Page 81 of Keeping Ruby

Thirty-Seven

Ruby

Kirill has mostly worked from home the past two weeks. Some days, I wake feeling energized and refreshed, and other days I wake sick as a dog and bent over the toilet for the first half hour.

I’m beginning to suspect my stress ulcer might have flared, because my symptoms are beginning to look like the ones I’d had when I’d developed it my second year of university, when Mama got sick and I still had to ace my exams. The pressure had been real, because although I’d been plagued with worry for her, she had made me promise not to throw all my hard work away.

And heaven knows I’m stressed. I’ve been stressed since before Christmas, when I was taken. It’s now nearing the end of March—and there’s no denying (although I haven’t admitted it aloud) that I am madly, deeply, entirely in love with my husband.

“Which one?” Kirill holds two ties in his hands. A red one and a blue one. With his beard longish like this, there are deep flecks of burnished red that play peek-a-boo in the sun.

“The red one.”

He raises a brow. “You chose the blue one yesterday. Why red today?”

I laugh where I sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed with Nala curled up in my lap, exhausted, and asleep, after a night of kitten terrors. “Because I chose the blue one yesterday.”

Kirill nods at the cat. “You should wake that thing. Poke it or something.”

“Nala, her name is Nala.”

“Demon. Her name is Demon.” He fixes his tie in place, and I suddenly wish I knew how to tie a tie.

I bite my lip. “Will you teach me to do that?”

“What?” His gaze falls to my mouth. A spark of heat flares, and I clear my throat.

“Tie your ties?”

His grin is slow and deliciously wicked as he stalks me across the room. “You want to tie my ties?”

His pitch has dropped so much, I feel it in my core. I nod slowly. “Yes.”

“I like teaching you things,” his voice is husky.

I wet my lips, and his eyes drop. Behind his suit pants, I see him harden. I want to please him. I want to make him shatter—and he hasn’t been willing, lately. He thinks I’m sicker than I am. I think I just have an ulcer and have been practicing yoga every day in order to relieve my stress.

“I like it when you teach me things, too.”

Eyes flaring, he curses low under his breath. “I have to go into the office today.”

“I know.” I lift Nala from my lap to scoot closer to him. “We leave for America tomorrow.”

“We do.” His eyes search my face. “You’ve had a good morning this morning. How are you feeling?”

“Perfectly fine.” I climb onto my knees to wrap my arms around his neck. His come around my waist to pull me tight to his hard body. I moan at the feel of his hard arousal in my belly, and feel wet warmth spill into my panties.

I’m beyond turned on, and rub myself into him.

“Fucking hell, Ruby.” He groans a broken, desperate sound, and then he’s kissing me.

I kiss him back, deep and hungry. When he looses a tortured groan, I push away to slide off the bed closer to him. Then I slide to my knees.

“Wife.” His eyes shutter.

I reach for the buckle of his belt, working it lose before he catches my wrists in his large hands. “Ruby…”

“Please,” I beg. “I want to taste you.”

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