by Katee Robert
Dmitri did not lose control. Not ever. And yet every time he turned around, he was doing exactly that with Keira.
He kicked the bedroom door shut behind him and bypassed the bed in favor of the tub. A hot soak wouldn’t help the scrapes, but it would ease the soreness. “Can you stand?”
“Yes, Dima, I can stand because I’m perfectly okay. It’s going to take more than a deliciously rough fucking to screw me up.”
He believed her, but that didn’t mean his actions were excused. He set her carefully on her feet and got the water running. Only then did he sit on the edge of the tub and set his hands on her hips. “Turn around.”
She rolled her eyes, but she obeyed. He sucked in a harsh breath. It was worse than he’d thought. “Keira—”
“No. Absolutely not.” She spun back to face him, her hazel eyes furious. “Tonight was good for me—all of it. Really fucking good. I need you to not ruin it with some crazy male guilt that you should be beyond. If you didn’t notice, I was screaming your name as I came for the third time on those stairs.” She glared. “And you don’t hear me losing my shit because I scratched your back to hell.”
“That’s different.” He welcomed the marks she left, the physical representation of her abandon.
But he recognized a losing battle when he saw one. As sick as her bruises left him, if he pushed this, he’d lose all the ground they’d covered tonight—and likely more. She had him cornered and she damn well knew it. He clenched his jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. “Let me take care of you.”
“You have been taking care of me.” She stepped between his thighs and slid her fingers through his hair. “But I’ll make you a deal. You can hover over and mother hen me for the duration of this bath, then you’ll slap some Neosporin on my scrapes, give me a couple ibuprofen, and we’ll eat leftovers in bed. Or not in bed. I don’t give a fuck, but once the endorphins wear off, I’m going to be hungry.”
She was handling him—offering him tasks to redirect his guilt. He almost fought her on it, but what was the point? If she said she was fine, and he didn’t take her at her word, he wasn’t honoring the vision he’d painted for her. She didn’t believe him when he offered for her to be his queen in truth, and overriding her on something that she considered small—even if he didn’t—would confirm her belief that he was lying about everything else.
He dropped his forehead to rest between her breasts. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, moya koroleva.”
“I know.” She kept stroking her fingers through his hair. “But at least I’m giving you a choice at all.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Keira waited for Dmitri to walk out of the bathroom to climb into the tub. She was grateful he wasn’t there to see her flinch as the hot water stung her scrapes. Though she’d been telling him the truth, it didn’t change the fact that her back was a fucking mess. From the glimpse she’d snuck in the mirror, she’d be an ugly rainbow tomorrow, which meant she’d have to pick a different dress or she’d give her family a heart attack. Somehow, Keira didn’t think they’d believe her if she told them that Dmitri hadn’t been beating her—they’d just had gloriously rough sex on the stairs.
She carefully leaned against the back of the tub. Keira had never thought the day would come when Dmitri looked spooked, but he’d been a little too wide around the eyes in the last ten minutes. Giving him a task to soothe him was manipulative, but she didn’t know how to help him realize that she was really okay.
He reappeared before she had a ready answer, a book dangling from one hand. Those gray eyes studied her as if she was in danger of bleeding out the second he looked away. She bit down on the urge to tell him—again—that she was fine. The more she protested, the more convinced he’d be that she was lying to make him feel better.
So she just sat there and waited.
Finally, he crossed the tiled room and grabbed a small bench she hadn’t noticed before then. Dmitri dropped it next to the tub and took a seat. “You need at least thirty minutes in the hot water.”
Do not argue with the irrational man. “Okay.”
He eyed her like he knew she was just humoring him. “Do you read much fantasy?”
She tilted her head, trying to see the cover of the book in his hands. “I prefer the sexy stuff.”
Something in him relaxed as he chuckled. “I can see that. This is one of my favorites, and an excellent way to pass the time.”
This was his rodeo—at least for the next thirty minutes until she got out of this bath—so she made a show of settling in on her side so she could face him. “I never pegged you for a fiction reader. The classics, sure, but not contemporary books.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows rose. “What kind of reader did you peg me for?”
“I don’t know.” She swirled her hand through the water. “I just figured you read The Art of War over and over again until you can quote it at the drop of a hat.”
“‘To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.’”
Her jaw dropped. “I knew it!”
Amusement flickered to life in his eyes, chasing away some of the worry. “It’s an excellent resource—one you should tap as well.”
“Yeah, yeah, enough with the lessons. Read me this fantasy novel.” She made a show of being the apt pupil—which would have worked out a lot better if she wasn’t naked in the tub without even a shield of bubbles and he wasn’t sitting there in only a pair of lounge pants. “Is there a farm boy who needs to go on a journey to realize he’s the savior of the world like every single Lord of the Rings rip-off ever?”
He gave her a mock severe look. “If you’ll be quiet, you’ll find out.” He waited for her to obey, and then began to read.
