Page 127 of Nikola
I waved my hand nonchalantly.
“Therapy.” She shot me a shocked look, and I couldn’t help but smile wryly. “Ironic, right? I told you that you’d need therapy after me and here I am?—”
Her brows furrowed. “You’re seeing a therapist because of me?”
Fuck.I was messing this all up.
“No, no. It was a bad joke. It was because of my legs. Forget about the therapist. In fact, forget I said anything.” I kissed her soft lips.
Cupping her cheek, I leaned my forehead and rested it on hers, breathing her in. Her oxygen. Her life. Her everything.
I was scared as fuck to let go.
52
SKYE
Aslightly desperate look in Nikola’s eyes was telling me he was holding something back. My instinct warned me it had something to do with his therapist, but instead of questioning him, I decided I’d leave it alone. For now.
“Do you still want to show me your… surprise?” I asked hesitantly.
“Of course. That’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.” Nikola pulled me closer, so close that our lips were a hair’s breadth apart, and kissed me with that familiar possession. His inked fingers came to rest on my hips and latched on to them. “And I mean it, Skye. Don’t you dare starve yourself. I love you just the way you are. Besides, this way I can hold on to something when…”
He never finished the sentence, but it was enough to set me alight.
But rather than caving into my desires, I signed with shaky fingers and lust in my veins, “Let’s go before you turn to filthy talk, Nikola, and we forget about whatever plans you have. You know how much I love surprises.”
He chuckled. “Don’t I know it.”
It’d been like this since I arrived. He’d surprise me with dates, dinners, or even frequenting Mardi Gras. And then there was my favorite: staying home. I loved cuddling up and making out while the movie played in the background, but we never went further than kissing and innocent petting.
It was as if he was waiting for something.
Once we were in the car, I expected the driver to take us to downtown New Orleans.
Instead, it was a short ride and we found ourselves in front of an exquisite white Italianate-Greek Revival home with historical charm but all the modern luxuries, such as surveillance cameras and an electric gated entry that surrounded lush gardens.
“Where are we?”
“Our home.” I shot him a surprised look. “My parents’ property borders this one in the southeast. I figured we’d want some privacy.”
“Oh.”
“Is that a good oh or bad oh?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Somehow I always pictured you—us—in your parents’ home.”
“Not me. They’ll be close enough for visits, but this is just for us.” I struggled to follow his words and moods. “We can raise our children here one day.”
“So we’re back to children, huh?”
Something was definitely wrong. This wasn’t like Nikola, and his sudden talk about children was setting me on edge.
“I don’t want you to miss out on anything.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. I’d never thought about kids before today. Maybe I was terrified of passing on the gene Mama and I carried that would destine my children to a life without hearing. Or maybe because I was only twenty years old.
“What if I don’t want kids?”
