Page 91 of The Russian Retribution

Erik and Viktor vanish from sight as my scream fills the night air. The ground rushes up to meet me as my legs give way, and I’m deaf to the sound of a door crashing open and guns firing.

Death greets me warmly, a final comfort as I fall into darkness.

35

ERIK

“This is a dream.”

“Do you think so?” comes Anastasia’s gentle voice. “How can you tell?”

“I’ve never been to the beach.”

Opening my eyes, the bright light forces me to squint. Blinking quickly clears the glare and warmth beats down on my naked body. I’m reclining back on a lounger, basking in the hot sun’s rays while resting underneath a square cabana. Sheer white fabric drapes over the top and down the sides, lazily drifting in a light breeze that kisses across my sunbaked skin. White sand warms under the single foot I have resting down on the ground, while the music of the rolling ocean waves reaches my ears.

Anastasia stands near the entrance, wrapped in a light pink robe that hangs loosely from her shoulders. The wind catches in her hair and lifts the strands like the caress of delicate fingers.

“How have you never been to the beach?” She turns to face me, leaning back against one of the wooden supports. “Everyone has been to the beach.”

Her eyes glint like gemstones. The sight of her draws an unexpected pulse of tension across my chest and I glance down at her abdomen, expecting to see… something. The thought is gone as soon as it appears.

“Never had a reason to go to the beach.”

“That’s so weird.” She laughs softly. “I love the beach.”

“Do you?” Pushing against the pillows, I rise from the lounger and approach. My toes sink into the sand and just beyond Anastasia’s head, I glimpse the deep blue, rolling waves of the ocean. “You never said.”

“Didn’t I?” She tilts her head. “I’m sure I did.”

“I would have remembered,” I murmur. “I remember everything about you.”

“You’d have to know everything to remember everything.” She tilts her head back slightly to look up at me, and a gentle smile plays across her plush lips. “You don’t know everything.”

“Tell me, then. Tell me every detail.”

“Why?” Anastasia lifts one hand and skims her fingers against my cheek. “It doesn’t matter in a dream.”

“So this is a dream.”

“It must be because I’m thewomanof your dreams, right?” Her brows lift playfully, and I can’t hold myself back any longer.

In one move, I catch her in my arms and press her up against the wooden support. Kissing her deeply, peacefulness overtakes my soul and every other lingering, uncertain thought in the background melts away. Nothing matters but Anastasia.

Her soft lips part against mine, inviting me into the heat of her mouth. Her body radiates warmth through the thin robe, so I run both my hands around her waist. I keep one sliding around to the small of her back, bringing her close against me while the other lightly cups the side of her neck. Her pulse races under my touch, and we kiss until the burning need for air forces us apart.

“Wow,” she breathes out, panting slightly. “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” I whisper. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You’re kissing me like you haven’t seen me in forever.”

“Feels like I haven’t.”

“But I’m right here.” Both of her hands caress my cheeks and she looks me right in the eye. “I’m always right here.”

“I know.” And yet as the words leave me, it feels like a lie. As soon as the uncertain thought rises, it fades into nothing so I kiss her again. My tongue dances with hers, weaving together as if we are one. She moans softly, pressing into me, and as she adjusts herself, her stiff nipples peek through the fabric and brush against my chest.

“Anastasia,” I say, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

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