“You’re still nervous.” He doesn’t ask.
“A little,” I admit breathlessly.
“That’s fine.” His eyes go dark. “I don’t mind earning my praise.”
“Cocky,” I snort before I can stop myself.
“Confident,” he corrects. He mouths at the curve of my jaw, making heat spark low in my belly. “And soon to be very, very busy.”
My laugh turns into a gasp as he starts kissing down my neck. I can feel the scrape of his stubble on every inch of skin he kisses. Rough, delicious. My hands grip his shoulders, desperately looking for an anchor. His body is such a warm, solid thing against mine.
He peels my top off slowly, deliberately, like he wants me to feel every second of it. And I do. God, I do.
Then he pulls back for a moment, looking at me with burning eyes. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
I flush, scoffing out of habit. “Flatterer.”
“I don’t do flattery.” He reaches for my waistband. “So take the compliment,lisichka,and everything else I give you.”
Before I can stutter an embarrassed reply to that, he kisses me again. This time, there’s no hesitation in me as I kiss back. Only raw need and the slow, steady rhythm of Petyr pulling me under.
I go willingly.
Petyr doesn’t waste time. He peels away the rest of my clothes like he’s unwrapping a gift. Slow where it makes me shiver, fast where it makes me gasp.
Since I don’t like to be outperformed, I start pawing at his clothes, too.
When I finally see him naked, I forget how to breathe.
My eyes trail over him: broad chest, sculpted stomach, a V-cut that looks carved by the gods. I swallow around a dry mouth, trying to wrap my mind around the fact my baby daddy apparently looks like a Greek statue.
And then there’s the obvious, not-so-tiny detail under the waist.
“Holy Sister Margaret,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
But he’s caught my stare now. And that small, half-smirk that blooms at the corner of his mouth makes me want to blurt something stupid and patently false.
“It’s not that big.”
“I was expecting more.”
“I could fit two of those.”
Bitch, you can’t even fit one.My rational mind slaps me awake. Right—that’s got to fit. If we want a baby, that has to go, like,inme. All the way.
Oh, God.
I should be scared, right?
I totally shouldn’t want it more than I want to breathe, right?
…
Shit. He’s going to ruin me for anyone else, isn’t he?
