Page 147 of Inked in Devotion

My husband was sexy as hell. And he was right. Even with Sebastian in the bedroom, I couldn’t help feeling the need to wrap myself around him.

He was quiet when we entered the bedroom. Quiet as he approached the crib, and we both peered down on our son.

“See,” he whispered in my ear. “Fast asleep.”

“Fine, what do you propose?”

“Let me take care of you, Chloshka.”

He lowered me to my feet, but then he stood there staring at me in the dark. The space between the curtain rod and the rings allowed the full moon to shoot moonbeams into parts of the room. It was shining on me now, casting a long shadow across the room.

“What?” I whispered.

“I have so much in here.” He clasped my hand and placed it over his heart. “I’ve loved you since that thunderstorm where I nearly lost you.”

“You love me?” He hinted of it, but for him to tell me directly filled my heart to the brim.

He glanced away briefly before meeting my eyes again. “You don’t have to say it back. I just⁠—”

I pressed a finger to his mouth. “Stop.”

His brows drew together.

“Don’t explain.” Tears warmed my eyes. Kolya, my man of action. My protector. My husband. Father of my son. “Just say it.”

Kolya inched closer, letting the moonbeams illuminate his brilliant blue eyes. “I love you, Chloe Petrova.”

“And I love you, Nikolai Petrov.” I tipped my chin up. “Now kiss me.”

And he did.

Epilogue

Three months later

Chloe

“Are you sure you will not miss this place?” Dora asked me as I carried out the box with the last of my things. The shelter officially opened two months ago. Meanwhile, I had enrolled in classes focusing on neuropsychology. It might take me another decade to get a PhD, but I was looking forward to where this new adventure would take me.

“I’ll visit.” I smiled. “Opening this NGO taught me a lot about administrative duties.”

“That you hate them?” Dora teased.

We laughed and exchanged more small talk as she walked me to the reception area. She gave me a last hug and said goodbye.

I barely heard her because I was focused on a little girl of about six. One of the shelter staff was helping her mother fill out the form at the kiosk. The girl gave me a shy smile.

My heart clenched. I approached them, lowered my box onto an empty chair, and crouched in front of the girl.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” she replied.

“Welcome to Renewed Hope.”

“Do you live here too?” she asked.

“I used to live in a place like this,” I replied. “It helped me a lot.”