Miko gives me a curious look, then takes my hand to lead me from the dining room as I wish his brothers a good night. Electricity crackles between our palms as he interlaces our fingers, scattering my thoughts. It’s silent as we climb the stairs together, and in the momentary hush, I scramble to get my head back together.
“Something on your mind?” Miko asks as he opens the door to our room and follows me inside.
“Hmm? No,” I say too quickly, immediately arousing his suspicion.
“Anika,” he says, his voice holding that hint of warning that sends a shiver down my spine.
The door shuts softly behind him, and my pulse jumps as I turn to face him, my cheeks warming once more.
Miko’s eyebrows press together, emotion flitting across his face before it settles into genuine concern. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” he says softly, his deep voice hypnotic as he takes a slow step toward me like he thinks one wrong move might make me bolt.
Christ, I’ve done a number on him, haven’t I?
My stomach tightens with guilt, especially when I know what it is I want to talk to him about. “Okay,” I breathe, “I do have something on my mind,” I whisper, glancing toward the bed. “Do you… want to sit down?”
His expression darkens, his brow furrowing, but he does as I suggest, making the edge of the mattress drop a solid six inches before he rests his elbows on his knees and interlaces his fingers to hear me out.
The tension is almost palpable as I come to stand before him, but my nerves are in such a jumble, I can’t bring myself to sit.
Instead, I pace in front of him, picking nervously at my fingernails as I work up the courage to speak.
“You’re trying to tell me that things aren’t working between us,” he guesses, his voice flat and emotionless.
I stop, spinning in my tracks to gape at him. “How did you…? What makes you think that?” I ask, suddenly anxious that he feels things aren’t working—and maybe that’s why he hasn’t wanted to have sex.
Sighing heavily, Miko drops his head into his hands and scrubs his scalp. Then, with a look of resignation, he levels me with his eyes. “I know things haven’t been going well. I can see you’reunhappy. I just… I don’t know what to do, Anika. I don’t know how to fix it.”
I gawk openly at him, my jaw hanging loose as he sends my mind reeling. “You think—I’m unhappy,” I say, mulling over his words. I suppose he’s notwrong. But I get the feeling he means it in an entirely different way.
Dropping his gaze to his interlocked fingers, he nods. “I get it. It’s not always so easy to forgive as we might hope,” he says.
“Forgive… Miko, what are you talking about?” I ask, genuinely confused now.
His blue eyes snap up to meet mine. “You’ve had time to think about it now. You gave me a position of trust, and I never should have pushed things so far.”
“When…?”
“The night of your flashback!” he insists, his voice rising in distress and making me flinch. His jaw clenches, his eyes igniting in frustration, and he closes them—closing me out as he seems to rein himself in with effort. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m just—” He swallows hard. “I thought I had more time.”
“Miko, you’re not making any sense. Time for what?” I ask, stepping closer to comb my fingers into his perfectly tousled, thick black curls.
He tips his chin up, his expression pained as he grasps my hips gently, pulling me closer so his chin rests on my belly. “More time to make it right.”
My heart twinges, tears pricking my eyes at the remorse in his tone. He’s still beating himself up about what happened. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t touched me. He no longer trusts himself.
“I told you before, you have nothing to make right. Neither of us knew that might happen. Now we do,” I say matter-of-factly, trying to ease his guilt. “But you’re right. I am unhappy. Our sex life has been a highlight of my new life with you, and I don’t think it’s fair that you keep depriving me of it,” I scold.
“But—”
“Nope,” I cut in, placing a finger over his lips to stop his objection. “You said I could tell you anything,” I point out.
Miko’s eyes warm, and his hand skates lightly up my hip to capture the back of my hand against his mouth.
He brushes a kiss to my silencing finger, then opens my hand to kiss my palm.
The gesture sends pleasure zinging up my arm, and I press my suddenly weak knees together. I really need to get a hold of myself.
“Youcantell me anything,” he assures me. “I just don’t think sex is a good idea when it could drag you back into the nightmares you’re clearly still trying to heal from.”
