There goes that plan.
He turns to me with a slight smile, which immediately crumbles. “I was joking, Hailey.”
“You don’t make jokes, Rafe.” I stare at the guns, then at him.
“You do not know me well enough to understand my sense of humor.”
“Last I checked, you didn’t have one.” I’m still talking and breathing too fast. I feel light-headed.
He moves between me and the table, blocking my view. “Those are just in case my enemies find out where we are hiding. To keep you safe.”
I suck in a harsh breath.
“Hailey. Breathe,” he orders.
I shake my head. I can’t. This isn’t reality. I’m caught in a nightmare and I can’t wake up. There’s a knot of tension crushing the air out of my lungs. He takes my shoulders and gives me a little shake. I stare blankly at the hollow of his throat. I used to think that part of him was so sexy, when I was young and foolish. Used to dream about running my fingertips along that curve, dipping my tongue into the center. That was before I saw the rest of him. Now, there’s too much of him.
He was overwhelming when I was sixteen. He is even more so now.
“I am not going to hurt you,printsesa.” Rafail’s arms slip around me. I find my face pressed into his shoulder, with far too much skin contact. My cheek against his bare chest, inches from that enticing, sharp dip I’ve thought about so often. I relax against him with a sigh.
“Quit calling me that,” I complain petulantly. “I’m not your princess. I’m not your anything. You walked out on us after your father was arrested, and left us to deal with the lawyers. With the Feds. We lost everything. You don’t get to pretend you’re some kind of knight in shining armor who protected me.”
He stills, except for his thumb tracing circles between my shoulder blades, right above my bra.
“I had to leave and take over aspakhan. Boss,” he explains. “I had to clean up my father’s mess. I left to protect you.”
“Some protection, slipping me a passkey without telling me.” Despite my grousing, I tip my head up, almost as if I’m nuzzling him, which I’m not. I’m glaring at the man despite clinging to him like a baby monkey.
“I knew I could trust you to keep it safe.” He strokes my hair down my back, and I have to fight the strangest urge to purr. “Now, sit while I make you breakfast.”
Rafail busses a kiss to the top of my head like I’m a child who needed soothing after a nightmare. I straighten my spine. That is not remotely the impression I wanted to convey, even if it did feel nice to be held by him.
Now the shape of his body is imprinted on mine. When he turns to clear away the handguns, I subtly pull the collar of my shirt up and breathe him in. Conflicted. I definitely want to sleep with him. I’m afraid that if I do, I won’t be able to give him up. If the sex is good enough, I might inadvertently lock myself into this life that I don’t want.
Rafail doesn’t bother with an apron. Shirtless, he drips batter into a pan and fills small, thin pancakes with fruit, cheese, ormeat, until there is such a pile of each kind that the two of us couldn’t possibly eat them all.
The whole experience feels strangely domestic.
“You were never like this back when I knew you before.” He sets a plate of blini before me, along with a fork and knife.
“Like what?”
“Domesticated.”
He scoffs. “You hardly knew me.”
True enough. I take a bite. A moan escapes me. “Holy fuck, these are delicious, Rafe. Where did you learn to make them?”
“My mother. Rest her soul.” He makes the sign of a cross. Never figured him a religious sort. “When you have finished,printsesa?—”
“Enough with the princess shit.” I hold my plate out. “Feed me.”
He chuckles and feeds me. Actually, I could get used to this princess thing, now that I think about it. As long as he keeps the guns out of sight.
Rafail takes the seat across from me. Mid-blini, he slides a small velvet box across the marble top and says, “A ring. To make things official.”
I stare at it like I’m Cleopatra and he’s presented me with an asp.
