Page 56 of Runaway Queen

I’d never be alone, with the weight of the world on my shoulders, again. I knew it without asking. The thing between us, born in darkness, forged with pain and fear, had never died. Not in all this time.

We reached my room, and Nikolai closed the door with his foot before advancing to the bed. He placed me gently on it and stepped back, reaching out to turn a light on beside the bed, and chased away the shadows between us. There was no more hiding parts of ourselves in the darkness.

I was in the middle of the mattress and rose on my elbows to watch him. His face was unreadable in the dimness of the light. I could see his hands, though, and I watched every single second of him undressing. He tugged his leather jacket off and let it slide down his arms like a snake shedding its skin. His T-shirt followed, baring his beautiful, tattooed torso to me. He was so broad now. He barely looked like the young man he’d been all those years ago, locked in the basement. Now, he was all grown up. His shoulders were wide and thick with bunched muscle. His torso was flat and tight with packed strength. His body looked like a lethal weapon. Only his tattoos remained unchanged, though there were a lot more of them now. Crude, prison-style tattoos. One caught my attention. On his chest, right over his heart.

A swallow mid-flight. The wings were outstretched.

A free bird. Alastochka.

He continued to strip, his jeans and boxers going next, kicked into a corner with his boots. He straightened up, naked before me. His cock was hard, lying in a long, thick line up his belly, straining desperately forward. He stood there and let me look at him. His eyes were on me the entire time. He stared at me like I was something he’d never seen before. A person he’d never truly met.

My body heated and my heart pounded at his look.

There was a world in his eyes that took away my breath.

Then he moved, prowling toward me and reaching for my shoes first. There was a solemn kind of ceremony to his slow unfastening of my shoes and the way he rolled my socks off. He pulled my jeans down in the same way, and then my panties. I sat up when he reached for my sweater. My face came near his, and I could smell the scent of his skin, and bodywash. That pine-and-leather musk that had always been unique to him. The smell that made my body sing. My bra followed my T-shirt, pushed out of the way and forgotten. We were both naked. My skin prickled all over at his careful inspection. He stroked a hand down my damp cheek. I was sure my face had to be blotchy and red after that cathartic crying jag. It certainly stung like it was. He was positioned over me, his weight held on his corded arms. I wished he’d lower himself to me. I wanted to feel his weight pressing me into the mattress, owning me. I wanted it more than anything.

Instead, his hand wandered down my neck and along my collarbones. His mouth followed. His kisses were hot and dragging. His stubble prickled my flesh and I shivered, while his teeth nipped and bit.

He reached my breasts. Again, he stared at them, thumbing the nipples.

I jerked when he spoke.

“You fed our son with these breasts?”

The question was so unexpected, I couldn’t do more than nod. His hand closed over one, squeezing it lightly, and then his mouth enveloped my nipple. His tongue was shockingly hot after the cold air of the room. He stroked my nipple with his tongue, sucking and lathing it, tugging it between his teeth. I could have felt embarrassed. My body wasn’t what it had been seven years ago. There were the places I’d hidden from him last night with my strategically placed arms. Areas on my body that our moonlit chases hadn’t illuminated. My breasts sagged, and I had stretch marks, not to mention the lines on my tummy or the slight puckering around the C-section scar. It had been a difficult birth.

“I hadn’t known it was possible for the girl I knew to become more beautiful…” He trailed off when both breasts were well sucked, pink and aching. “But here we are.”

He moved down. I was so wet now, I could feel my want working down my thighs, dripping onto the bed. Soaked didn’t cover it. He worked his way down my body and paused at my belly. I bent my legs, sucking in my stomach instinctively. It was my go-to whenever that particularly vulnerable area of my body was exposed to other people’s eyes, which only happened at the beach nowadays.

“Don’t hide from me,lastochka. Don’t you dare. This body is still mine. My prize. Never forget that.” His lips found the scar. He paused over it, tracing his lips back and forth.

I felt compelled to explain somehow.

“It was a difficult labor. He was breech,” I started. The medical talk sounded totally wrong in the intimate atmosphere between us.

“Were you alone?” Nikolai’s question caught me off guard.

“I don’t remember the C-section. I was so tired,” I admitted.

The entire birth had been a rush of pain and fear, and the memories were hazy now. It had happened suddenly, and by the time Chiara and Angelo had heard, it was all over. The only thing that stuck in my memory, brighter than any star in the sky, was the moment when the nurse put Leo into my arms. The fog had cleared, the tiredness had lifted, and everything else had failed to matter.

“Yes, I was alone, until I wasn’t…” I mumbled, senseless words, lost in pleasure.

His lips slid along the scar, pressing kisses as he went.

“My brave, stronglastochka. You aren’t alone anymore, and you never will be again.”

With those words, he pushed my knees wide and licked up my center. Growling low in his throat, he rested his entire face against my pussy, his tongue pressing deep inside, lapping at me, like he wanted to drink me up.

“Whose ring were you wearing?” he pulled back to ask now. “Don’t tell me it was just for show again.”

I searched for his face with my hips, needing more of that delicious pressure. He started to lick me again, and I sank my fingers into his hair.

“You didn’t look too closely at it, did you? Figure it out yourself.”

He bit down on my inner thigh. I groaned.

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