Page 52 of Claimed By my Ex’s Uncle

He falls silent for a long moment, and I can see the strain in his eyes as he gazes back at me, trying to figure out what it could mean for him to say yes. I don’t push him, don’t pressure him towards any particular response. It seems a miracle that I’ve managed to get this far with him, and I don’t want to spook him by nudging him too much.

"I’m not good at that."

It’s the first time I have heard him admit to any kind of weakness, though I doubt that he would consider this a weakness. No, to him, self-control is strength, even when it’s more than he can take.

I shake my head, cupping his face in my hands like he did to me back in the car. "Well, maybe you can indulge me," I murmur. "Given how much you’ve done to help me, I mean. Seems like the least you could do, right?"

After putting it like that, I can see that I’m starting to get through to him, as hard as it is for him to admit it. Now that he’s chosen me over his longtime second-in-command, I am certain that he sees me in a different light. Maybe as more of an equal now.

"Come on," I tell him as I tug him towards the door. "Let’s get you cleaned up."

Chapter 28

Rose

Ilya does not protest as I guide him back towards my room, the warmth of his skin against mine all I need to convince me that he’s going to listen to what I said. He might be able to handle the big stuff, the scary stuff, the stuff, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not capable of doing my part, too.

We reach the bathroom, and I push open the door, guiding him to the edge of the tub. He sits down and places his hands in his lap while I fuss with soap and a cloth to get him cleaned up. Kneeling before him, I gently lift his hands into mine, examining the way they’re stained with everything he’s done to protect me and our child. I wet the cloth with water and work some soap into his skin, slowly cleaning each finger off with meticulous care.

Ilya doesn’t pull back, doesn’t resist. For so long, he was stoic to the point of being unreadable to me. But now, as I carefully lather up the soap around his hands, wiping away the dried blood with each movement, slowly removing the symbols of his brutality from his skin, it feels like something has shifted between us. As though finally, he can see me for what I am: an equal, a partner in his world, instead of a problem he has to handle.

He watches me as I work but does not say a word, and I’m pretty sure I can tell what’s going through his mind right now. Sometimes, it doesn’t need to be spoken out loud, not when it’s so clear that this goes deeper than just a simple cleaning of hands. It feels reverent, like a statement neither of us can ignore.

As soon as I am done, he leans down to kiss me, catching my face in his hands and pulling me up to meet him. The passion in his touch, the feel of it against my skin, the warmth of his mouth as he claims me, it takes me back to the day he fucked me on that table—when he made sure his men knew I belonged to him. I almost think that’s what triggered Sergei to threaten me, but I wouldn’t go back and change it—not now, not ever. Because it was on that day that I knew Ilya wanted me, that I knew he would go to any lengths to prove that, and I wouldn’t walk that back, not if it meant sacrificing where we are now.

"I’m not finished cleaning you up, you know," I murmur against his mouth.

He locks his arms around me, drawing me into him like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

"I can think of better ways to spend our time," he replies as he draws me to my feet, reaching into the shower cubicle to turn on the water. I hear the spray hit the ceramic tile below, and I grin as he pulls me in even closer, seemingly reluctant to give me a moment of space, as though he can hardly believe that I’m still beside him.

And I want to tell him, to remind him in any way I can, that I’m not going anywhere. That I could never dream of it now, after everything we’ve been through.

But I know he’s better off being shown than told, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Chapter 29

Rose

He undresses me slowly, with the same reverence I showed when washing his hands. As he strips me down, it’s like he’s seeing me for the first time, his gaze tracing the shape of me. He looks as if there’s nothing more he wants than to lose himself in me right now.

His hands work their way down my waist, my hips, my thighs. Not with the same insistent, dominant grasp they had before, but something softer. Something more intimate.

Hooking his thumb beneath my panties, he tugs them down, letting them drop to the floor in a heap before he pulls me against him. I can feel how hard he is beneath his pants, and a tingle warms my lower belly as I imagine him inside me, filling me in a single motion, buried up to the hilt.

He makes short work of his own clothes, still spattered with blood here and there—God knows who from. But as he bares himself to me, I find myself staring at only him—not what he’s been through, not what he’s done, but just... him. And it’s the only thing I can think of that matters, the only thing I care about, the only thing I need right now.

And he seems to sense it, guiding me back under the shower spray with a grin on his face. He turns me away from him, drawing my body back against his, one arm around my waist to pin me there so I can feel his erection against my back. He slips a hand up into my hair, making sure it’s thoroughly saturated by the water before reaching back for some shampoo, pouring it out into his hand before he applies it to my scalp.

In slow, soft circles, he begins to massage his fingers into my scalp, taking his sweet time, not hurrying a single moment of this. My eyes drift shut, the sensation fluttering down my spine and covering my body with goosepimples, even beneath the hot water. It feels so damn good to be touched by him like this, to have him take care of me after I took care of him. Even if he was the one betrayed today, I faced something so close to a nightmare I can hardly fathom it, but when he touches me, all of that vanishes into nothingness.

He grips my hair lightly and tugs my head back so that the water runs over my scalp and washes the jasmine-scented suds down both our bodies. I meet his gaze for a moment, and his fingers tighten, clearly enjoying the way I’m looking at him right now.

Once he’s finished washing my hair, he slides his hand to the side of my neck and draws me in for a bruising kiss that nearly knocks the air from my lungs. The water rushes in my ears as his tongue slips deep into my mouth, heart pounding as the pressure begins to rise between my legs. His other hand works its way down my lower belly, cupping my mound, grinding into me lightly without fully touching me. I groan into his mouth, desire throbbing through my system, and I feel his dick twitch against me. I know he wants me just as badly as I want him, and he deepens the kiss, slipping his hand between my legs so that he can tease my clit as he tongues me passionately.

I reach back to hold him against me, my hips rising to meet his fingers as he teases me and coaxes me to the point of no return. As much as he likes showing me off, he likes me best when I am completely given over to him like this, when he has me all to myself. I can’t exactly argue with that. The way it feels to offer myself to him, to know that there is nothing he wouldn’t do to deny me the pleasure I ache… it’s beyond blissful.

He pulls his hand back from me suddenly, turning me to face him and hitching me up against the wall of the shower. I drape my arms around him, and he presses his mouth to mine.