My breath catches in my throat. I stare into his deep brown eyes. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something rawunderneath it. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.
“Come here.”
I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him close. He breathes in the scent of my hair, and I feel his chest rise and fall against mine.
I hate seeing him like this. Vulnerable in a way that makes me ache.
An idea hits me.
Christmas isn’t eventhat big of a deal in Russia. I ordered a custom frame anyway for the selfie we took together with Clover the other day—our first picture together. He never let me try before out of fear of someone seeing it. What do you buy for someone who owns everything and has all the money in the world? Something that matters to him.
I curse and yank more tape, trying to wrap this present on the kitchen counter. They make this look way too easy in stores. I don’t know how to do this. Paper’s all wrinkled and crooked. It looks like a toddler wrapped it.
“Ugh. This is so stupid,” I mutter.
“What is stupid?”
He was supposed to be asleep …
I gasp and snatch the present up, hiding it behind my back like that’s going to fool anyone.
Alexei stands in his boxers, frowning as he takes a step toward me.
“Don’t come closer.”
He takes another step anyway.
“It’s a secret.”
He scoffs and keeps walking toward me with that slow, smug stride that means trouble.
I backpedal frantically, then spin around and take off, clutching the crumpled mess of wrapping paper. His heavy steps thud after me. I glance back to see him running full speed, pissed off and half-naked and gaining on me fast.
He’s way too fast for this to end well.
I skid to a stop in the doorway of our bedroom, panting hard. My hands go straight to his chest to stop him from bulldozing past me. “It’s a present, okay? Don’t ruin this.”
“I thought you said no presents.”
“Changed my mind.”
“You always change your mind this much or just with me?”
“Just with you.”
He smirks like he’s pleased with himself. “I got you something too.”
I blink in surprise.
“I wanted to.”
I nod. “Just go back to the living room so I can hide it under the bed.”
“You just told me where it is.”
I squint at him. “You’re not going to open it just because you know where it is.”
He hums like maybe he will anyway, then turns around and strolls off, glancing back once with a smug look. His back flexes as he walks, tattoos shifting over muscle. His thighs look smooth and solid, so distracting it should be illegal.
