Page 50 of Ivory Oath

“Can you read me a bedtime book?” Dante asks.

I’m about to agree before I realize he’s tugging on Mikhail’s sleeve, not mine.

Mikhail looks over his head to check with me and I nod. The time of me being jealous over their relationship is long over. All I ever wanted for Dante is a father figure. Now, he has one. How could I ever begrudge him that?

“Sure, kiddo.” Mikhail ushers him off the stool. “Brush your teeth and change into pajamas. I’ll meet you in your room.”

Dante groans. “I don’t want to go alone. I want you to come with me.”

“I have to stay here and finish the dishes. Hey,” Mikhail says with a sly smile, “do you wanna race? See if you can brush your teeth before I finish?—”

Mikhail can’t even finish the sentence before Dante streaks down the hallway. He yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor behind him on his way to the bathroom.

I take Dante’s place at the sink. “It took me years to learn that trick—turning everything into a race.”

“I’m a fast learner,” Mikhail teases.

He’s joking, but he’s right. A few weeks ago, Mikhail told me he didn’t want a family. He made it clear that he had no desire to be a husband and father in the traditional sense. And yet, here he is.

He’s learned how to become an irreplaceable part of our lives in only a matter of weeks.

“Dante loves you. It’s so obvious.”

Mikhail smiles. “That’s good. Because I love him, too.”

Our eyes meet. His are a sapphire blue in the glow from the fireplace in the corner. I don’t have to wonder if he’s thinking about our night on the balcony, the confessions we made to one another. I’m thinking of the exact same things.

“I love his mom, too,” Mikhail whispers. He turns the water off and steps closer to me. His arm snakes around my waist, yanking me against his body. I feel a hard bulge against my stomach.

Heat radiates through me. I feel Mikhail’s touch everywhere. I swallow down a knot of desire, trying and failing to find the words to respond.

But maybe this isn’t the time for words.

I stretch onto my toes, dragging my body against him and drawing a groan from his chest. I press my lips against his—just as footsteps clomp down the hallway.

“I win!” Dante cheers, out of breath. His pajama shirt is on backwards and his hair is sticking up in every direction. “I beat you!”

Mikhail drops his forehead against mine and sighs. Then he turns to Dante with a big smile. “You sure did, bud. You got me good. Now, hurry and pick out books to read before I get there.”

Dante runs down the hallway to his room and I move to turn back to the dishes. But Mikhail grabs my waist and plants me on the countertop. He spreads my thighs and steps between them like he was made to fit there. Like we should always be like this.

I can’t breathe.

“Remember how you feel right now.” His hands drag slowly up my legs. His fingertips brand my skin.

I sigh and part my legs wider. “There’s not a chance in hell that I could forget.”

Mikhail snatches my lower lip between his teeth, tugging on it for one perfect moment before he turns and walks away. Leaving me to slide to the floor on shaky legs and sit there all by myself, remembering how to breathe again.

23

VIVIANA

When Mikhail finishes putting Dante to bed and walks into the kitchen thirty minutes later, I promptly throw myself at him.

Never one to be caught off-guard, Mikhail scoops me out of the air like he expected it all along and presses me against the fridge. There’s a refrigerator magnet digging into my spine, but I barely feel it. I’m too busy hooking my legs around his waist and crushing my mouth to his.

“You obey directions well,” Mikhail observes against my mouth between kisses. “It feels like I never left.”

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