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“I’m sorry,moy malen'kiy olen',” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I tried to get there as quick as I could.”
“I know.” Holding him as tight as I can, I admit, “I was so scared I’d die, and I wouldn’t get to see you again. They were recording the torture, and I’m sure it was to make you watch how they killed me. I hated it.”
Misha takes a couple of deep breaths, then orders, “Look at me.”
I tilt my head back and meet his eyes. There’s so much love in his light blue irises it helps to soothe some of the trauma I’ve been subjected to.
For a moment, he just stares at me, then he says, “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”
I shake my head, the turbulent emotions caused by the events bubbling in my chest.
“Most people would be hysterical, but not you. You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
Misha’s words build me up after the knock I’ve taken.
That’s what I love most about him. He makes me feel strong. He never breaks me down.
“I’m just glad I get to lie here with you,” I say, my tone soft.
There’s a moment’s silence before I ask, “What do you think will happen now that my father has sworn allegiance to the bratva?”
Misha turns onto his side, so we’re face-to-face. “Now we plan our wedding. We have less than three months.”
Oh, right!
My eyes widen a little. “From facing death to walking down the aisle,” I chuckle.
A worried frown forms on his forehead. “Do you still want to get married?”
Closing the distance between us, I press a kiss to his mouth. “Yes. I would’ve liked more time to make the arrangements.”
And I would have loved a proposal.
“I’ll help you plan everything,” Misha offers.
“You better,” I grumble playfully before yawning.
Laying next to Misha, exhaustion sets into my bones, and with Misha’s hand trailing up and down my back, I drift off.
When I wake up, the room is dark.
At first, I think Misha’s asleep, but when I try to sneak out of his arms, they tighten around me.
“Where are you going?” he grumbles.
“I’m thirsty.”
“Stay in bed,” he orders before he gets up to bring me a bottle of water. He turns on the light, and my eyes instantly lock on his hard cock, tenting his sweatpants.
I take the bottle from him and tease him. “If you get any harder, you’re going to tear through the fabric.”
He drops down on the bed again, and lying on his back, he glances at his erection. “Your ass was grinding against my dick,” he complains. “You can be glad I didn’t fuck you while you were sleeping.”
Chuckling, I take a sip of water, then set the bottle down on the bedside table. “I won’t mind waking up like that.”
Misha’s eyes snap to mine. “Really?”
I nod as I turn onto my side, snuggling the pillow that smells like my man. “But be warned, I sleep like the dead.”
