When he pulled back for a second, giving her a chance to breathe, she finally asked, “What has gotten into you?”
A rugged grin lit up his face. “You, Maggie,” he confessed and then he was taking her breath away with another deep kiss.
In minutes, they were caught in the throes of passion, their mouths crushed together, parting only to let Maggie get air. She heard the zipper of his pants through the fog of arousal, and seconds later, she was moaning as he penetrated her.
This was different than the night before. He took his time with her now, worshipping her with his lips and hands, moving into her sensually. Maggie returned his tenderness with her own, never backing down or shying away as they enjoyed one another to the fullest extent possible.
It wasn’t long before she felt herself on the verge of another earth-shattering orgasm, and as she threw her head back, crying out his name in ecstasy, she felt his hot seed gush into her.
For several moments after their shared release, all she could do was hold him, her face pressed into his shoulder as she came down from the considerable height he’d carried her to.
She was still panting when he kissed the puncture wounds on her skin, his mark, and whispered sweetly, “I love you, Maggie.”
“I love you, too,” she answered, meaning it more now than she ever had before.
Chapter Forty-Six
By the time Anatoly left Maggie’s apartment he was running late for his monthly meeting with Bishop Peter. For years they had a standing date on the books to check in with each other, discuss, pray, whatever was needed at the time. It had started as a way to keep Peter on the straight and narrow when he himself was a troubled youth, but it had swiftly turned into a tradition that even now Anatoly wasn’t willing to break.
He had explained that to Maggie after jumping her in the kitchen and she had seemed to understand. Though perhaps she’d just been too distracted after their impromptu love-making to put up a fuss?
Either way, she’d said nothing when he left except to invite him back again when he was finished and he had taken that as a good enough sign that she wasn’t upset with him. More importantly, that she wasn’t upset with the bishop either.
His thoughts were of nothing but her as he walked into Peter’s sitting room still wearing the clothes he’d put on the night before. There simply hadn’t been enough time to go by the church and change or he would have been even later.
“Ah, Anatoly,” Peter greeted him with a beaming grin, all formalities gone given the casualness of these meetings. “It is good to see you again. I had begun to fear you wouldn’t come given our last conversation.”
Anatoly smiled and shook his head. “I would not dream of missing one of our check-ins, Bishop. Please forgive tardiness.”
“Of course, not to worry.” He waved him over. “Come, sit, tell me, how have you been?”
As they got lost in polite conversation, Anatoly’s mind continued to return to Maggie. He wondered what she was doing now, if she was pouring over the case files on her own or not. It was difficult to be away from her so soon after their joining, but he was certain she wouldn’t want him to forsake his other responsibilities to spend every second with her. Even if part of him wanted to do just that.
“I seem to have lost you…” Peter said, setting his tea cup down on the coffee table between them. “How is the detective, then?”
Anatoly couldn’t keep his face from heating up at the mention of her. “She is well,” he answered tentatively and then in a rush, he was once again confessing what had happened to the bishop.
Of course, many details were spared, but that he had slept with her definitely slipped from his mouth before he could stop the words from spilling out.
Peter listened attentively, his expression frustratingly unreadable, but as Anatoly explained that Maggie’s birthday had been the day before, a little frown creased the old man’s brow. “So, you haven’t heeded my advice, I see. On the contrary, you speak as though taking this woman to bed makes her yours somehow. Tell me, Anatoly, do you intend to marry, Detective Boone?”
He opened his mouth to answer, his jaw working but no sound came out. That was not the response he had hoped for and the blatant question took him by surprise. Was marriage even possible? Who would perform such a union given the circumstances?
“Da, if she would have me,” he finally answered when he found his voice again. “I truly love her, Peter. With whole heart.”
The bishop seemed to consider this. “She is not Russian Orthodox,” he countered after a moment’s thought. “Does her lack of a connection with God not bother you?”
“Nyet,” he frowned. “She has good heart and strives for good always. Perhaps I can guide her to Him, but if not, that is her choice. I will not push beliefs on her. Regardless, relationship with Christ cannot happen overnight.”
“True enough,” Peter admitted, but then he pursed his lips. “And what of your calling? Are you giving up on everything you have achieved?”
Anatoly frowned at that, not liking the direction this conversation had gone. But he couldn’t fault Peter for being curious and whether he liked it or not, these were questions he would have to face eventually. “I have decided to give to God in other ways than to be priest.”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up at this, his surprise almost palpable. Then he was shaking his head. “A loss for the priesthood to be sure,” he said sadly, but there was something softer about his expression. “I can’t say I agree with any of this, Anatoly, but if this is your decision, you have my support as your old friend. But, as your bishop… That is a more complicated matter.”
They sat in silence for several minutes after that. Anatoly looking down at his hands in thought, hoping he could convince Peter that he was doing the right thing.
Peter on the other hand was watching him closely. Anatoly could feel his gaze boring into him, studying him, and for the first time, he felt uncomfortable in the bishop’s presence.
