Page 42 of Tattooed Heart

He lets out a shaky breath and draws me closer, wrapping his arms around me like he fears I might disappear if he blinks too long. We stay like this for a while, tangled together in the quiet, letting the warmth of the morning soak into our skin.

Eventually, I trace a finger along the ridges of a scar near his ribs. “We can leave it all behind, you know. The Bratva. The danger. We can run.”

His jaw tenses, but he doesn’t pull away. “I've thought about it. There's a part of me that wants nothing more than to disappear with you and the baby. Find some quiet corner of the world where no one knows my name.”

“But?” I ask softly.

“But there's still unfinished business. Morozov is out there. Petrov may have flipped, but there are still loose ends. And I can't walk away knowing he might come for you one day. Or for our child.”

I nod, even though it scares me. “Then we finish it. Together.”

His hand slides up my thigh, not to seduce but to anchor. “You really are the bravest woman I've ever met.”

“I'm not brave,” I whisper. “I'm in love.”

He kisses me deeply and intentionally. Full of everything he can’t say. When we finally pull apart, he looks down at my belly and whispers something in Russian I don’t understand. The reverence in his voice makes my eyes sting with tears.

“What did you say?” I ask.

His fingers brush my cheek. “I told our child that they are the best thing I've ever done. And that their mother is the only reason I made it home.”

A tear slides down my cheek, and he kisses it away.

The war is not over. The world outside this room still spins on a blade's edge. But here, at this moment, there is only us. And that is more than enough.

I watch his face as he gazes at my stomach, his dark eyes filled with a tenderness I rarely see. The hardness that usually lines his features has softened in the morning light. I savor the moment, trying to commit every detail to memory. Dimitri Popov, feared enforcer of the Avilov Bratva, ruthless leader and dangerous man, looks at our unborn child like it is the most precious treasure in the universe.

“I never thought I would have this,” he whispers. “Men like me don't get happy endings.”

I run my fingers through his wavy hair, the strands thick and slightly coarse against my skin. “Maybe that's because you've never let yourself want one before.”

He looks up, his expression so unguarded it makes my heart clench. “There was nothing to want before you.”

The sincerity in his words threatens to undo me completely. This vulnerability is profound for a man who has spent his entire life hiding his emotions, building walls, and showing the world only his strength and brutality. I know what it costs him to let me see him this way.

“How long can you stay?” I ask, hoping the answer will be forever, but I know better.

He traces lazy circles on my hip with his thumb. “I told Lev to handle things for the day. Unless there's an emergency, I'm yours until tomorrow morning.”

A whole day. Twenty-four hours of him, all to myself. After weeks of phone calls monitored by guards and letters that could never say what we wanted to tell each other, this feels like a gift I don’t deserve.

I shift closer to him, resting my head on his chest so I can hear the steady thump of his heart. “I've missed this sound,” I murmur. “Sometimes I would dream about it and wake up crying because I couldn't hear it anymore.”

His arm tightens around me. “I dreamed of you every night. Your voice. Your scent.” His hand moves to cup my face, tilting it up so he can look into my eyes. “The feel of your skin against mine. It was torture knowing you were out here, carrying my child, facing everything alone.”

“I wasn't completely alone,” I remind him. “Talia and Aleksandr were here. So were the kids. And Lev kept me busy searching through files and paperwork.”

Something like guilt shadows his features. “I should have been here.”

I press my palm against his cheek, feeling the rough morning stubble. “You're here now. That's what matters.”

He turns his face to kiss my palm.

“You're too good for me, Sandy Davis. Always have been.”

“No,” I say firmly. “I'm exactly where I belong.”

Dimitri pulls me closer and kisses me deeply, his tongue sliding against mine with languid purpose. My body responds instantly, heat pooling between my thighs as I press myself against him. His hand slides down my back to grip my hip, and I can feel him hardening against my stomach.

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