Page 42 of Wicked Knight 2

“Signs of head trauma.” I needed him to tell me what happened to him. I didn’t believe this bullshit story that he was in Russia for the past year. How the hell did he get there and back? “You said there were two attempts on your life. I know about the shooting a few weeks ago. What happened before that?”

“I can’t.” He sat on the mattress and braced his arms on his thighs.

“You can trust me.” I kneeled in front of him.

“It isn’t that. I just can’t.” He met my gaze. “It hurts when I try to remember.”

“What happened?” I cradled his face.

“Nothing.” He took my hands in his. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” I let out a small laugh.

“Galina won’t be up for another couple of hours. Let’s go raid her kitchen.” He winked at me. “Get dressed.”

I donned my nightgown, which was just one of Maxim’s T-shirts. It was long enough to cover my butt, so I didn’t bother with pants. Maxim grabbed his pajama pants, and to my delight, he decided to forgo the top. With a smile, he took my hand and pulled me toward him.

Like thieves in the night, we descended the stairs, crossed the living room, then found the steps that led to the kitchen. It was dark and empty, but Maxim knew his way around. He padded toward the fridge and took out a platter piled with Galina’s thin Russian pancakes.

“What are you making?” I hopped on the table.

“Blini for breakfast.”

“Are you sure? I didn’t know tough mobsters could cook,” I teased. I already knew Luca made the best egg and chicken sausage scramble.

“I don’t get to do it often.” He laughed. “Galina doesn’t like to share her kitchen.”

“She’s very good at what she does.” My gaze followed him around the room as he collected a pan, butter, powered sugar, strawberries and condensed milk from the pantry and cabinets. “I bet she’s been here since you were little.”

He stopped to exhale. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Probing?” He cocked an eyebrow before he placed the pan on the stove.

“I just want to know more about you.” I let my legs fall open. “That’s all. I’m your wife, remember? I need to know certain things.”

His gaze zeroed in on my crotch. The T-shirt was long enough so that he couldn’t see my pussy. But if he wanted to see, all he had to do was give the fabric a little tug.

“Are you trying to seduce information out of me, Mrs. Belov?” He waved a spatula in the air. “How about we eat first.”

“So stubborn.” I braced my hands behind me, while I regarded his form. I’d gotten older in the last few years. He’d gotten hotter. That wasn’t fair.

He finished cooking, then made a single plate. At first, I figured he meant for us to share. But when I reached for the fork, he slapped my hand away. “You need to pay the toll?”

“What toll?”

“You want a bite? Show me.” His gaze dropped to my legs.

A current of desire swirled up into the seam of my pussy lips. I glanced behind me, then pulled back the hem of my T-shirt. His eyes turned dark with lust while his gaze bore into mine. I could see the wheels in his head turning as he decided what to do with me. When I reached for him, he placed my hand behind me, sucked on two of his fingers and slid them into me.

“Hmm.” I leaned back to give him access.

“Eat.” He used his free hand to cut a piece of blini and then fed it to me.

The berries and condensed milk were a delicious combination that wasn’t overly sweet. I’d had the pancakes before, but not prepared like this.

“Wow, that’s really good.” I chewed my food and swallowed. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.”

“Me too.” He applied pressure with his fingers, then fed me another forkful.

“Hmm.” I let my head fall back. “We can’t do this here.”

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