Page 80 of Dark Truths

“Comfortable?” Dimitri peers down at me with a small smile while he places a fluffy white towel and a small pile of clothes on the edge of the tub.?

“I am. Thank you for drawing this up. It's really nice.”

“Anytime.”

“So…do you have a secret family? Wife and kids?"

He quirks a brow in my direction as he sits on the ledge. “Starting with the inquisition already?”

I narrow my eyes as I remind him, “You said you’d be honest with me and answer my questions.”

“Yes, I did.” He reaches behind me, producing a washcloth before handing it to me. “I don't have a secret family. No wife, no kids," his eyes drop to the bubbles covering my body, "yet. No sisters or brothers. I never knew my dad and my mom passed away from cancer when I was seventeen.”

I wanted the truth, not realizing that it could be unpleasant to hear.

“I’m sorry about your mom.” I couldn’t imagine losing mine and so young, too. “What happened after?”

“Stayed with a friend’s family until I could join the Marines. Did my time until I was in one too many blasts and retired to the Bureau.”?

“How long have you been with them?”

“Before I was sent undercover?” He thinks for a long moment before he finally answers. “Three years.”

I lather up the washcloth and run it over my neck. “Why you?”

“I spoke the best Russian.”

Pausing, I glance at him with surprise. “Seriously? Because you spoke Russian the best?”

He shrugs. “My field experience probably helped.”

I groan in frustration when I try to run the washcloth down my side. Dimitri notices and holds his hand out. “Allow me?”

Without even thinking, my hand instinctively moves to place the washcloth in his, as if it’s second nature to me. When I realize what I’ve done, I meet his eyes and tell him firmly, “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

His smirk, the type that makes my stomach flutter with butterflies, spreads across his face. “My ideas are anything but funny. I can assure you, angel.”

Heat spreads down my body, pooling between my legs. Damn hormones and raging emotions. Clearing my throat, I shift in the tub as I stammer, “Yeah…well…your ideas got us into this mess, so…”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “Lean forward, but be careful to keep your arm out of the water.”

I do as he says, unable to fight back the moan that slips from my lips when he runs the warm, soapy cloth down my back.?

Dimitri pauses, and his voice drops an octave as he warns, “Angel, keep that up, and I can’t be held responsible for what I do next.”

I bite my lip and stay silent. My body wants to betray my mind and I can’t let it. Not until I know everything. "Is this why we couldn't be together?"

"Yes."

"And why you didn't fight to stay after the miscarriage?"

His hand falters before he continues again in soothing circles down my back. "I thought it was best for both of us, but I regret it every day."

Me too. "So then why did you block me?"

This time he stops all together and I peer over my shoulder at him. He stares at me in confusion. "What? I never blocked you."

"I tried calling you the next day and it went straight to voicemail. Like I had been blocked." I don't mean to sound accusing but it still kind of stings.

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