Page 114 of Konstantin
“The more we work through this, the more you’ll remember. Just be patient.”
I let out a small snicker.
“Not very patient, are you?” Her grin is infectious, lighting up her face as she watches me.
“Not even close.”
“Well, you will learn to be, because the mind is a tricky thing. Be kind to it.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good. We’ll schedule another session for next week. Same time, yes?”
“Yep. I’ll be here.”
As I get up to leave, a strange sense of relief mixed with uncertaintyhits me.
There’s so much more to uncover, and for the first time, I believe like I can actually get there.
I still sense the aftershocks of the therapy session as I step into the house, but I push it all aside, focusing on the familiar comfort of home.
It’s strange how much this place, this life, is starting to feel like mine. And honestly, that should terrify me, but it doesn’t.
As I slip off my shoes, the weight of the day settles in my shoulders. But then the sound of footsteps catches my attention and Konstantin appears in the foyer, his presence filling the space as it always does.
My eyes follow the lines of his body and the way his gray sweats hang low on his hips, the way that white T-shirt clings to him. My God, it’s almost unfair how good he looks.
“How did it go?” He approaches, gaze sharpening as he tugs my chin with his firm grip, pulling me in just enough to feel his chest press into me.
“It actually went well. I remembered some things, but not enough yet.”
A small smile tugs on his face as his thumb brushes across my bottom lip. “See? I told you it was worth a try.”
“Yeah, yeah. Stop gloating.” I elbow him, and he chuckles, crouching over playfully.
“Come. I made you something.” His hand slips into mine, the heat of his fingers sending a jolt through me. He presses my knuckles to his lips, his gaze smoldering with intensity.
“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
“You’ll see, my impatient wife,” he says, each syllable deliberately dragging through the air.
That last word hits me harder than it should, creating a tightness in my stomach, and I can’t deny how much I love how it sounds coming from him.
The savory aroma drifts through the air as we step into the kitchen. Pots and pans simmer on the stove, the sounds of a meal in the making filling the space.
Konstantin pulls out a chair for me, always the gentleman. “Sit.”
Once I do, he moves to the stove, stirring something in the pot. My gaze stays rooted on him, roaming over his body, every inch of him suddenly more captivating than the meal he’s preparing. He looks so domestic, and it’s all kinds of sexy.
“You cook?”
He glances over his shoulder, offering me a flirty smile. “These days, men cook, Tessa.”
“Haha, you’re hilarious.” I roll my eyes. “I’m aware of that, but I just didn’t picture you as the cooking type.”
The playful stare he shoots me tells me he’s enjoying this too much. “Just because I’m handy with a gun doesn’t mean I can’t handle a kitchen, Mrs. Marinova.”
With a smooth motion, he turns off the stove, crosses the room, and moves my chair so I’m facing him. His hand settles around my throat, fingers tightening just enough to send a surge of desire through me.
