I closed my eyes as he kissed up my neck after that tease. He knew that we were both in agreement on hiding the fact that he and I were a couple in front of Maisie. I had no clue how—when or if—to tell her that “Mister” could be dropped from his name.
Even though he was feeling me up and not wasting time for us to fool around, going with the easy route of connecting physically, I felt the sincere concern in his tone.
He cared.
He didn’t like the idea of my being lonely.
I didn’t think that he ever stopped caring about me. Perhaps from the first time I saw him at the Diamond Mirage.
He cares because he’s not the villain.
He cares because he wants what’s best for me, not himself.
He cares because…
I drew in a shaky breath.
He cares because he’s exactly the kind of man I want to love.
The kind of man that might love me.
The man Idolove.
Thinking that to myself was one thing. But to confess it aloud was a whole other challenge.
I couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. I wasn’t sure how to admit I loved this man. I vowed to never forgive my husband’s killer. I didn’t want to look past Sergei’s part in Fitz’s death. But the contradictions of who he was ate away at me.
He could be so controlling and dominant as my lover, ensuring I would always be taken care of.
Not evil and wishing me any malice like a stone-cold killer.
He’s not tender and gentle.
Not like Fitz.
I never had to wonder what to expect with my late husband, but taking a chance on my feelings for Sergei felt like being stuck on a roller coaster, leaving me without a way to know what might happen next.
Stop.
Stop comparing him to Fitz.
Stop looking for what you had before.
Move on.
Don’t torture yourself with comparing them.
“Mommy?”
Maisie’s voice sounded from outside my bedroom door.
Sergei froze, his fingers and lips going still.
“Mommy? I can’t sleep no more.”
He groaned slightly, too quietly for her to hear. Then before she could open the door and find us together in bed, he braced himself up over me, kissed my forehead, and snuck off to hide in my bathroom.
I lay there, letting my heart slow down from the foreplay he’d instigated. It never mattered how long we played around or what he did. He had the unique skill to make my heart race and my pussy drip.
