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His body was no longer a pillar of strength and perfection.
He was bloody. Bruised. Scarred.
All of it evidence that Vadim had broken him.
It felt like a dirty secret, one he was desperate to hide, from Kira most of all.
“So you don’t find me… unappealing like this?” she asked.
He wanted to weep for the insecurity in her voice. Kira Baranov had been an untouchable ice queen for as long as he could remember. A woman who could have any man she desired.
Now she felt unattractive because of his own baggage. She didn’t deserve that.
“I’ve never wanted you more.” He meant every word. “Let me show you.”
He reached into the mass of curls at the top of her head and removed the pins holding it in place. It fell in silken strands a little at a time, brushing against his hands before spilling onto her shoulders.
When he was sure he had gotten all the pins, he slid his hands into her hair and cradled her head, looking down at her with adoration. She’d always been beautiful, but he wasn’t exaggerating in saying that she was more beautiful now than ever.
He lowered his mouth to hers and captured her lips in a searing kiss.
She opened to him with a soft moan, meeting his tongue as he swept her mouth, her hands working the buttons on his shirt.
She pushed it off his shoulders and ran her fingers gently over the cuts Sergei had made across his chest. Her fingertips were light as a whisper against his broken skin.
It was his imperfection that hurt.
He angled his head to take the kiss deeper, the swell of her stomach erotic against his engorged cock. Her mouth was a refuge from the memory of everything that had happened to him, and he pressed her more tightly against him, eager to leave it all behind in the glory of her body.
She broke their kiss and touched her lips to his neck, then continued to his chest where she left soft kisses on his wounds.
“I will kill them,” she said with each kiss. “I will kill them all.”
Her words stoked the fire already burning at his center. Here was a woman who didn’t apologize for his pain, but one who, if given the chance, would avenge it.
She reached for the button on his trousers and worked the zipper, then slid her hand inside.
He groaned as her warm palm closed around his shaft. He fisted his hand in her hair, then remembered the baby and loosened his grip.
Her head snapped up, her eyes like emerald fire. “Don’t you dare, Lyonya Antonov.” He must have looked as shocked as he felt, because she continued. “Don’t you dare treat me like a piece of glass just because I’m pregnant. I’ve been waiting for you to come home for all kinds of reasons, but one of them is because I’m dying for you to fuck me.”
He tightened his hand in her hair again, forcing her head back. Her bare throat was exposed, pale and creamy in the dark room, her chest rising and falling.
For a long moment, there was no sound in the room except for her rapid breathing.
He released his hold on her hair. When he spoke, his voice sounded guttural to his own ears. “Then turn around, wife.”
She obeyed, turning to face the bed.
“Hands on the mattress,malen'kiy sokol.”
He’d meant the name to be flattering when he’d given it to her — falcons observed their prey from the sky before going in for the kill — but he was beginning to think she deserved an even more powerful nickname.
She’d become a lion in her own right.
A queen.
He let his gaze travel the length of her elegant spine, over the swell of her hips, now fuller and rounder. He ran a hand down her back, his cock throbbing with desire when it bumped up against her velvety skin.
