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A peculiar stillness steals over him. “The two of us?”
“Or you can do it yourself if you’d rather.” I’m beginning to feel foolish. It’s highly likely I’ve misread the whole thing, ascribing thoughts and emotions to Nikolai that reflect my own wishful thinking. Just because I’ve secretly dreamed of meeting my father and growing close to him doesn’t mean every parent-child relationship needs to adhere to a specific dynamic or—
“I’ll join you.” Nikolai pushes away from the doorframe and approaches the bed with those long, graceful strides that remind me of a jungle cat.
I scramble back as he sits down on the mattress next to me, but with Slava stretched out between me and the wall, I can’t go far. Nikolai is so close to me we’re almost touching, and my breath catches in my throat as his sensual cedar-and-bergamot scent envelops me, reminding me of last night. Vivid sexual images invade my mind, and more heat surges through me, dampening my underwear and sending my heart into overdrive. Uncomfortably aware of Slava’s wide-eyed gaze on us, I try to tamp down on my arousal, but the heat doesn’t dissipate, my pulse refusing to settle into a steadier rhythm.
This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. I should be keeping my distance from my employer, not issuing what amounts to an invitation to cuddle on a twin-sized bed. There’s barely enough room for me and Slava. The only way for us all to fit is if—
“Lie down, zaychik,” Nikolai says softly, a wicked half-smile curving his lips as he reaches around me to pick up the book. “So I can properly join you.”
The blood flowing to my face feels like lava as I reluctantly obey, turning to lie on my stomach next to Slava—who seems fascinated by what’s happening. Nikolai stretches out next to me, his big, hard body flush against mine, and it belatedly occurs to me that Slava should be in the middle, serving as a buffer. Before I can suggest it, Nikolai drapes a heavy arm over my shoulders, pinning me in place, and places the book in front of me.
“Go ahead,” he murmurs in my ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps down my arm. “Let’s see you work your teaching magic.”
Magic? The only magic around here is that I’m somehow intact and not a puddle of goo on the sheets—which is what my body feels like as I lie in what amounts to his embrace. My pulse is pounding in my temples, my breath sawing through my lips as my underwear grows even slicker, and only the presence of the child next to us keeps me from repeating last night’s mistake by giving in to the dangerous, hypnotic pull Nikolai exerts on me.
Instead, I attempt to concentrate on the task at hand. Clearing my throat, I read, “T is for train: choo-choo. Also for truck.” My voice is a shade too husky, but I’m just glad my brain is functioning enough to make out the words on the page. Luckily, Slava doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss as I continue, pointing at the picture of the truck with a slightly unsteady finger.
Casting curious looks at his father, he repeats the words after me, his voice quiet and subdued at first, then increasingly livelier, and by the time we get to Z, he’s laughing at the stripes on the zebra and purposefully mispronouncing the word, having forgotten all about the large man in bed with us.
After his third incorrect attempt, I tsk-tsk with mock disappointment and glance at Nikolai. “Why don’t you try saying it?” I suggest, ignoring the way my pulse spikes as I meet his gaze. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
Nikolai’s expression doesn’t change, but the arm draped over my shoulders stiffens slightly. “All right,” he says in a measured tone, and looking down at the book, he says in a thick, exaggerated Russian accent, “Zye-bruh.”
Slava’s eyes round. He clearly wasn’t expecting his father to have trouble with the English word. I tsk-tsk again, shaking my head as if disappointed by Nikolai’s attempt, and after a brief, tension-filled moment, Slava bursts out laughing.
“Zebra,” he corrects through the giggles, his pronunciation as perfect as mine. “Zebra, zebra.”
“Oh, I see.” Nikolai glances at me, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “So… zee-bro?”
Slava is all but dying from laughter now, and I can’t help grinning as well. This is a side of my employer I’ve never seen before, and judging by Slava’s reaction, neither has he. Giggling, he corrects his father’s pronunciation, and Nikolai bungles it again, sending the boy into fresh peals of laughter. Finally, Slava succeeds in “teaching” Nikolai how it’s done, and we triumphantly close the book, having covered the entire alphabet.
Immediately, the tension between me and Nikolai returns, the air crackling with a sexual charge. I’ve been doing my best to ignore the feel of him pressed against my side, but without the distraction of the book, it’s impossible. His big body is warm and hard next to me, his arm heavy over my shoulder blades, and though we’re both fully clothed, the intimacy of lying together like this is undeniable.
