Beautiful Beast - Page 106

“We’ll come back later,” Mom whispers with a slightly comical, irritated look and slams the door shut in their wake.

I look at Rafael.

He has a very smug grin on his face. “Well . . . I don’t think we’ll be heading out fishing together anytime soon.”

I laugh and kiss him.

Epilogue

One month later

The two-story modern white house looms before us, bathed in the soft glow of the sunset. My father-in-law’s home. I park the car in the empty spot next to the flower bed and turn off the engine.

“Remember what we agreed on,” Vasilisa says as she checks her makeup in the sun visor mirror. “You will not rile my dad up. He’s still mad at you for ‘stealing’ my wedding day. This will be our first . . . um, normal gathering with my family, so let’s keep it civil.”

“Sure.” I take the mascara tube from her hand and throw it onto the seat behind me.

“Hey! What—”

“I’ll behave. But I think I need some incentive.” I push my seat back, then wrap my hands around her tiny waist and lift her over the console and onto my lap.

“Rafael, we’re not having sex in my father’s driveway.”

“No?” I unfasten the first button of her silky blouse. “In case you forgot, my doctor said I’m still recovering. No stressful situations whatsoever are allowed. And one part of my anatomy feels rather stressed at the moment.” I push the sides of her blouse apart and nip her breast.

“We can work on calming your cock after dinner,” Vasilisa murmurs.

My hand trails down her ribcage, then lower, to cup her exposed pussy. Her satin panties were left discarded somewhere on my plane. Guiding my thumb between her slick folds, I find her sweet bud and start circling. A couple of light strokes at first, then I apply slightly more pressure before sliding my finger inside her heat.

“Changed your mind?” I keep teasing her clit with my thumb while listening to her soft little moans of pleasure.

“Yup,” Vasilisa chokes out, riding my finger and unzipping my pants.

I’m hard as a fucking rock, to the point of pain. I almost come when she wraps her hand around my cock to pull it out. The degree to which I’m obsessed with my wife is unparalleled. She only needs to touch me—or simply threaten to slice my throat—and I’m a goner.

Slipping my hands under her ass, I position her above my dick and start slowly lowering this incredible woman in my arms. My brain is fried before I’m even halfway inside her.

Two dark eyes bore into mine from between the long black strands covering her face. Piercing. A little feral. Mine.

It’s still somewhat unreal that I get to have her as my own.

“I’m not sure I can ever show you how much I love you, Vasilisa.”

“You already have, you lunatic,” she whispers, taking more of me inside. “Try pulling another stunt like that, and I swear I’ll strangle you to death.”

My cock twitches violently inside her pussy, and I barely contain my imminent orgasm. I thrust into her from below, filling her completely, and capture her lips with mine at the same time.

“I love you,” her lips say into mine. “So, so much.”

My heart swells and expands, feeling as if it’s suddenly too large for my chest. I cup Vasilisa’s face with my palm, soaking in the view of her, flushed and panting, as she rides me, chasing her pleasure with wild abandon.

This ecstasy is all I need to know the old shadows are gone. Those dark thoughts that used to plague me when I was a much younger man. There were dark moments through the years when I reflected on that moment at the mall. That minute just before the explosion.

I’m ashamed to admit it, even to myself, but more than once I’ve wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t been there. How would my life have turned out? What if I’d left before I saw the girl merrily running down that hall? Or if I did, but chose to remain in that stairwell. Those thoughts made me feel sick to my stomach, disgusted with myself. And still, they would surface on occasion. In moments of weakness. In moments of pain.

Now? Now I’m beating myself up over that scar on Vasilisa’s back. One damn shard that managed to get past me. That hurt her. That left a permanent mark. I should have shielded her better. That cut should have ended up on me, as well. Never her.

I’ve always hated my reflection in the mirror. That is until I realized the girl I saved was Vasilisa. Now, seeing myself, the only feeling I have is of relief. Because it was me who was injured, not her.