Keira was instantly enraptured by his voice. Most people didn’t have the cadence to read books aloud—they went too fast or too slow or didn’t breathe in the right places. It stood to figure that Dmitri wasn’t most people. His accent only added to the experience as he immersed her in the story. She watched his face as he spoke, loving the fact that she could do it without being caught because he was focused on the words on the page.
It didn’t take long to discover why this was a favorite. The hero of the story was a bard who was smarter and wilier than everyone around him, even if those same wits got him into trouble as often as they got him out of it. No doubt Dmitri saw bits of himself in the man.
As the story played out, her bathwater cooled, but she was loath to break the moment. It was well past the thirty-minute limit when Dmitri frowned and shook his head as if shaking off a daze. “You must be starving.”
She was, but this moment felt more important than a few hunger pangs. “I was enjoying myself.”
“How does your back feel?”
“It hurts like a bitch, but I’m not the least bit sorry.” She grinned. “Though I might need some help out of the tub.”
He sighed. “There will be no reasoning with you, will there?”
“Nope.” She didn’t want his guilt—she just wanted him. The sex was beyond amazing, but the quiet moments that kept cropping up were just as important to Keira. She didn’t want him holding back for any of it. She wanted all of him. “Now take me to bed and feed me.”
Dmitri shook his head, but the guilt remained at bay. He pulled the stopper on the tub and helped her stand. Her back had tightened up from staying in one position too long, but she fought to keep her expression neutral as she stepped out of the tub and allowed him to dry her. He cursed. “You don’t have to be strong for me.”
“I don’t know about that—you threw a hissy fit earlier.”
“A hissy fit.”
She glared at him, though there was no heat behind it. “Yes, Dima, a hissy fit. What else do you call that freak-out? I was lying there, trying to soak up the glory of postorgasmic bliss, and you were going into hysterics.”
His brows dropped. “Conc
ern for you is hardly hysterics.”
“I am not breakable. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be on both of us.” She strode past him and into the bedroom. The food they’d bought was set up on an honest-to-God tray designed for breakfast in bed. She shook her head, because there was no other appropriate response. Keira didn’t bother with clothes as she climbed onto the mattress and picked up her fork. “This looks freaking amazing.”
“Moya koroleva, you can’t just change the subject because you’re done talking about it.”
She shot him a look. “Yes, actually, I can. I just did, in fact.” She took a bite of her fancy-ass mac and cheese and chewed. Even cold, it was fantastic. “We’re going to have to go back and eat there, but without all the finger fucking.”
He gave another of those put-upon sighs and climbed onto the bed next to her. “Once you’re finished eating, I’ll treat your wounds.”
“Scratches, not wounds.” She waved her fork at him. “See what I mean? Hysterics.” She let them eat for a few minutes—mostly because she really was starving—and then paused to take a drink of her water. “Do you push the visitation with Hadley because you want a hold over Olivia or because you actually care about your niece?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, I think it does.” It was one thing that had never fit with the cold bastard he presented to the world. Her brothers and even Olivia thought it evidence that he was just that much of a bastard, but she didn’t think that was it at all.
He set down his fork. “You’re still trying to make me Prince Charming.”
“Bullshit—though that was a nice dodge. I see you better than most, and you know it. Now, answer the question.” She waited for a few seconds and then poked him in the arm with her fork. “I know you get off on being the one with all the cards, but you’re going to have to open up eventually. It might as well be now.”
Dmitri frowned. “My sister and niece are the last family I have left.” When Keira shot him a look, he growled. “It is impossible not to love that girl, and you know it. She’s sunshine and innocence and all the things that shrivel up in our world. It gives me hope that Olivia and Cillian love her so much, because they will shield her from the worst of it.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard.” Keira smiled. “Hadley loves you, too, you know. After your visits, she prances around for days bragging about how wonderful her uncle is. It drives my brothers batty.” Knowing that he loved his niece shouldn’t give her hope. Just because he was capable of familial love didn’t mean he’d be capable of actually falling in love, let alone with Keira.
She might as well wish on a star—it would give it the same odds of happening.
* * *
Dmitri saw the moment Keira’s mood plummeted, but he couldn’t begin to guess what caused it. She’d been fine, chatting and flirting and not acting at all like he’d done damage to her a short time ago. Between one breath and the other, she…wilted. She pushed her plate away. “I think the day just caught up with me.”
It could be that. It could be that he was looking too deeply into things because he felt guilty.
Or it could be that she was withdrawing from him for reasons unknown.
He cleared the food and took the time to deliver it to the kitchen. The house was quiet around him as he headed back upstairs. There would be patrols at irregular intervals—both internally and externally. It wasn’t something he bothered with most of the time, but he’d never had a traitor in his home before. Caught between the need to remove anyone that couldn’t be trusted and the requirement of having more than just Pavel to protect the house…there weren’t any good options.
When he arrived back at the room, he found Keira brushing her teeth in the bathroom. It was such a mundane thing that something inside him clicked into place. This was right—her in his room, in his home, in his life. He’d known it before, but tonight only solidified that feeling. Where else in the world would he find a woman who was this intoxicating mix of strong and soft, harsh and flirty?
