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Holy. Shit.

That was by far the best sex I’ve ever had. Alexei may have ruined me for anyone else. And I’m not even mad.

Chapter Twelve

Ryleigh

Alexei’s still at practice. I’ve showered, straightened the apartment, and am now sitting on the floor playing with Ella. On one of his last shopping trips, Alexei picked up a couple of stuffed animals and a baby rattle, and I’m having a blast making this little baby smile, and getting such a kick out of the cute noises she makes as she plays.

Ella gets a grip on the pig, brings it to her face, and gnaws on its ear with a level of commitment I genuinely admire.

“That’s aggressive,” I tell her. “I respect it.”

She makes a sound that’s somewhere between a squeal and a growl, and I laugh—this real, full laugh that surprises me, because eight days ago I didn’t know how to hold her without panicking.

I’m getting better at this. I can make a bottle one-handed. I know her cries now—the hungry one, the tired one, the one that just means she dropped her pacifier and wants someone to know about it. I can get her changed and dressed in under three minutes, which feels like an Olympic achievement.

And I know, deep down, that the reason I feel steadier is Alexei. His confidence with her rubbed off on me—the easy way he handles her, the calm in his voice when she’s screaming, the way he just figured things out and made me believe I could too.

Ella releases the pig and it tumbles to the floor again. She stares at her empty hands, confused, like the pig betrayed her.

“Gravity, babe. It’s a whole thing. You’ll get used to it.”

I hand it back and she immediately starts gnawing again, and I lean back on my palms and let my mind wander.

Last night. Dinner. The chicken and the classical music and the wine, and then the part where he told me what his teammates said.

I’ve been turning it over all morning, that conversation. His teammates doubts about me. The underlying worry. I keep poking at it, testing for a bruise, and finding one every time.

But the fact that Alexei told me about it, that he didn’t hide it or smooth it over or pretend everything was fine, matters more than the words themselves. He was honest. He let me see the doubt instead of performing certainty, and I don’t know what to do with a man who does that.

The men in my life—the few who’ve been there—were either liars or leavers. Sometimes both. Alexei is neither of those things, and that should make me feel safe, except safety is the thing that scares me most, because I’ve never had it long enough to trust it.

I shake my head and refocus on Ella, who’s now trying to fit her entire fist in her mouth alongside the pig’s ear.

“One or the other, baby girl. You gotta pick.”

My phone chirps on the coffee table and I reach for it.

Alexei.

This morning was fun.

I chuckle, my whole mood lifting with five words. He’s right—this morning was fun. He woke me up with his mouth on my shoulder and his hand on my hip, and what followed was unhurried and warm and a little bit lazy, and I didn’t feel self-conscious for a single second. He has this way of making everything feel easy, like we’ve been doing this for months instead of days.

I don’t know . . .

I type, biting my lip as I think about what to write next.

Your technique could use a little work.

I sit back on my heels and tickle Ella’s belly with the rattle, satisfied with my delivery.

His reply comes fast.

Little—there’s a word I’ve never heard before.

I snort. The man is . . . not small. In any capacity. And he knows it. My cheeks go warm thinking about this morning, about last night, about the way he held my gaze and asked you sure? And meant it.