Page 135 of Twisted Pact
Their muffled voices carry through the walls. Laughter. The sound of people who love each other without reservation.
Getting to know Katya is going better than I expected, too.
She’s warm without being overbearing. Smart without being cruel. The kind of woman who survived this world and kept her humanity intact.
Watching her interact with Alexei tonight showed me a different side of him, too. The protective older brother. The man who smiles when he thinks no one is paying attention.
Alexei slides into bed beside me. The mattress dips under his weight. He’s wearing only boxers, and the sight of his bare chest still makes my pulse kick up even after everything we’ve been through.
“Your brother seems happy,” I comment.
Alexei nods and replies, “He is.”
“Does that bother you?”
He turns his head on the pillow to look at me. “Why would it bother me?”
“Because you had to watch him find something you thought was impossible.”
He pauses before responding. “I don’t begrudge Dmitri his happiness.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He reaches over and runs his fingers through my hair. The touch sends tingles across my scalp. “You ask too many questions.”
“You avoid too many answers.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Fair.”
I inch closer until our bodies touch, letting his body heat seep through my nightgown. “My neck is killing me.”
“From what?”
“Stress. Everything.” I roll my shoulders and feel the knots pull. “I think my body is staging a rebellion.”
He sits up and motions in my direction. “Turn over.”
“What?”
“Turn over. On your stomach.”
I pause for a second before complying. The pillow cushions my face as I settle into position. The silk nightgown rides up slightlyon my thighs, settling just under my ass as Alexei climbs on top of me with his knees on either side of my body.
He places his hands on my shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the muscles along my spine in slow circles.
I groan into the pillow. “That feels incredible.”
“You’re carrying all your stress right here.” He applies more pressure to a particularly tight spot between my shoulder blades. “You need to breathe.”
“Iambreathing.”
“Deeper. Like you mean it.”
I inhale slowly through my nose and exhale through my mouth. He continues working, kneading out the knots from muscles I didn’t even realize were locked. His thumbs dig into the base of my neck as I melt into the mattress.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much better.”
