hair tufted along her spine as she gives two quick hops on all fours, shooting Kirill a sideways stare down with a puffy tail, to boot.
“Tell me you see that?” Kirill demands. “Demon.”
“Look at it like practice,” I say before I can catch my tongue. “For fatherhood.”
His eyes slam into me, stealing my breath. “Fatherhood?”
I swallow hard, nodding. It’s not like I can back down now, can I? “Sure.”
“You’re thinking of babies?”
“No,” I lie, shrugging. “But practice is practice.”
He raises a brow as he turns slowly to face me. “Tell me, wife, do you think I need practice?”
Why does it feel like I can’t breathe. “Don’t we all?”
