“What’s his name?”
“Kyle Hunter.”
“Hmm. I think I might’ve heard of him in Grandpa’s circle. Wait. Your last name is Sokolov, not Hunter.”
“It’s after Mom. Since Dad had a few last names and Mom’s last name belongs to Russian Bratva royalty, they decided to give it to their children. Nikolai Sokolov is actually my late great-grandfather’s name. I’m his gorgeous incarnation.”
I smile and shake my head. “I’m glad your family is acceptant despite, well, being in the mafia.”
“Mom and Dad are. My aunt and uncle—Kill and Gareth’s parents—too. Everyone else…meh, they’re still backward. I wouldn’t take a guy to meet my grandpa or uncles, for instance. That’d just turn ugly and no one needs that.”
“Does that mean you took a guy to meet your parents?”
“Does it count when they walk in on me? Because that was the only meetings that happened.”
“Jesus. You have more sex than Zeus.”
“Who’s that? A porn star?”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
He squints. “Pretty sure I’ve heard about him before. Is he an actor?”
“He’s a Greek god.”
“And he was a porn star?”
“No. He just…let’s say he shagged a lot. Like you.”
“Don’t be jealous, baby.”
“I am not.”
“Well, I am.”
“Of who?”
“Fucking Clara and everyone who saw you naked.”
“You need help.” I suppress a smile. “You’re the one who’s had more sex than me.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never had a relationship and I don’t feel fucking murderous about them like I do with you.”
My lips part and I clear my throat. “My relationships were a fa?ade. I never…cared about them.”
“And you care about me?”
“Shut up.” I wiggle free of his hold. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Wait for me!”
A huge body slams into mine, crashing me into the bed. I groan as I try to push him off me, but it’s impossible.
Partly because I don’t want his weight gone.
Nikolai lays his head on my chest, wraps his arm around my middle, and throws his leg over mine.
“You’re not going anywhere anymore.” He kisses my Adam’s apple. “Night, baby.”
A lump constricts my breathing and I can’t swallow past it as I stare sideways to find his face buried in my neck, his hair falling on the pillow.
His breathing soon evens out and I smile to myself.
Didn’t he say he doesn’t sleep in a bed?
I stroke his arm and kiss the top of his head. “Night, Niko.”
When I wake up, I realize two things.
One, somewhere in the middle of the night, our positions changed, and right now, my head is on Nikolai’s chest as he hugs me to him, his tattooed arm thrown over my middle—beneath my shirt—and his leg is between mine.
Two, if the clock on the nightstand that shows seven a.m. is correct, then I fucked up.
For the first time in eight years, I didn’t wake up at five. I don’t even do alarm clocks anymore. I am the clock. I always wake up at five. I always run at five thirty.
Not today.
I shattered my holy routine, and now, all the chaos will come rushing in.
What the fuck have I done?
Panic sobers me up in an instant and all the sleep haze disappears.
I start to get up, but Nikolai shoves me back down in his embrace.
His fingers spread on my back and he strokes the skin as he murmurs in a husky tone, “Ten more minutes.”
My exhales are fractured and choppy, and I’m forced to breathe in his body wash. I’m surrounded by his all-encompassing warmth, and it calms me down, for a very strange reason.
I shift and tilt my head to stare up at his face.
“Don’t go,” he lets out in a sleepy rumble.
And my heart swells so much, I’m surprised it doesn’t burst.
How can I go when he’s asking like that?
I caress his sharp jaw, swiping my thumb on his lower lip, and Nikolai releases a blissful moan that tucks its way between my bones.
His eyes slowly open, and I swear I can hear the shatter somewhere inside me when he grins. “Morning, baby.”
Shit.
“Morning,” I whisper, not trusting my voice or myself at this moment.
I try to get up and he tugs me down again. “Let’s cuddle some more.”
“You like cuddling?”
“With you, I do.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel special?”
“You know you are. You don’t need me to stroke your ego more.”
I smile. “Come on. I’ll make us breakfast.”
“Ten minutes.”
“I already missed my morning run. I don’t want to miss class.”
“It’s okay to miss a run. It’s not the end of the world.”
It is to me.
“I like my life in order.”
“Too bad I’m in it.”
“Does that mean you admit you’re chaotic?”
“Never denied it. I love corrupting you.”
“More like I’m leading you to the right path.”
He bursts out laughing, the sound husky and rich. “Good fucking luck trying.”
“I’m nothing if not up for a little challenge.”
“You mean huge.”
It’s my turn to chuckle and he pulls me closer against him, pressing my chest to his, tightening his hand on my back as if he’s scared I’ll disappear or something.
“Nikolai. You need to let me go.”
“Five minutes.”
“Fine.” I trace my fingers over his tattoos and stop when I reach a blank spot near his left pectoral muscle. “Is there a reason why you left this place empty?”
“Oh, that. It’s on my heart so I want to wait until I can think of something extra special.”
“Does that mean you plan to be covered in ink?”
“Fuck yeah. I have a lot of space on my back and thighs. Maybe you can sketch me something.”
“You’d want that?”
“Why not? You’re an artist, right?”
“I do landscapes.”
“I’m sure you can think of something as unique as me.”
“Your arrogance is astounding.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” He strokes the back of my neck. “Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?”
“No. I don’t like them on me. I prefer to leave my skin unblemished.”
“You’re so prim and proper.”
“Not all of us can wear tattoos. They look good on you, though.”
“Did you just admit to liking my tattoos?”
“I didn’t say I like them.”
“Fuck me. You do. You’re blushing, baby.”
“You’re dreaming.” I push away, and this time, I manage to disentangle myself. “I’m going to make breakfast.”
“Aw, don’t be shy. Come here.” He opens both arms, grinning like an idiot as I stride to the bathroom.
I manage to wash my face and brush my teeth without looking in the mirror, but I have to escape Nikolai again when he tries to grope me on my way out.
He’s seriously impossible.
Since there are virtually no groceries, I manage to make scrambled eggs and I stumble upon a half-eaten box of macarons and put the rest on a plate. He only knows how to buy pastries like a sweet-toothed monster.
I’m pouring water in the kettle for morning tea when a heavy arm wraps around my middle, a large chest presses to my back. Nikolai drops a kiss to my throat over a hickey he left last night before he rests his chin on my shoulder. “Can’t we go back to bed?”
“Stop being a baby and let me go. I can’t do anything when you’re all over me.”