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He claims defeat and stops trying to sit as he looks up at me. “Why do I feel like it’s going to be a long few months?”
I offer a small smile. “Because it is. Healing’s going to take us some time. But we’ll get there.”
I put my hand on his other one. I feel guilty for thinking it, but a small part of me is almost grateful that in his weakened state, I have the opportunity to tend to him for once.
No matter how messy it might be, we’ll figure this out together. Because for the first time in my life, I’m realizing that I might have a future.
55
ELANEE
“Yes, you have to eat healthier,” I argue with Dmitri and pluck the glass of whisky from his hand. “And no, you’re not drinking. You’re still recovering and have surgery scheduled in a few weeks. How are you not taking this seriously?” I ask him as I pop a hand on my hip and stand in front of him. He goes to sit in his office chair. I close his laptop. “And you’re not working. Your grandfather is looking after everything while you recover, so stop trying to snoop.”
He grunts in displeasure. He was in the hospital for a week, and we’ve only been back at his apartment for not even two days as he tries to busy himself already.
Dmitri tugs me into his lap. “Then keep me entertained in other ways.”
I push him back. “Dmitri Volkov, we are not having sex.”
A slow and sensual smile crosses his expression. “It can’t be all that bad if we remain in this seat.”
Warmth floods my core, as I consider it, but quickly shut that down. “You’re out of your mind if you think you could only ever have sex in one spot and one position.”
“Hmmm,” he says whimsically as he pushes back part of my hair. “We don’t know until we try.”
I give him a deadpan expression. “I quite enjoyed the part of you that slept so much in the hospital.”
“I quite enjoy the obedient side of you,” he says sensually.
My pussy throbs at the insinuation because this man will punish me in every position and most likely start bleeding internally because of it.
“Dmitri, I swear—”
The intercom to his apartment buzzes. My eyebrows furrow. “Were we expecting anyone?”
He casually shrugs. “I might’ve organized a little gift for you?”
I don’t trust the way he’s smiling because Dmitri Volkov is nothing but mischievous.
“You wouldn’t make a wounded man get the door, would you?” he says, pouting, and I roll my eyes.
“Oh, now all of a sudden, you acknowledge your recovery?” I mock but push off him as I go to answer the door. I answer the intercom and can see Layla in view. I buzz her up, briefly brush my fingers through my hair, and look down at my PJs.
Dmitri is smiling as he stands and leans expectantly against the bookshelf.
“You could’ve at least told me so I could change into something else,” I complain.
He crosses his arms. “You’ve been wearing those PJs for two days now. Nothing was making you change out of those, Cricket, not even your sister.”
Heat streaks my cheeks. Okay, so maybe I’d become too comfortable, but we’d mostly been sleeping. It felt like it’d been an eternity since either of us had slept so soundly.
I open the door, and my jaw immediately drops in shock. My stomach sinks with a twisted roll of emotion. My bottom lip begins to tremble, and I can’t hide the quiver in my voice. “Mom?” I choke out. “Dad?”
“Took your time to call,” my mother reprimands me but pulls me in for a hug. Tears spill over my cheeks as I stare at Layla in disbelief, and I hug my mother tightly back. I hadn’t seen them for five years. My father comes and hugs us both.
A swirl of guilt, relief, and pain flows through me.
Guilty for not speaking to them sooner.
