He nods. “For everything that you had to go through,” he explains. “I should have been there with you the entire time. I should have given you the life you deserve. You should never have had to take a job that’s beneath you or sleep in a shelter or…”
“I’m the one who chose to leave,” I point out. “I never apologized for that.”
Artem falls silent at that, his expression flickering with conflict, and I realize something.
He’s angry at me for leaving.
I take his hand. He meets my gaze. He knows what I’m thinking. He knows I can see that these months haven’t been easy for him, either.
“You should have said goodbye,” he grits finally. It looks like it hurts him to admit that he was wounded by that.
“If I had, I would never have left.”
“Exactly.”
We look at each other for a long, tense moment. So many unspoken things flying back and forth between us.
Love and hate and hardship and the desperate fire that’s kept us coming back for more and more and more of each other from the start.
It’s overwhelming. I can’t look away but I can’t keep staring into his eyes and feeling like my soul is completely bared.
So I whisper, “Artem…”
He silences me with his lips.
I gasp against his mouth. I feel Phoenix’s little fingers cling to my hair but I let that go as I kiss my husband.
His tongue slides between my lips, hot and insistent. I let him come in. Claim my mouth. Taste me tasting him.
Until I’m forced to break the kiss because of the growing discomfort in my chest. I wince as Phoenix tugs on my hair harder.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “I need to feed him.”
Artem smiles. “Go ahead, kukolka.”
“We still have a lot to talk about,” I remind him.
“I know. But for right now… let’s just be together.”
And really, there’s no way I can resist that.