Page 88 of Resurrection

“I’m not going anywhere unless you ask me to.” His voice is gruff.

I kiss him. “Don’t go,” I murmur. “Don’t ever go.” But even as I say the words, anxiety eats at my stomach.

He deepens the kiss and jerks my shirt over my head in one swift action. There’s a desperation in my movements as I tug on his jeans and remove his boxers. As though part of me needs the closeness to prove to myself that this, what’s between us, is still real. We won’t burn out or fade away because Eric is trying to extinguish us. But even as he slides into me and I pull him tight against me, something has altered. I’ve got one foot out the door, and I don’t know how to get myself back in.

He cups my face and stares at me. “Get outta your head, Carys. Be here with me, in the moment.”

Tears spring to my eyes. “I’m just so afraid to lose you.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“Tell me you love me.”

His lips brush against mine as he slides out and slips in again. I clutch onto him, keeping him as close as possible. “I love you,” he whispers.

He keeps telling me over and over while we pleasure each other until I almost forget why he needs to say it at all.

When my eyes pop open, I’m not sure why I’m awake. I lay in for a moment with his arm draped across me and listen for a sound. Was the noise Lucas? Did I hear him? Galina’s room is between ours. Could I have heard him? He’d have to be screaming.

What if he’s hurt? Or sick?

Moving his arm, I sit on the edge of the bed, tense, listening.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles into his pillow.

“I’m going to go check on Lucas.” I glance at him over my shoulder.

He runs his hand along my waist.

“Want me to come?”

I shake my head and then realize he still hasn’t opened his eyes. A laugh escapes me, and he cracks open an eye. “No need for both of us to be tired in the morning,” I whisper into the too-quiet room. “I just need to see him.”

Finn’s breathing evens out, and I can’t help smiling. There’s something so boyish about him in bed, asleep. The toughness vanishes, and in its place is a peacefulness he rarely shows when he’s awake. My heart aches with love.

After throwing on a robe, I open our door and creep down the hall. The last thing I want is to wake Lucas if he’s sleeping. His door is ajar, and I push it wide with my fingertips. The crib sits in the middle of an oversized room. There’s a rocking chair, a recliner, a change table to the left, and a selection of books andtoys in bins on the right. Earlier today, the details in the room made me wonder how long Eric intended to stay in Russia.

When I get to Lucas’s bed, I stare at him, my swaddled bundle, and a surge of hope sweeps through my chest.He’s mine.Someday this little person will call me Mommy, will tell me he loves me, will rush into my arms because he’s delighted to see me. Every thought is amazing and terrifying. None of these dreams are new. Seven other times I had them when I learned I was pregnant. The joy, the hope, visualizing the future, making plans, buying things, in love with someone who barely existed. In each instance, my dream ended in tragedy. This time there’s a baby. Not a ghost, not an idea yet to develop.My baby.

“He has your dad’s nose.”

I tense and half turn toward the door where Eric is silhouetted in the entry. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He comes to stand beside me and gazes at him. “Your dad pointed it out, and I had to agree.”

“Of course he did.”

We remain in silence, and I wish more than anything he hadn’t interrupted my moment with Lucas. It’s the first time I’ve been alone with him today.

“Have you thought about what I said?”

I can’t meet his gaze. “I don’t want to be with you, Eric.”

His hand trails along my side. “You’d get used to being with me again. We were good together once.”

“That’s not what I want anymore.” I force myself to establish eye contact. Had I ever wanted him? Being with Finn made everyone who came before or after him seem insignificant, unimportant.

He takes in my appearance, and his eyes darken. “You were always good for more than one round.” He reaches for the tie on my robe. “And I don’t mind Finn’s sloppy seconds. Perhaps you need a reminder of how good we used to be.”

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