Page 84 of Scarlet Secrets

“Dates?” He laughs. “No one’s fucking dating, Erin. You’re his mother. We’re a family and we’ll act like one. You really think I’m going to let another man touch you?”

“I really think you might be overstepping lines.” I’m not about to date, but I’m not being forced into a pseudo wife role while he galivants around town screwing whoever. “It’s not the dark ages, and it’s not one rule for you and another for me. We can co-parent as separate entities, Demyan.”

“No.”

“No?”

My insides clench, and I ignore the buzzing need his arrogant, primal words ignite in me. I hate men like this, so why the hell is it turning me on? I press my thighs together.

He slides a hand down around my throat, warm, no real pressure, and he gently coaxes me to look at him.

His ice-blue eyes burn. “I don’t give a fuck what you think. You’re not dating and neither am I. You and me? We’re a family. We’ll get married and raise him together.”

The arrogance of this man… It almost brings a smile to my lips. Almost, because it’s insane and somehow, I get the feeling if I said no, I’d never see Sasha again and no court could help.

The shoot-out, all of it, Demyan works on the edge of society, of the law, and he has power. A lot of it. Everything about him and this place tell me that.

It should turn me off, make me run. It doesn’t.

And I can’t say no because I couldn’t stand losing Sasha for good. The little taste I got is more than enough.

The thought of being with him… It doesn’t scare me off. Like that night when Sasha was conceived, there’s something about it, him that doesn’t scare me at all. Instead, it thrills me.

“What about you?” he asks like he didn’t just announce we’re getting married. “You were at the hotel for some conference?”

“I was working on my career in—” I stop. “That’s on hold.” Gone for the foreseeable future. Sasha comes first. The little boy comes in, clearly tired, and plonks down among his toys, dragging his goat into his arms as Olga peeks in to make sure we’re here. “You remember?”

“That was a very memorable night,” he murmurs, eyeing me, and heat floods me.

He’s right, it was. I’ve never—the things he did to me, we did together. I don’t think I’ve ever come so much or so hard in all my life.

“It was,” I whisper, looking at Sasha, then at him. “I temp now in property development. Lots of temp work there and it means I have time to spend with Sasha, time I’d never have with advertising. And it pays the bills.”

“I take care of my family; you’ll never have to worry about work or money again.”

“Demyan, I like working.”

I stand, checking my watch as the grizzles start. A block won’t fit, apparently, and Sasha throws it.

“Nap time?” Demyan asks. I nod and he’s up and scooping Sasha into his arms before I can reach him.

I ready myself for Sasha’s stiff board act and crying, but he doesn’t. He just snuggles in against Demyan, and the look of triumph on Demyan’s face cuts deep.

As I follow them up to Sasha’s room, there’s a part of me that wishes Sasha wouldn’t bond with him quite so willingly. It’s stupid, I know, because I’m glad they are. But… I also want Demyan to suffer like I did. Even though he must be, knowing he missed out on two years of Sasha’s life.

Guilt floods me because I can see that pain, the crush of that punishment, and if his father was as bad as he said, then it must be worse than I’m imagining, because no doubt part of him thinks it’s his fault he didn’t have his son.

I stand at the door as Demyan puts him down, doing the things he’s seen me do. He sings softly to calm him. It’s a pretty tune, and he sings it in Russian. He has a nice voice.

Demyan strokes a hand over Sasha’s cheek as our son’s eyes close and his gentle, caring side is a beautiful thing.

And I can feel my panties dampen. Why did no one tell me how hot it is to see a big, strong man humbled by a child, to turn soft and sweet and show his underbelly.

Demyan rises and joins me. His gaze touches mine and it’s like he can see down into me.

As he pulls the door shut, I push him against the wall and grab a fistful of his shirt, rise up, and kiss him.

There’s a beat. Then he pulls me into his arms, his mouth on mine, kissing me so deep my heart is wild and my toes curl. It’s a kiss of heat and wonder. Of passion and need.

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