Page 118 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

He smiles. “Somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.”

I tilt my head, thinking. “Maldives?”

“Another place you want more than there.”

I gasp, bouncing a little in my seat. “The Bahamas?”

He smiles, eyes warm. “The Bahamas.”

I squeal, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing his cheeks, his jaw, his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He laughs, arms wrapping around me tight. “I like seeing you happy.”

I pull back, forehead resting against his. “You make me happy.”

A few hours later we land, and instead of a hotel, the car takes us straight to a private stretch of coastline. When we step out, the sight steals my breath.

A sprawling beach house sits right on the edge of turquoise water, white stone and glass, wide terraces opening to the ocean, infinity pool, palms swaying in the breeze.

We head inside, and it’s interior is opulent. “This place is beautiful.”

Leonid comes up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. “Good. Because it’s yours.”

I spin in his hold. “What?”

He nods toward the coffee table in the living room, on it sits a folder of papers. I walk over and pick it up, flip it open.

The deed, it’s in my name.

I look back at him, stunned. “Leonid, why?”

“It’s your anniversary gift.”

“But we have a home,” I say, voice cracking a little.

“Yeah. We do.” He steps closer, hands settling on my hips. “But I remember you talking, when we first met, about how you always dreamed of having your own place. Somewhere just yours. Even though we’re now married, doesn’t mean you can’t still have it.”

Tears prick my eyes. “You remembered that?”

“I remember everything you say.” He kisses my forehead, then my lips.

“Now I feel bad about the gift I got you.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “You don’t have to get me anything, solnyshko. You being in my life is the only gift I need.” His voice drops, warm and serious. “You’re the best mother to our children. Every single day I wake up wondering how I got so damn lucky with you.”

My heart squeezes so hard it hurts. I melt into him, arms sliding around his waist, cheek pressing to his chest.

“We have dinner reservations in an hour.”

I groan, pressing closer anyway. “Five more minutes?”

He swats my ass, and steps back with a dark chuckle. “Go get ready, baby. Or we’ll be late.”

I pout, but obey, heading inside to change.

Dinner is perfect, by the time we finish, the moon is high, shimmering across the waves.

After getting back to the house, we decide to take a walk along the beach barefoot, the gentle waves lapping at the shore. I stop at the water’s edge, dress fluttering in the breeze, and turn to Leonid. “I’ve always wanted to have sex on the beach.”