Page 19 of Scarlet Sins (Yegorov Bratva #2)

Chapter Sixteen

DEMYAN

Erin sits up, turning pale, and grabs my sweater, holding it against her gorgeous tits like it’s some kind of fucking barrier.

Maybe I’m fucking wrong, but I know I’m not. The paleness, the way she shakes, tells me that. I’d hoped when I’d kissed her belly, held it, I’d feel some kind of difference.

But I didn’t.

I know enough about pregnancy and babies that she’s probably not going to show, that it’s so tiny inside her it’s not more than a mass of reproducing cells. I know those cells aren’t going to kick or make her stomach swell, but…

I’d hoped.

Somehow, I’d know.

That maybe I had a sixth sense or that first time we fucked when I found her again I’d knocked her up, but it’s not that long ago. She’s in the first trimester at my reckoning.

She licks her lips and swallows.

“How did you know?” she whispers.

Erin eases off me and looks around for something to wear.

I get up and pull on my jeans, not bothering to button them.

I’m soft enough I can tuck away, but there’s still the burning need to have her again, to keep marking her until she sobs it out she’s mine in every way, that she loves me with every single cell in her body.

That she’ll fight for us, even if that means waiting through this fucked-up Stefina thing.

I shrug. “I didn’t. Not one hundred percent sure, anyway. I knew one of you might be with you both going to see Alina’s OB-GYN.”

She gives me a look that’s like betrayal and I half smile.

“I found her the doctor. I still get alerts when she goes. She needed a guardian to step in when she wanted to go on the pill.” I take a breath, taking the T-shirt I wore beneath the sweater and pulling it on.

Perversely, I don’t want her to find her panties or do up her bra, or put on the dress, so I sit on the dress.

Erin notices but pulls on my sweater, pushing up the two long sleeves.

“She was seventeen—it doesn’t matter. Point is I didn’t know, but you, right now, confirmed it.” I keep my voice soft. “How long have you known?”

Erin sits on the sofa, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them as she stares at the dancing flames. Then she swallows, her shoulders deflating, and I don’t think I’m going to like her answer.

If she found out at the doctor, that’s one thing, but… “Erin?”

Her gaze shifts to me, those pretty blue eyes on me, the flames turning her blonde hair gold. “Since before the kidnapping. When I was in hospital.”

I go still.

Fuck. I’m pissed. And I count to ten to stop myself from exploding.

I get up and pace, eating up the space in front of the fire like I’m eradicating what we just did.

I cut my eyes to her. “Didn’t you fucking trust me enough to tell me?

What did you think I’d do? Throw you out?

It’s enough that I missed out on all this time with Sasha, which common sense says I should understand, and I do.

To a point. But to do it again? Was that your goal? To hurt me?”

“No.”

I stop, breath slow. “Or is it you just don’t love me? Or love me enough?”

“Demyan.” Erin gets to her feet and looks up at me, eyes pleading. “Of course I do.”

“Then what?”

“Stefina.”

I stare at her. “What? Why? How? Stefina? Did she do something? Somehow work it out and threaten you?”

“No.” She lifts her chin. “No, Demyan. I love you and I trust you, I do. She didn’t do a thing; she doesn’t know. I doubt she spares me more than a passing thought. But you’re marrying another woman. You’re marrying her. And I just… what’s going to happen?”

“What’s going to happen is I’m marrying you, not Stefina.”

“Demyan, we both know there’s more to this than marriage. This is a deal. And what if this woman doesn’t want me or the baby or Sasha in your life?”

“I decide that, not her. If I married her, which I’m not going to.”

She nods but her misery rolls oof her in waves and hooks into me deep and I don’t know how to heal this. I love her. Erin.

“Surely,” she whispers, “you can understand my hesitation.”

No, I don’t fucking understand. I’m furious, hurt, and… fuck. Ilya’s words come back to me.

I need to make sure she understands how I feel.

I’m not a guy who’s soft naturally. I don’t do the support group hand-holding stuff and long-ass discussions of delicate feelings. I’m the top of the food chain. I deal in primal. Sure, I make deals, but that’s all head and no heart and this…

This is Erin.

My Erin.

The only fucking woman who’s ever managed to turn my life inside out, and she managed that from when she rose from my bath like fucking Venus.

Back then it wasn’t love, but it was real. The connection, the need. That thing which seared us both and…

I move up to her and maybe she sees something in my eyes because she stumbles back, a mix of fear and excitement in her face as she hits the sofa and sits. I continue until I’m brushing up against her and I go down on my knees, hands on her thighs, and I look her in the eye.

