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His eyes drift over my face. “Not you. You’d make a wonderful mother as you are.”
I swear, my ovaries do a happy dance that I shut down firmly. Still, I hear myself say, “And you would make a wonderful father.” After a pause, I add, “With some practice.”
“Well.” He crowds me, his hands finding my hips before I can take a step back to escape. “I guess it’s a good thing we have Nala, then, isn’t it?”
Before I can answer, he’s taking my mouth in a kiss that steals every last breath I have in my lungs. Then, he’s lifting me onto the vanity, spreading my legs and moving quickly to fill the space. Instantly, my body responds. Heat wicks at my core, my breasts grow heavy and achy with need. My skin feels sensitive everywhere.
“I need to be inside you,” he murmurs. “It’s been too long.”
It really has, but I can’t seem to find the words I need to speak. It’s no matter, because his hands are already tearing at the buttons of his shirt I wear. It doesn’t take long before I’m bared to him, before he pulls my panties from my body, shoving his hand down the front of his briefs to tug his erection free. I gasp at the sight of his tip, already slick with precum, before he lines it up with my entrance, and pushes in.
I cry out at the fullness of his intrusion, clinging to him as he moves. A sound of relieved release escapes the depths of his lungs. It’s enough to ignite a fire of need within me that only he can sate.
It’s a desperate coming together, but it’s not violent like I thought it would be. His thrusts are deep, but they are slow, intentional. His kisses are long, but they are soft. His hands roam my body everywhere, the need to touch and claim a physical thing neither of us possess the power to deny.
“You’ve been keeping yourself from me,” he says as he thrusts. “I don’t like it.”
“I miss you.”
“You have me.”
“No—the you that’s just you.”
“You have just me. Every night we close our bedroom door, Ruby. It’s just me, and just you. We’re us.” He bottoms out inside me, and I gasp. I’m so full. So full of him.
God, but he’s going to slay the very last of my reservations. “I don’t know how to be us here in this house. We’re never alone. There is always someone around. Always?—”
He takes my mouth again, kissing me deeply. “If you want me alone, you say the word, Ruby.” His fingers curl around mine over the lip of the vanity, pulling them free to twine with his before he lifts my hand to his mouth, kissing me as he rocks into me, rooting himself deep and staying there. He kisses one finger, and then two, three, then four. “I am wrapped around these fingers, wife. I am inside you now, but you are inside me, always. You are a vice around my heart, and it grows tighter and tighter every day. I count the minutes until I can return to you each day I am forced to leave you. I’ve been miserable for a week, hoping you will invite me inside again.” He drops his face into the crook of my neck, his hot tongue sliding against sensitive skin. He growls, “Your scent drives me to the edge of madness.” His free hand dives into my hair, tugging gently as his mouth finds mine again. Against my lips, he murmurs, “I’ve never felt more at home anywhere in my life, than I feel when I am inside you. You are my home. Your goodness is my salvation. Your purity is my deliverance. You. Are. My. Wife.” He spills hot release inside me as I shudder, breaking around him. “And I am yours. Entirely, and eternally, yours.”
Burying my face into his chest, I attempt to gather the shattered pieces of my shield. I feel raw and brutalized by his words, and the affection within them. I’m on the brink of tears. I feel overly emotional and over exhausted. The man can’t possibly know how his words affect me, how desperately I want for them to be true.
When I sniffle, he angles back to catch my face between his hands.
“Hey.” He dips his head to look at me. I can feel his release leaking from my body even though he’s still buried deep inside me. He’s reluctant to pull out of me, just as I’m reluctant to lose him. “Look at me, Ruby.”
How can we fit like this together? Like we were made for one another? As though God built me specifically for him, and him for me?
How can something that started so wrong become so right?
“I’m making a mess.” I blush at the words, feeling the stickiness of our release trickling down my thigh to pool on the counter.
“I don’t care.”
I shake my head between his hands, my eyes desperate on his. “We have to stop doing this.”
“No,” he says roughly, firmly. “We don’t. And we won’t.”
Again, I feel fire in my cheeks. “I mean like this—unprotected.”
His eyes flash to mine, and his lips hitch in a cocky grin that flips my heart. “Didn’t you just tell me I would make a wonderful father?”
Oh God…
“I said you’d make a wonderful father, with practice.”
A laugh plays at the edge of his eyes. “Trust me, Nala is taking my training with the utmost seriousness.”
My ovaries clench. Again. “Kirill!” I admonish with a swat to his broad, inked chest. “I’m serious.”
