Page 49 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"Nope," she beamed brightly, nipping his lips.

He muttered a curse, sleepily kissing her back before he pulled away. "Please, for the love of god, let me sleep, woman."

Chapter 22 - Ivan

Amy's body felt like heaven against Ivan's, warm and soft. He was easily tempted to surrender to her kisses, to lose himself in the way her lips brushed against his. With each gentle touch, she pulled him from the depths of sleep, drawing him deeper into her embrace.

"Ivan," she sighed, her voice a needy murmur that sent adrenaline racing through him. God, this woman. He rolled her under him, careful not to press too hard, and lazily kissed her back. As her pebbled nipples brushed against his chest, he nearly grinned, shifting to nibble a path down her jawline.

Now this is what I'm talking about. If he'd known this was the greeting he'd get when he returned today, he probably wouldn't have left in the first place.

"Did you dress up for me?" he said in a lazy rumble, fingers tracing the edges of her bra. Need thrummed through him, his cock hardening at her proximity as he leaned back to take in the sight of her.

"Yes," she replied quietly, and he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of her spread out before him. Stunning. Silky green lace covered her pussy and breasts, and the air around him almost hummed with desire. But all that need, that want, settled like a stone in his gut when he saw the flicker of anxiety in her eyes. It felt like a reminder of how uncertain everything was between them at the moment.

"Beautiful," he murmured, sitting back on his haunches. When he met her eyes, vulnerability twisted her expression.

He exhaled, running his fingers through his hair. He didn't know what was behind that look, but he didn't like it. The only thing he wanted more than her touch was her trust.Temptation aside, he just wasn't ready to rush things. So he ignored the ache to feel his wife's touch for a little bit longer and let reality push its way to the forefront of his mind again.

"Tell me what's wrong, Mishka?"

"We need to talk. I need to tell you something," she said, her voice trembling. He couldn't help but feel a little apprehension. The seriousness in her tone sent warnings blaring in his mind.

Don't leave me,he wanted to say before she said anything that would indicate that's what she wanted.

"Speak then," he urged, fingers brushing against her shoulder with a gentleness that belied the tension thrumming between them. Her eyes darted to the ceiling and back, hesitation and frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior.

Indecision flickered through her gaze, and Amy let out a breath, sounding frustrated. Her eyes were on the ceiling, then they fell back to him. "How's the investigation going? We've barely spoken since moving in at the compound."

His heart sank.

"I'm sorry, Mishka," he said softly, genuine remorse coating his words. They hadn't discovered much in the past few weeks. It pissed him off, but he didn't want her to worry, so he hadn't said anything the few times they'd been together. Still, her words from their last argument echoed in his head, and he hesitated, reluctance weighing heavily in his chest.I have to tell her.

"Is there anything new?" she pressed, and he frowned, reluctant to part with the information. Not because he didn't trust her, but because the news would worry her.It's whyMikhail had been here all week instead of helping out with the investigation.

"Ivan?" she urged, and the things they'd said the last time they argued echoed in his head. He'd told her he'd do better, and he meant that.

"Don't tell the others," he warned softly. It wasn't their place if Lev or Mikhail wanted to keep the rest of the house out of the loop. Sometimes, speaking could hurt more than the silence. "But we think it's an inside job. There's just too many things that wouldn't make sense otherwise."

Like the information the culprit had gleaned about Amy and her family.

"Okay," she said on a shaky exhale. Her fingernails dug into his skin, but the bite of pain wasn't as concerning as the worry flashing across her face.This is why I don't tell her these things,he thought, jaw clenching. But how could he say no when their relationship was already as unstable as it was?

Ivan rubbed a bruised knuckle against her cheek, promises aching to spill from his lips—but they were silenced when she pulled herself toward him, kissing him on the mouth.

"Ivan," she murmured, and he hummed under his breath, eager to continue. "Thank you for trusting me with that."

Her words, God, they had the power to shake his entire world. He huffed a laugh, unable to complain. Eager to distract them both, he deepened the kiss, pausing only to brush kisses along her jawline, collarbone… throat. His mouth moved along her neck, and her breath hitched. A moan vibrated against her lips until she settled her hand on his chest, a heavy touch pushing him away. He let her, eyes darkening at the flush spreading across her skin.

He gave her a look of disappointment, his eyes following a path down her body that he wanted to taste. They'd barely been speaking these past few weeks, and falling asleep with her had only been torture when left again in the morning. Something had to end, but he'd been hoping she would be the one to fight for them this time.

"Wait, I'm still busy talking," she replied, reaching for his shoulders, her touch sending warmth coursing through his body, but the words she spoke next left him confused. "I'm not, like, blaming you or anything, but you—you haven't been around... and... and... I..."

Indecision lit up her features, and he leaned back, running a hand through his hair, guilt gnawing at him. "I was trying to give you space."

"Why?" she questioned, pulling his focus to her again. He shrugged, feeling stupid.

"I'm trying to be better, Mishka." It wasn't easy, but losing her would be so much worse.

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