Page 6 of Scarlet Sins (Yegorov Bratva #2)

I don’t know what to do with this version of him.

Or maybe I’m just tired and happy to be safe, reunited with my son.

Our son. And… I touch my belly. I need to tell him.

But I need the shower more. The thought of scrubbing that place off me, of ridding myself of the fact that cretin Niko watched me pee.

I’ll pick the time, something good, when I’m sure he’s relaxed and not too vulnerable like now.

Demyan looks at me and a thrill passes through my blood. The heat in his gaze, that openness, it’s something I want as mine.

He guides me into the bathroom, then heads out.

Thing is, I think as I strip, he’s not a man given to that kind of openness and vulnerabilities and I don’t want to bombard him with more things.

And I want to know we’re in a good place, after this strange euphoria wears off.

I make the water hotter and climb in, scrubbing myself all over. And then I let the hot needles pummel me cleaner, if that’s possible.

Finally, I get out and dry off, wrapping the big bath sheet around me. He’s not back, so I raid his walk-in closet, pulling out a workout shirt of his and putting it on.

It’s clean, but somehow has a slight Demyan scent to it. Detergent, maybe? It might be one of the subtle scents that mingle to make Demyan so irresistible.

I’m climbing into bed when he comes in with a tray. There’s fruit, a sandwich, soup, and hot chocolate that smells sinful and that’s what I choose.

It tastes even better.

“Eat some soup.”

“Demyan.”

“Erin.”

With a sigh, I set the mug, down and dip the spoon into the homemade chicken noodle soup and dutifully swallow a mouthful.

It’s delicious and I eat it all, filling my belly. But the moment I put the sandwich down, he cracks a bottle of water and points to the sandwich, then sets the bottle on the nightstand.

“No, Lyubimaya , sandwich, then the fruit.”

I try to hide my smile as I take one bite, then reach for the hot chocolate and take some more sips. He takes it and pushes the water into my hands. Then he fluffs the pillows and turns the lights low so the room’s golden and warm.

And… I’m going to scream.

“Demyan.” I have a sip of the water, then put it down, then I eat a berry and push the tray away. “I’m full and stop fussing. Please.”

He frowns, and he’s so like Sasha in that moment my heart wobbles and melts.

“Demyan,” I say again. “I love all the attention, I do, but you don’t need to do it. I’m happy I’m back. With you. With Sasha. You don’t need to fuss.”

His frown deepens and he picks up the tray. “I was just…” He stomps to the door and puts it outside, then closes it and stomps back.

You’d think I’d just tried to cut out his heart.

“I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me. I’m not good at this shit, okay?” The gruff accusation in his voice warms me and he sits on the bed, still frowning. Then he shakes his head and pushes a hand through his hair. “I fucking love you so much and if anything had happened to you?—”

I kiss him. I climb up onto his lap, kissing him and shutting him up. Oh, I could listen to his ham-fisted words of love, his attempts to show it forever. I’ll take the gruffness over smooth words, a tray of soup and hot chocolate over champagne and diamonds, or hothouse roses any day.

“I’m fine.” I hold his head between my hands and kiss him again, his mouth warm, delicious, a whiskey taste which tells me he chose that over vodka while I was showering. And… the faintest hint of chocolate. “Sasha is fine.”

I kiss him once more, his lips parting and our tongues touching. It sends an electric pulse through me.

But I know why I haven’t told him yet about the baby. It’s his, and he’s got a right to know. I need answers, though. So I take a deep breath. “I think we should talk about Stefina?—”

“No, it’s all good. Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

He kisses me, slow and soft and romantic, and it makes my head spin and my stomach perform flips.

Demyan lifts his head. “I said I’ve handled it. It’s all good, Erin. Now, unless you want to get ravaged, go back to bed.”

“I don’t want to go back to bed,” I say. “I want you.”

“Erin…”

“I want to feel something good. Your kind of good, Demyan.”

His gaze glitters. And then he kisses me hard, a deep, carnal kiss as he slides me down on the bed. His hand slips up my thigh. “Oh, Lyubimaya , wet and naked under my shirt, just what the doctor ordered.”

I laugh and bite his shoulder. “Your doctor or mine?”

He pulls back. “Yours. He said get her wet and willing and begging for sex.” The smug maleness of him makes me throb deep within and he stands, stripping slowly, and his gorgeous body, broad with all those carved muscles revealed to me.

I don’t think it’s a sight I’ll ever get sick of.

As he slides into bed, he takes me in his arms, his erection brushing me. But he’s in no hurry.

“If you’re up to it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my ear.

A thrill washes through me. “With you, always.”

He smiles, and then he kisses me deep as he parts my thighs, dipping into the wetness there. Demyan starts to move down, clearly heading south under the covers, but I grip his hair, stopping him. “No. I need you. Hard and fast.”

“I don’t?—”

“You’re not going to hurt me.” I swallow. “I just want all those memories of being taken banished by you. ”

And I draw him back in, kissing him.

He doesn’t need further encouragement. I don’t want romance right now. I want to be claimed, I need to be claimed by him, like he’s showing me how that other woman is gone and I’m his. That the marriage of convenience he brokered is now dead in the water, that he’s mine like I’m his.

Demyan’s mouth is hot, fierce, and he covers me, nudging my thighs farther apart as his rigid cock pushes into me, stretching me. I moan and bite his shoulder and he takes me hard. Each thrust cleanses me, makes me closer to him, and I wrap my thighs about him.

I lift my hips and with each slam he gets deeper, and my body tightens, the pleasure pulsating in me, needing freedom.

He’s not gentle. The savage thrusts are declarations of ownership. A claim. And I welcome each and every one.

My thoughts start to fracture as the pleasure builds inside, and soon it breaks, throwing me up into the orgasm, my release contracting hard on his cock in me, and it’s almost too much as he rises, thrusting deeper, making me shake and shudder and cry out.

And then he comes, too, his hot seed filling me in spurts.

We collapse down and he kisses a path over me, pushing the T-shirt up to kiss and suck on my nipples, a sweet agony I welcome. Then he lifts his head. “Are you okay?”

“I’m with you,” I whisper. “Yes. Thank you, I needed… I needed that.”

I needed him.

He smiled, but the concern is in his eyes as he tucks me away in his arms. Exhaustion crushes down, and I drift off.

Safe and secure.

It’s a dreamless sleep, one that slides into something like almost awake.

I’m with Demyan, and he’s loving, holding me, and it’s not enough.

My body throbs with need and words tumble from me in this waking dream.

Then my body comes alive. He’s wet and hot, softly lapping at me.

I’m taken from that place with waves of delicious slow pleasure, and I come fully awake, to find Demyan between my thighs, licking and sucking, his fingers buried in me, rocking me into a crashing orgasm.

“Oh my God.”

He laughs and raises his head, coming up from under the covers. “You asked so sweetly, how could I resist?”

“I did?”

“A thick with sleep voice said ‘Demyan, please…’”

I stare at him as he pulls me into his arms. “I did?”

“Yeah.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face. “I fucking love you, Erin.”

Last night I fell asleep before telling him about the baby and as his words of love roll through me, making my heart race, I say, “I love you, too.”

I need to tell him.

“Demyan —”

Someone knocks on the door and he pulls the covers up just as it opens.

Alina pops her head in, and she looks very uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. Demyan, you need to come to the living room. Now.”