I leaned against the front edge of the desk. My hand slid behind me and found the gap between two files. I slipped the paper into it without looking. Dmitri was still watching me. After hiding the paper, I moved my hand to my back instead, scratching between my shoulder blades.
“Do you ever get that itch on your back, on a spot you just can’t quite reach?” I asked, tilting slightly as if I was trying to find what wasn’t there. “It’s been bothering me for the last ten minutes.”
Dmitri moved in. I saw the look on his face and whatever sarcastic act I had slipped into. It was that expression he never hid, as if I were something worth studying and he had all the time in the world to do it. Those eyes. He knew exactly what they did when he used them like that.
“What?” I leaned back against the desk as he came closer. He placed both hands on either side of me and lowered his face until we were level. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s the first time,” he said.
I blinked. “First time, what? Seeing me? I’m beautiful. I know that.”
“Call me that again.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, studying him. “Call you what, exactly?”
“Say it.” He moved his face closer.
I let my thoughts run back through what I had called him. He was right. It was the first time I called himmy husband. I had said it earlier as sarcasm, but now, standing in front of him, I turned it over in my mind. Dmitri has been calling me his wife since before we even knew each other well enough to have opinions about each other. He said it as if I had always belonged to him.
He was my man now. He proposed, and I agreed. So I couldcall him whatever I wanted.
“My husband,” I murmured. My hands found his shoulders and slid up to his neck. “That?”
“Again.” His eyes dropped to my lips and then returned to mine.
“My husband.” I pecked his lips. “My man.”
“Yeah?” He cut off the rest of my words with a slow, deep kiss. “Say it again.”
I giggled as he lifted me off the floor and sat me on the table. “My lovely husband.”
He took my lips again and kissed me as if the words had broken something loose in him. His tongue met mine, and I moaned against his mouth. He bit my lower lip, tugged it gently, then sucked it as if he were testing how much I would let him take.
“You brought me here just to kiss me?” I managed between breaths. He kissed me again before pulling back and just looking at me.
“We can forget about the date,” he said, his hands sliding to my thighs. He spread them and stepped between them.
“Wait.” I straightened. “A date?” His hands moved along my fishnet stockings, sliding under the hem of my minidress. I caught his wrist and pushed him back just enough to stop him. “I’m not letting you ruin our first date. Wait, you actually planned a date?”
“Yes.” His arm came around my waist and pulled me closer again. His other hand settled against my back, and he smiled at me, but his eyes shifted past my shoulder. “Hm. Interesting.”
I turned my head and found him holding a piece of paper. It took me a second to understand what it was.
My list.
“Hey!” I reached for it. Dmitri lifted it above my head with no effort, his arm extended as if I wasn’t even trying. “Dmitri, give me that.”
“Skydiving.” He read it aloud while keeping it out of my reach. “You should forget about getting drunk, darling. That would never happen, and you know—” he stopped, his smile flattening. “Start therapy?”
I dropped my hands and leaned back, giving up for the moment. “Some things are private. You should know that.”
“A therapist?” He lowered the paper. “Am I stressing you out?”
I scoffed. “We don’t only see therapists when we’re stressed.”
“Then why else would someone want to see one?” He set the paper on the table and looked at me more closely with concern. “Is it something I did?”
“Seriously?” I looked at him for a moment and exhaled. He was serious. “If you must know, I want to see if I can work through the fear I have.”
