So I’d only held her to make her pause, but the hitch in her breath changes all of that. It twists my mind and my plans as I tug the robe back down her arms and yank the belt from the loops.
“Till death.” Pulling her wrists to the middle of her back, I bind them with the cheap material. “Till our bones turn to dust,” I growl, drawing her body against me.
“The boys,” she whispers, then twists her head to the side, gifting me with a glimpse of her profile. Her fair lashes flutter, her cheeks flushed pink.
“They’re already at school.”
“How?”
“They were awake at six.” Her body jerks as I grip the binding, testing it. “Hugh said he had football practice, and Archie wanted to see his friends.”
“But breakfast…” My free hand coasts over her soft stomach, then higher, her nipple stiff against my palm.
“You really don’t think much of me.”
“No, I just—”
“Confused me with someone else?”
“No.” She tries to turn, not that I’ll let her. I don’t like this house. I don’t like his lingering presence. I don’t like that he snatched her from under my nose fifteen years ago when I had fucking plans. “I know you’re not…”
“Not what, milaya?”
“You’re not him,” she whispers.
“That’s right, Isla. I wouldn’t leave you living in a house with more flaws than charm and a car that’s a hazard to you and your sons.” Need thrums in my veins—a need to make her understand.
“The heating works. It just needs—”
“Fuck the heating,” I growl into the soft skin of her neck. “And fuck you dressing for bed like you’re setting out on an arctic expedition. Go ahead, wear a dozen layers if you like because the only thing you’ll wake wearing is my scent.”
“Yes.” Her soft answer causes me to still, snapshots of a million images flashing through my head. Isla laughing in the sunshine. Crying out under me. Smiling. Kissing. Loving. Being mine. Loving me. “Niko,” she whispers, her denim eyes pleading.
“I’m burning this fucking monstrosity,” I rasp, tugging on the binding again.
Her laughter is as soft as spring sunshine. “But it’s just—”
“Ugly.” I slide her hair from her neck, her knees giving a little as I press my teeth there. “You deserve better, so much better, and it’s my job to give it to you.”
“And you’re going to give it to me?” she purrs, her voice full of suggestion as she pushes her backside against me.
“Oh, so now you want to tease?”
“You know you love—” Her voice halts, the air around us suddenly shimmering with awkwardness.
“Yes, that’s right, my darling. I love your pleading eyes and how your pussy owns me.” Nudging her to the bed, I use the binding to press her gently to the mattress. “I love when you get on your knees for me.”
The bed dips as I settle myself behind her, sliding my hand over the elegant slope of her shoulder. Her skin is golden in the light, the white marks of that fucking bikini haunting me as I squeeze and knead the flesh of her ass. She whimpers, so open and vulnerable stretched out beneath me that the sight short-circuits my wiring. Words rise from my heart and spill from my mouth.
“Rakastan sua.” She shivers as I press the rolling sounds of the words against her neck. “Above all else, I love you.”
“Niko.” My name on her lips sounds pained.
“I know you love me.” My belt buckle chinks, and her breathing speeds up at the soft susurrus of my zipper. “You want me. You love me. I feel it in your touch. I see it in the way you watch me.” Pressing my crown to her entrance, I circle and tease, the head of my cock glistening with her wetness. My heart thunders in my chest as I try to shut off a wash of feelings and this urge to own her. This desperation to make her feel the strength of my love.
She is so fucking perfect as she stretches like a cat, her hips tilting in invitation. So fucking stubborn as she turns her face to the mattress.
“I have always loved you,” I rasp, sliding my hand to cradle her throat. I press forward, her body yielding to mine, her heart opening as she cries out.
“Oh God, Niko!” Her body trembles around my cock, and she swallows back a sob. “I didn’t want to love you.” My jaw clenches as I slide forward, covering her body like a cloak. “I almost broke last time.”
“Never again,” I whisper fervently, brushing the hair from her face. I mutter a string of unintelligible promises to her—to God—pressing my lips to her hairline, her lips, her cheeks. “I will guard your heart.” My heart feels like a thing with fucking wings.
“I don’t speak Russian. Or Finnish,” she whispers wetly.
“Ya tyebya abazhAyu,” I whisper. “I adore you.” I switch from Russian to Finnish. “Rakastan sinua aina. I’ve loved you always.” I begin to move inside her, slow and deep, my heart thundering against her as it threatens to break free from my ribs. “Love me, darling. Trust me with your heart.”