“Make sure you take a good, long look, Lyubimaya .”

“At what?”

I take her chin in one hand. “Me. I want you to look me in the eye and see if what I say is what I mean. I know I don’t say things I don’t mean and you should, too.”

“You told me I wouldn’t see my son again when you found us.”

Shit, that fucking kicks me hard in the gut. But I try to remember what I said. “I was furious, hurt. I was cruel. I know that and I’ve apologized. I apologize again, Erin. I am sorry I hurt you.” I pause. “But I don’t think I ever said you wouldn’t. Just I might not let you and we would see.”

Erin’s eyes narrow and they’re bright, swimming with unshed tears.

What I just said hits hard. “Not my finest moment. Erin… this… all of this is new. I calmed down, I let you out, and we got close. We fell in love.” I stop.

“I love you, Erin. I’m in love with you.

No one before has come close to you. No one ever will.

Okay? And Sasha… he was so unexpected, a perfect little boy, mine.

And it was like something I didn’t know was missing had been gouged out deeper. ”

“Demyan …”

The strangled note in her voice undoes me.

“No, Erin, I’m just saying I don’t lie about the important things. I love you. I love him. I love this baby. The timing is shit, but who the fuck cares?”

“Me,” she whispers brokenly. “Me. I care.”

“I’m trying to say that I said stupid things in anger, but I didn’t lie. And have I once said anything along the lines of love to Stefina that you’ve heard? Have I treated her with anything more than annoyance or tightly controlled civility?”

She stares at me, eyes darting, like she’s looking for the secrets I don’t have, for the answers I should. She’s searching for assurances. “No.”

I breathe out. “I don’t like her. I find her annoying and idiotic.

I should feel sorry for her because I know the life a lot of the women have in this world.

Not Alina because my father doted on her and I protected her.

But the thing is I don’t. And I’ll get out of marrying Stefina if it’s the last thing I do. ”

“What if you don’t, Demyan?” she asks.

“I will,” I growl. “I fucking love you. I own you, you’re mine, and you should know that by now. I’ll risk my life for you over and over. And if you don’t know this, don’t feel this deep down, then there’s something seriously wrong.”

“I know, but I’m just scared.”

“Don’t ever be scared around me, Lyubimaya. ”

I lean in and kiss her softly, claiming her sweet mouth, the salt of an escaped tear, the heat and addictive taste of her. I deepen it and she opens for me, her tongue mine, stroking against me, a delicate dance of fledgling trust, and with it the beat of love.

And as I kiss her, I slide my hand up between her thighs, stroking the velvet of her cunt’s lips, teasing her open and pushing two fingers into her.

I swallow down her small cry of need, and I relish the heat and tight stretch of her around my fingers, the way her walls cling, the hardness of her clit as I flick it with my thumb, giving her enough of the bite of roughness I know she likes.

Her hips rock, and she moves, sliding forward to get more, but I let go of her chin and hold her hips in place, wanting to control it, to bring her every last ounce of pleasure. Her cunt’s a butterfly against my fingers, fluttering as she builds toward release.

I know her well enough to know how to make it fast and dirty or slow and blooming. And I want it a little of both, so I keep the rhythm steady, a little faster than I would for the slow buildup, but not fast enough to make it a dirty explosion.

She pants into my mouth and I kiss my way over to her ear, sucking in her lobe, biting soft, and then I kiss and lick my way along her throat, settling over the rushing beat of blood of her artery as my fingers continue to thrust deep within her.

Erin’s getting there, and when she’s close, her moans and whimpers fast now, I slip the hand holding her hips between her legs, dip my finger into her cunt, and then I work it into her ass and start to thrust in tandem.

She moans high and comes hard, and I drop down, move my thumb from her clit to lick and suck and work her holes so she tumbles down into another orgasm.

Erin pulls hard at my hair and she’s babbling my name, crying, and it goes on for a sweet forever, the convulsions of her orgasm hard on my fingers, the throb alive against my tongue on her clit.

When she’s reached peak level pleasure and it gets to the point where she starts to try to twist and turn away, I keep going and going, not bringing her another one, keeping her on that knife edge of pleasure and overwhelming her as she shudders and gasps and tries to get away.

It’s only when she begs me that I finally let her go. Reluctantly.

I ease my fingers out of her as I raise my head and come up to her, wiping my mouth deliberately over her tits that are covered by my sweater. And I say, “Promise me.”

Erin gasps. “Promise… promise… you… what?”