Page 39

CHAPTER 38

EMERY

It’s so, so hard to pretend I’m not affected by Alexei as much as I am. There might be a language barrier between his mother and me, but her gaze is knowing.

I feel utterly transparent.

When we’re together, everything fades away, replaced by this wild, fizzy wonder. Like champagne bubbling up inside me. Joyful. Light. Dangerous in its own way. Like celebration trapped under skin, aching to be released.

The sandwiches and cookies were a distraction device. I have filled my week with them: childcare research, big cooking projects, extra-hard workouts, and so many trips to the park.

Anything to pretend that I’m just a temporary nanny. A helping friend.

Not… more .

But then he came home and wrapped himself around me, literally and figuratively, and it turns out, even sandwiches and cookies don’t lie about what we are to each other.

I need to talk to him as soon as they get back from the park.

Right on cue, the front door opens.

Unfortunately, the first thing I hear is the screaming protest of an unhappy two-year-old.

“Emmy,” Inessa sobs in the foyer.

Alexei’s sigh is so audible, it carries all the way into the kitchen.

I exchange a nervous look with Maria.

“Go,” she says, smiling, her eyes twinkling like she’s happy it’s no longer a plaintive Baba cry all the time. “I’m going downstairs now. Time to rest.”

My heart squeezes as I pop my head into the hallway. “What’s up, baby girl?”

She wrenches out of her little pink coat and falls down.

Alexei tips his face up to the ceiling and counts backwards.

“Frustrating walk back from the park?” I whisper, touching his arm for a second before I crouch down next to Inessa.

“You could say that,” he growls. “She wanted to take big steps all on her own. But her legs literally aren’t as long as mine.”

I swallow a laugh.

Then I touch Inessa’s hand and whisper, “Was it hard to take big steps?”

She climbs to her feet and throws herself at me, nodding.

I pat her back. “Did you try shrinking the world?”

Both father and daughter look at me in confusion.

I keep a straight face, and keep whispering. “You’re a giant girl.”

Inessa giggles. “No.”

“So big.”

“Emmy silly.” But now she’s laughing, not crying.

“And your Papa is tiny .”

She twists away from me and stomps over to him, growling exactly the same way he does. “Tiny,” she repeats.

He stares down at her.

She stares back.

And then she twirls away and runs to the kitchen, cackling.

Alexei’s unreadable gaze shifts to me, and I squirm inside, remembering our heated conversation about daycare.

But then, as I stand, Alexei pulls me up and into his arms and plants a fast, hard kiss on my mouth.

Fizzy fizzy joy.

Damn it.

“How did you do that?” he asks when he lets me go.

“Oh, um…” I shrug. “TikTok. Whispers cut through the big feelings. And then like, echo the problem and try to provide a play solution.”

He frowns. “You whispered to me, too.”

I give him an innocent look. “Did I?”

“You did.”

“Huh.”

His gaze flares hot. “Are you going to suggest a play solution for me, too?”

Heat swirls low in my belly. “Maybe.”

“I think it’s nap time for Inessa.” His gaze rakes over me. “And for us, too.”

“Okay,” I say, my heart suddenly pounding. “Good. Um, because I wanted to talk to you about something.”

His gaze sharpens—intense, focused entirely on me.

“I love talking to you,” he murmurs. “But we’ve got limited nap time, and I’ve missed you.”

My stomach flips.

“I’ve missed you too,” I admit.

His mouth is on mine before I can say more—soft, addictive. My mind goes hazy and all I can feel is?—

“Emmy!”

Alexei drops me like a hot potato.

Cheeks on fire, I scoop Inessa up from where she’s tugging at my pants. “How about some lunch real quick?”

She rubs her eyes as she eats, and it doesn’t take long for me to get her upstairs, her little arms wrapped tight around my neck, her soft breath puffing against my skin.

Alexei meets me at the top of the stairs and takes her from me.

“There’s a present for you on my bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll put her down and then come find you.”

I see it as soon as I step into his room. The retro jersey he wore a few games ago. Not one of the clean, crisp replicas. This one is his . Game-worn. Goalie-cut. Enormous.

I pick it up, soft and heavy in my hands. It’s been washed, but the battle of the game is obvious. There’s a significant tear at the neck, and there’s still a puck mark in the middle of the chest, just above the stylized boar logo.

It wasn’t that long ago that I longed to fire shots in that exact same spot. To make him take all of my frustration, all of my longing, to absorb it because I didn’t think there was any point of talking about what had happened between us.

Water under the bridge.

All in the past.

A mistake we once made together.

In such a short period of time, all of that has faded away. It’s so bittersweet to realize just how much he means to me now, when I’m the one who is faced with the decision to walk out a door at the wrong moment, for a good reason.

“Put it on,” he says from the doorway, voice low.

I glance back.

He’s gripping the doorframe, his gaze hot and focused. “Inessa went straight to sleep. I’m all yours.”

And the way he says it…he means it on more than one level. I know that in my soul.

So I give him a show.

I set the jersey down and unbutton my jeans. Slowly unzip the fly and slide them down my legs.

I turn around, giving him my back before I peel off my shirt. Then I reach behind me, unclasp my bra, and hold it out to the side until I hear his groan.

Slowly, the bra slips off my fingertips and tumbles to the floor.

Before I take off my underwear, I tug the jersey over my head. The fabric rubs against my hard nipples and makes me shiver.

Alexei doesn’t miss that I’m still wearing something other than his jersey, and that won’t do. “Your panties belong on my floor, too.”

I glance over my shoulder and hold his eye contact, my breath shallow in my chest as I shimmy them down slowly.

Flick , they go flying off my toe.

Then I crawl onto his bed and kneel for him—bare except for his number.

He makes the most satisfying growl low in his throat.

“See something you like?” I ask, a little breathless.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him, cocooning us in his bedroom.

“You look good enough to eat,” he says. He wipes his mouth, his fingers pulling at his lower lip as he prowls closer. Then, softer, “Can you be a quiet girl for me?”

I bite my lip and nod as he closes the gap between us, tumbling me onto my back, climbing over me fully clothed while I burn beneath him.

“I found your birth control pills earlier,” he murmurs. “Do we need anything else? I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

A tremor of desire flutters inside me, low and deep and absolutely certain. We have to close the loop we started two years ago.

It matters.

I shake my head. “We don’t need anything else.”

He kisses me then, long and slow, and his hands roam over my body—first over the jersey, then beneath it. Insistent, but never rushed. He cups and squeezes, gropes and caresses. Exploring for his own hungry reasons and stoking my need at the same time.

“I would have waited forever for you,” he says, reverent.

My throat tightens.

And in that moment, I know there was never going to be anybody else.

“Me too,” I whisper. “I want you inside me, Alexei.”