"Together," he growled, slamming into me. "Come with me, Elena. Now."
We shattered simultaneously, his release pouring into me as I convulsed. He stayed buried deep, rolling us so he could wrap me in his arms, still connected.
The afterglow faded slowly, leaving just our ragged breaths in the room.
"I love you," Igor said, holding me close, kissing my sweaty forehead.
"I know," I said, resting against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. "I love you too."
Outside, stars dotted the night sky. I soaked in the peace and happiness of the moment.
Chapter Thirty-One
Igor
Snow fell against the window, just like that Christmas five years ago. But this time everything was different. I stood in the doorway with the last bag of ornaments in my hand, looking at the huge Christmas tree already standing in the living room. Fuck — I never imagined I'd be the man to put up a tree, much less enjoy the hell out of it.
"Dad! You bought so many things!" Stella jumped off the couch, her little face flushed with excitement.
"Of course, my little princess." I set the bag down and scooped her up, lifting her high. "This is our first real family Christmas. It has to be perfect."
"I want to help too!" she wriggled in my arms.
"Okay, you hang these." I handed her a box of colored glass balls. "Be careful. Don't drop them."
Elena came out of the kitchen, flour smudging her apron. She was in a simple sweater and jeans, hair tied back in a ponytail, cheeks pink from the oven. Seeing her made my heart skip.
She looked at the pile of decorations and gave a helpless littlelaugh. "Igor, are you trying to move the whole store into our living room?"
"Pretty much." I kissed her on the forehead. "Smells good. What are you making?"
"Gingerbread." She colored. "Stella said she wanted a gingerbread house."
"Then we'll make the biggest damn gingerbread house there is," I said, dead serious.
She nudged me. "Go help your daughter decorate the tree. Don't mess up my dough."
"When did I ever mess up?" I protested.
"Right now." She stood on tiptoe, pecked my lips quickly, then turned back to the kitchen. "Hands off, Igor Vorontsov. The dough isn't done."
That woman always knew exactly how to make my pulse race.
I watched Stella tiptoe to reach the higher branches. "Hold on, Stella. Let Dad do the high stuff."
For the next two hours, it was just the two of us. I handled the top ornaments; she took the lower branches. After each one, she'd step back, cock her head, then announce, "Perfect," or "Move it a bit to the left."
"Dad, this star goes on the top, right?" She held up a gold star.
"Yeah, baby." I took it. "The star's the most important. It stands for hope and light."
"Like my name?" Her sky-blue eyes flicked to Elena; she looked so much like her mother.
"Just like you." I crouched and looked at her properly. "You're Mom and Dad's star. You light up our lives."
She giggled and dove into my arms. "Dad, you're so cheesy."
"You'll get used to it." I lifted her so she could place the star on the top. "I'll get cheesier."
