Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 113324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
One thing I was certain of? I was determined to make this winter different for him, to have him associate it with our warm bed, our wicked lovemaking, and our hopes for the future.
“Oh, before I forget, Jess has kind of called dibs on your old place. She wants to fly back with us after the holidays.” And she might’ve vowed never to leave. As she’d put it: “If I get to live in my own mini palace, Imma be one borscht-eating bitch.”
“Then it’s hers,” Sevastyan said, surprising me. “As long as I get you to myself during the nights.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Siberian.” For the first time in his life, he was enjoying the long nights. We swam together, read together, and played chess by the fire. Or we tried to. Last night, we’d scattered the pieces when he’d tossed me atop the board to have his way with me.
Never had a queen been so happy to be taken.
Often, we talked into the night as he shared more of his burdens. With each one, I marveled at the loving and honorable man he’d become. He’d also been telling me all about Paxán, and I could see the kindly clockmaker’s hand in guiding him.
Sevastyan still had shadows; now they were our shadows.
As for me, I’d been working on becoming more patient. To help with that, I was repairing my bátja’s clocks. Clock-making demanded patience.
When the wind whipped, Sevastyan said, “Come here.” He tugged me closer, shielding me with his big body. He always did that, just as he warmed my hands whenever they got cold.
I snuggled up to him, even though I was warm in my luxurious cashmere coat and sweater—that I’d paired with jeans and clodhopper boots.
I’d been making an effort to preserve my self ; Natalie was back—hopefully a little more patient and accepting. Maybe, just maybe, a little wiser . . . ?
When a white hare crossed our path, I murmured, “It’s so beautiful here.”
“Wait till you see it in the summer.” He’d started talking about the future, growing increasingly confident that I wasn’t going anywhere.
Probably because we’d taken to living together like a house on fire. “Hey, maybe we’ll have gotten rid of Jess by then.”
He flashed me an amused look.
The only thing missing between us? He hadn’t told me he loved me. Though he showed me every day, and he’d certainly convinced me of it in Paris, I needed to hear the words. Yet this was one thing I couldn’t ask him for; it had to come naturally. . . .
“Tomorrow we should visit the banya.” As he peered down at me, the sun struck his eyes, setting them aglow.
Molten gold: my new favorite color.
“I agree. It’s important. For our health.” Had I thought I would miss the thrills to be had at Le Libertin? Wrong. Sevastyan had already made me fly on several occasions since we’d been home.
Other times, he would make love to me with touches and kisses so worshipful, I couldn’t decide which side of him I craved more.
“And until we can get to the banya,” he said in a husky voice, “what should we do for our health?”
“A chess rematch? Or maybe a hot shower for two?” We conserved water whenever possible because we were responsible citizens. Who liked sex in the shower.
“I have an idea. But it’d be better if I showed you. . . .” He trailed off, his expression filled with sensual promise.
At that look, a puff of breath escaped me. “Can we walk faster, Sevastyan?”
Instead, he stopped, drawing me even closer. “As much as it pains me to say this, my brother was right. You should call me by something other than my last name.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Anything. Pick something out of a hat.”
“Wow, so many options.” Decades ago, he’d chosen Aleksandr for himself. Maybe I’d shape it up a bit. “It could be that I’ve got a name already picked out. Perhaps I’m just waiting for the right time to tell you.”
“Why wait?”
“Are you being . . . impatient?” In a saucy tone, I countered, “Okay, then why are you waiting to propose to me?”
Sexy grin. “I can’t much longer—I know you’re going to want to marry when we go to Nebraska.”
Busted. Our first night together, he’d mentioned my wearing “his gold.” Who knew I’d first wear it in the form of a wedding ring? I quirked a brow. “Pretty confident I’ll be your wife, aren’t you?”
He removed his glove to smooth the backs of his fingers over my cheek. “Eto dlya nas neizbezhno, milaya.” It’s inevitable.
We lay in our bed that night, catching our breath after a round of bone-melting sex. Sevastyan was still softly thrusting, brushing kisses over my face.
I was utterly sated, basking in heavy-lidded bliss as the nearby fire crackled. Outside, snow pelted the windows and winds howled, but all was cozy within.
Tonight, I’d decided that there was nothing better than watching his body move by firelight—and that this man possessed a never-ending bag of carnal tricks.
When he trailed his lips down to my neck, I threaded my fingers through his thick hair, arching to his mouth.
Between kisses, he rasped against my damp skin, “Ya lyublyu tebya.” I love you.
A log popped in the fire; I grinned like an idiot.
He tensed when I didn’t answer, raising his head with an alarmed expression. “What is it?”
Still grinning, I said, “It’s nice to hear those words.” I leaned up and kissed the bridge of his nose.