“It could just be sex fog,” he teased.
She loved making him smile. He seemed relaxed and very happy. “It could be, but if it is, it’s still Andrii fog, because you’re the one providing awesome sex.”
“I suppose that makes sense to you. I think it’s the other way around. You provided for me.” He turned to walk away from her.
Azelie stared at his broad back in a kind of shock. She sat up slowly. She knew he had tattoos. He had them all over his chest and arms, but he usually was dressed, and the other times they’d had sex, she only saw him from the front. He pulled on a shirt after. He woke before her when he slept in her bed. She’d never seen his back tattoos. The main ink on his back was a large piece done predominantly in blacks and grays. The central part of the tattoo was a tree with many branches. Crows sat in the branches or flew above them. Mixed in the roots of the tree were numerous skulls piled high. Some were scattered on the ground near the roots, as if they’d tried to escape. A rocker above the canopy of the tree said “Torpedo Ink.” The one below said “Sea Haven–Caspar.”
“You’re in a motorcycle club.”
He stuck his head around the door frame. “Yeah?” A distinct challenge. His expression had gone hard. “You have a problem with that?”
“Well, yes.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “That means you ride motorcycles. You’re probably really good on a motorcycle. Like an expert rider or something.”
He looked puzzled. “Not following you, babe. You’re going to have to spell out your objection.”
“Sheesh, Andrii. Do I have to spell it out for you? Is there anything you can’t do? Anything you’re not good at? I’m saying you’re most likely a badass on a motorcycle. You are, aren’t you? Just own it. Just admit it.”
She knew she sounded a little hysterical, but every time she thought she might be able to give him something of equal value, bring something to the relationship, she found out more about him. Everything she found out was over the top. He was like a hero in a fantasy book, larger than life and impossible to match.
Andrii studied her face, the harshness in him fading. “Baby, you’re not making any sense. I’ve ridden motorcycles for years. You’ll never have to worry when you’re on the back of my bike. I’ll keep you safe. Are you afraid of motorcycles?”
Naturally, he would think she feared being on a motorcycle.More than likely, prior to thinking she was afraid, he had thought she was upset that he was in a club. He didn’t understand the disparity between them. It would always be there, this huge gap she would never be able to close. She despised that she had no experience, that she’d been a coward and hid from life because of what had happened.
She pressed her hand over the scar closest to her heart. She’d been afraid to take a chance with Maestro, pretending to herself she was afraid of his past, but the truth was she thought she would never be able to keep him. He would realize after a short while that she was no match for him.
Azelie turned away from him. She couldn’t even look at him when he was so ridiculously gorgeous. He didn’t seem to care in the least about his nudity, comfortable in his own skin, where she often wanted to hide. She knew she’d worn baggy clothes from a young age because Quentin had drilled it into her that she wasn’t to show her figure. She wanted to blame her lack of confidence on that but was afraid she simply lacked self-esteem in every department.
She heard Andrii swear under his breath, his voice soft but close, too close. He moved like the air, silent and deadly. He was on her before she could defend herself, catching her up in his arms and cradling her against his chest.
“Baby, you’re crying.” He swung around, stalking back to the bathroom, where the water was running into her small bathtub. “Told you before, don’t want you crying unless you’re in my arms. Cry it out, and then tell me what’s going on so I can fix it.”
She didn’t know what to say or do. How could he fix the wide gap, ever growing, between them? “It’s not like you can suddenly turn into a nerd, Andrii. Or goofy. Or sexless. You’re always going to be you, and I’m always going to be me.” She choked, hiccupped and pressed her wet face against his bare chest. “Even after crazy sex, you smell good. You can’t stop that either.”
“That’s a good thing, Zelie, not a bad thing.” He rested his butt against the sink, holding her close as the water filledthe tub. “I don’t think you’d be attracted to me if I was the smelly type.”
“Don’t get me laughing. I don’t want to laugh. This is so bad between us. There isn’t any way to fix it. There’s just no way.”
He set her feet down in the small bathtub. “There’s always a way to fix something, baby. But if you’re worried about the two of us, we’re solid. We’re always going to be solid, even when we run into little hitches.”
His voice was soft, a brush of velvet over her skin. Worse, there were notes in his tone that had goose bumps erupting everywhere. She wanted to curl up into a little ball and weep forever at her lack of confidence. How could a man like Andrii hold her with such tenderness? So gently. So absolutely certain they would make it.
“You don’t understand,” she blurted. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to understand.”
“Despite being ridiculously arrogant, I am intelligent. I can figure it out. Get all the way into the water, Azelie.”
He stripped the robe off her, and she sank down into the hot water obediently, drawing up her knees and gripping them so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“I really don’t like you being so distressed.”
She laid her head on top of her knees. “It’s just that you’re so extraordinary.” She looked up at him, seeing he was shaking his head. “Don’t dismiss what I’m telling you. You are. You have so much experience in so many areas. Anything you choose to do, you’re not just good, you’re amazing at it.”
Her hair was all over the place and she swept it back, annoyed that she hadn’t put it up. The moment she pulled it back from her face, Andrii took over, bunching her thick hair in one fist and deftly twisting it into one of the many silk scrunchies she had on a mini-tower next to her sink.
“You’re even good at putting my hair up.”
“I’m good at reading your distress level. You needed it out of your way. I was close to your hair ties, so I put it up out of the way.”
She glanced at him again. “You’re good at everything.”