He wouldn’t.
He pulled a bottle of Neosporin from the drawer. “It might be best to sleep in a shirt.”
“Get me one of yours.”
The sheer rightness of the moment staggered him. He nodded, trying to keep the revelation from his face, trying to lock down the whirlwind of emotions hitting him with the force of a hurricane. I love her. He found a soft T-shirt and brought it to her. “Turn around, moya koroleva.”
She sighed, but she did as he commanded, bracing her hands on the bathroom counter. Dmitri pressed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. “Why did you retreat from me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He raised his eyebrows at her reflection in the mirror. “Opening up goes both ways.” While she chewed on that piece of information, he quickly dabbed some of the ointment onto the scrapes on her back. The bruises would be spectacular, but she was right about the scrapes being exactly that—scrapes.
“It’s nothing. I’m just being unforgivably sentimental.” She sighed and turned to take the T-shirt from him. “We keep going around again and again. I know what this is. I do, Dima—I swear it. But sometimes the lines get blurry and I forget for a little while, and when I remember, it’s a downer.” She made a visible effort to straighten her shoulders and get her smile back into place. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
He had to pick through her words to understand what she was actually saying, but when he did…Dmitri found himself holding his breath. “You’re falling for me.” Her flinch had him correcting, “You’ve already fallen.”
“Call it temporary insanity.”
She tried to brush past him, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Keira, wait.”
“If you’re going to give me another lecture on how this isn’t a love match and I’m a fool for forgetting that, there’s no need—I’m doing a damn good job of giving it to myself.”
Fuck, she was killing him. He pulled her into his arms. “I love you, too.” And then again in Russian. “Ya lyublyu tebya, moya koroleva.”
She froze. “Don’t fuck with me like this. It’s cruel.”
“I can be cruel.” He framed her face, tipping her head back so she looked into his eyes. He did his best to lower the masks he held in place through habit and let her see what she’d come to mean to him. “But I’m being honest right now. I never planned on it, but then, I never planned on you.”
“You…you mean it?” she whispered.
“Da.” He smoothed back her hair. “How could I not?”
Her lower lip quivered, the tiniest of movements. “Take me to bed.”
He let his forehead drop to rest against hers. “If I do to you want I want to, it will hurt you with your current injuries.”
“Dmitri Romanov, you just told me you love me. If you don’t make love to me to prove it, I’ll never forgive you.”
He found himself smiling, even as his concern for her back dampened his desire. “I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re right. You won’t. You’ll lie on your back and let me decide what hurts me and what doesn’t.” She ran her hands up his chest and kissed him. “I need you, Dima.”
I need you, Dima.
The magic words of his undoing.
He could deny this woman nothing when she wielded them against him. He backed toward the bed, towing her with him. “This wasn’t what I intended.”
“Yeah, you couldn’t be clearer about that.” She shook her head and gave him a little push. He allowed himself to sprawl back on the bed, his mouth going dry as Keira climbed to straddle him. She stroked his cock, her gaze never leaving his face. “You love me.”
“I love you.” It got easier to say it every time.
Her brows pinched together. “You’re not saying that because you think Alethea Eldridge is going to murder us all tomorrow and this is your way of getting some action before the battle, is it?”
“I believe we already estab
lished that wasn’t my plan.” He gave her the look that accusation deserved. “As evidenced by the marks all over your back, I don’t need to lie to you to get inside you.”
She gave him a squeeze. “Now, now. Those are fighting words. A girl likes to feel valued and not taken for granted.”
He bent up to kiss her. “You’re not taken for granted, moya koroleva.”
“Good.” She pushed him back to a prone position and guided his cock to her entrance. “Now let me take advantage of you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Keira spent most of the next day in a whirlwind of activity that did nothing to distract her from her tangled thoughts. Dmitri said he loved me. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe it so much, she practically vibrated from that need. If she were any other woman—if he were any other man—she would believe with no qualms.
But she wasn’t any other woman. She was only herself.
Dmitri wasn’t any other man. He was manipulative and ambitious and surprisingly tender, all wrapped up in a complicated package.
So instead of feeling the bliss of the newly in love, she kept deconstructing every moment they’d ever spent together, trying to see it from different angles. Dmitri was so damn smart, so damn calculating, and it wasn’t like he’d suddenly stopped being those things now that he claimed to care about her.
More than anything, she wanted to call someone to talk it out. Charlie was quickly becoming one of her best friends, but the woman didn’t exactly have much in the way of relationship experience—aside from Aiden—and her loathing of Dmitri would color any advice. Keira’s sister Carrigan wasn’t much better, but…
No. She had to figure this one out herself.
As Mark had said when she’d ordered him out of the house—she wasn’t an O’Malley anymore. She had made that choice.
She took an extra-long shower, wishing she could wash away her confusion as easily. Stupid of her to be so focused on it when they had all hell breaking loose in a few short hours, but she couldn’t stop.