Riding the unexpected wave of numbness, I boldly open my robe, letting it slide down my arms as I step toward him.
The sooner we get on with it, the sooner this will be over, and I’ve been dreading tonight long enough.
I can’t take it any longer.
“As your wife, I’m yours to do with as you please,” I state, striding toward the bed.
13
MIKO
Anika’s sultry invitation is like a punch to the gut—not so much because of her choice in words but because of the underlying emotion hidden just beneath the surface.
Anika is my wife, and the possessive satisfaction that fills me when she says it is enough to make me rock hard in an instant. I want to do dirty things to this woman.
I want to make her scream my name, to hear her beg me for more.
And as she strides toward me without a stitch of clothing, a sensual sway to her full hips, I could almost let myself believe she wants the same.
But something in her tone gives me pause.
There’s a flatness to it, a detached sense of resignation.
And as much as I want Anika, as desperate as I am to claim her as my own, I don’t want to force myself upon her.
I want our first time together to be enjoyable—for her and me.
And while I’ve been picturing this night since the moment I declared she would be my wife, now I’m not entirely sure how to proceed.
Her eyes never leave mine as she stops near the foot of the bed, her expression turning hesitant. “How do you want me?” she asks, glancing down at the fresh sheets.
The pulse in her neck jumps, and she bites down on her lower lip, showing off the slight gap in her two front teeth that somehow makes her look both adorable and strikingly beautiful at the same time.
I want to bite that lip for her, and as my need to touch her spikes, I rise from the bed without thinking.
Anika tenses, her shoulders lifting as I stalk toward her.
But she doesn’t retreat, and as I round the corner of the bed, her chin lifts with that fiery defiance that drives me wild.
Leaning in, I scoop her into my arms, bridal style, and Anika gasps, the sound sending a jolt of desire straight to my achingly hard cock.
She weighs next to nothing, her skin satin smooth against my chest—like a fragile doll made of silk and porcelain and so breakable, I don’t dare jostle her.
“I want you on your back with your legs spread wide,” I rasp, throbbing with the need to bury my face between her thighs.
I can feel the shudder that ripples through her body as I lay her on the bed, and she obeys, her gaze watchful.
Her muscles are tense, her hands fisting the sheets as if she’s bracing against my touch.
I can imagine that’s because she’s only ever been with Pyotr before, and I’m still a stranger to her.
Not just that, but I’m the one who made her a widow.
But I want to show her I’m not here to hurt her.
“Breathe,topolina,” I murmur as I hover next to her on the bed, brushing a light finger along the line of her bruised cheekbone.
Anika releases a cool, minty breath, her nipples puckering as they harden at the soft touch.
