Page 50 of Triplet Babies
“Something like that.” He captures my hand and presses it flat against his chest. “I’ve spent twenty years building walls and keeping people at distance. It’s safer that way.”
“Safer for whom?”
His lips curve into a grim smile. “Everyone. People close to me become targets. Leverage. Weaknesses my enemies can exploit.”
I understand what he’s really saying. Being here, staying with him, and choosing this makes me a target too. The thought should terrify me, and all I experience is a strange sense of inevitability. I’ve been a target for years as Alex’s possession. Breaking free from that only to be possibly enduring it again frightens me, but having Yarik on my side is comforting. “I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.”
I shake my head. “Maybe, but I’m more afraid of losing you than I am of whatever dangers come with loving you.” The word slips out before I can stop it, hanging in the air between us like a confession.
He stares at me as though looking for signs I don’t mean it. “Sarah...”
“I know it’s crazy. I know it’s too soon and too complicated and probably impossible. Watching you today, thinking I might lose you…” I shake my head. “I can’t pretend this is just physical.” I’ve already told him I loved him once with no response, so I don’t expect this time to get any verbal confirmation either, but after today, I need to say it again.
He kisses me then, soft, sweet, and desperate all at once. When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He just holds me with intensity, and maybe I’m fooling myself, but I hear “I love you” in the silence that passes between us.
The possibly-inferred because I really want it to be true confession threatens to break me and loosens something that’s been locked away since Alex. I pull him down for another kiss and pour all my fear, hope, and desperate need into the contact. The voice of reason that likes to rear its ugly head reminds me he’s still engaged, and his declaration of love doesn’t mean he’ll cancel his engagement, but I ignore it in the heat of the moment.
This time when we come together, it’s different from the frantic passion by the pool or the desperate need I’ve been imagining for weeks. This is slow and deliberate, like we have all the time in the world. He begins by simply touching my face, tracing the line of my jaw with gentle fingers. “I want to memorize every detail,” he whispers, brushing his thumb across my lower lip.
I turn my head and kiss his palm, tasting the salt of his skin. “Then memorize this too.”
He smiles at that, a real smile that transforms his usually guarded expression. “You’re going to be the end of me, Sarah.”
“Good,” I whisper back and pull him down for a kiss that starts gently but quickly deepens.
We take our time, with no urgency or desperation driving us. Just want and tenderness and the overwhelming need to be close. He starts by sliding the silk robe from my shoulders, watching as the fabric pools around my waist. His hands followthe path the silk took, skimming over my bare shoulders and down my arms.
“You’re so soft.” He presses a kiss to the curve of my shoulder. “Like silk.”
I reach for the buttons of his pajama pants, working them open slowly while he watches my expression. When I push the fabric down his hips, he helps me, kicking them away until we’re both completely bare.
Instead of rushing, we simply look at each other. I let my gaze travel over his broad chest, the defined muscles of his stomach, and the tattoos that tell the story of his life. When I reach up to trace the stars below his collarbone, he catches my wrist gently.
Vulnerability flickers in his eyes. “Do they bother you?”
I press my lips to the rose over his heart, feeling his pulse quicken beneath my mouth. “They’re part of you. I want all of you.”
Something shifts in his expression at those words, something vulnerable and raw that he usually keeps hidden. He kisses me again, harder this time, pouring emotion into the contact until I’m breathless and clinging to him.
I explore the tattoos more thoroughly now, tracing the intricate designs with my fingertips and then my tongue. There’s a dagger on his ribs that I follow from hilt to point, making him shiver. I find a phrase in Cyrillic script across his shoulder blade that I can’t read but kiss anyway.
My finger traces the letters. “What does this one say?”
His voice roughens. “Death before dishonor. Thebratvacode.”
I press a soft kiss to the words, then touch a small crown on his wrist. “And this?”
“For my father. He had a tattoo just like it to honor his father.” He lets out a ragged breath when I kiss that one too. “Sarah...”
I continue my exploration, learning the geography of his body through touch and taste. When I reach the new bandage over his ribs, I’m extra gentle, pressing the softest kiss to the edge of the white tape.
He groans softly, tangling his hands in my hair. “You’re driving me crazy.”
I nip gently at his collarbone, then soothe the sting with my tongue. “That’s the idea.”
He pulls me up for another kiss, rolling us so I’m beneath him on the soft sheets. Now it’s his turn to explore, and he takes his time about it. He starts with my neck, finding a sensitive spot that makes me gasp and lavishing attention on it until I’m squirming beneath him.
