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I walk into our—our!—bedroom to find Dmitri already awake and on his phone. “There you are,” he murmurs, tucking away the phone. “I was wondering where you’d run off to.”
Smiling, I set the tray down on his lap. “Surprise! I thought you could enjoy breakfast in bed for a change.”
He examines the tray with interest that’s a little too transparent to be real. “Looks good.”
“Don’t patronize me. It’s granola, not gourmet.”
Chuckling, he spoons some granola into his mouth and pulls an exaggerated, quasi-orgasmic face, all slack jaw and soft groans and eyes rolling back in his head. “A feast for the senses, truly.”
“You realize that came from a box, right?”
“And yet it tastes sweeter than it has any right to. They do say love is the secret ingredient.”
“Yeah, yeah, enough with the flattery, wiseass,” I grumble, though I’m smiling as I crawl back in bed and curl up next to him.
Dmitri tilts his head to look down at me. His eyes sparkle the way they do when dirty things are about to follow.
“Fair enough. In terms of things I’d rather be eating, I’d say ‘you’ are at the top of the list.” Right on cue, the silverware clacks on the tray as his morning wood joins the party, tenting up beneath the blankets.
Coffee sloshes over the rim of the mug. Big dick problems.
I scoot just out of reach. “There’s time for that later.”
“Why wait for later when you could be dripping all over my face right now?”
My cheeks flame with color. He has a habit of getting colorfully graphic when he’s seducing me. Probably because it works. Every time.
Except today, I’m determined not to let him get me off-track with his hypnotic sex appeal. If I’m gonna stand my own in this relationship, I’ll have to pretend for at least a few consecutive seconds like he’s not the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Because I’m trying to have a conversation with you. That’s why.”
He growls impatiently and sets the tray on his bedside table. “We can talk and fuck, moya devushka. I’m a great multitasker.”
I snort. “Men rarely are.”
“My performance last night would beg to differ.”
“When were you multi-tasking?”
“When I was stirring the pasta on the stove and fucking you up against the kitchen counter.”
I didn’t know my face could burn this bright. “That was irresponsible on both our parts. We could have been scalded in scandalous places by burning hot pasta.”
He reaches out to snag my foot and drag it into his lap. “Do you really think I would have let anything happen to you?”
“Well—”
“Nothing will hurt you as long as I’m around, Wren.”
Be still, my beating heart. Gritting my teeth, I try to remember what I wanted to talk to him about in the first place. He’s distracting you again.
“I know,” I whisper softly.
“You better. But I’m happy to repeat myself as many times as it takes.” He clears his throat and his smile fades into something more serious. “I want you to be happy.”
I swear, I never tire of hearing him say that. “What about you? You should be happy, too.”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
