Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
By the time we arrive in his mansion, I’m too distraught to notice the interiors, walking like a zombie to the hallway until Nikolai touches my elbow and points to the door in front of me. “This is your bedroom, Nina. The one across is mine. Sleep easy. No one will enter your room except for your personal maid, Elsa, whom you’ll meet in the morning.”
I stare at this massive hulk of a man and picture the scared boy. He’s forever reminded of that moment. Each time he runs a hand across the scarred skin, each time he watches himself in the mirror.
I cannot compare what I’ve been through to his, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand what it’s like to mourn the person you’ll never become.
Without thinking, I close the distance between us and rest a palm on his left cheek, right over the scar. He flinches but continues to stand still. “May all those who hurt you burn in hell, Nikolai.”
That earns me another small smile. “They already did, little wife.” He rests his hand over mine and leans against it, his stubble prickly against my skin.
Something ripples over his expression, his gaze holding mine, the air crackling between us. The ticking of the grandfather clock behind me seems to amplify the silence between us.
The muscles in his neck visibly tighten, and both our breathing grows faster, my heart racing, my core clenching. We’re waiting for the other to do something.
But…
The clock lets out a deep, resonant chime, cutting through the mounting tension between us. I start at the sound, and it breaks whatever spell we are under.
Nikolai snaps his eyes shut, dropping my hand and taking a deep breath. “Goodnight, little wife.”
Without another word, he spins on his heel, walks to his bedroom, and closes the door behind him, leaving me standing in the hallway, my hand still tingling. The longing is like a physical blow, throwing me for a loop.
All my plans of distancing from him evaporate. The relief I felt when he said he wouldn’t fuck me tonight is replaced by disappointment.
God, it’s driving me crazy. Maybe I just need to sleep this off. Maybe in the morning, I wouldn’t be as needy.
I can hope.
4
NIKOLAI
What the fuck?
Nina wanted to comfort me, and yet my caveman brain seemed to take it as an invitation to pounce on her.
The mattress dips as I sit on it and prop my elbows on my knees, clutching my head. Frustration and disappointment gnaw at me.
What if I scared her? What if I just undid all the ways I managed to put her mind at ease? What if she thinks I’m going to force myself on her now?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I have no idea how to navigate this situation I’m in. Why did I have to go fucking ruin everything by being unable to control myself? It took everything in me not to kiss her right there and then. Her mouth is so inviting, so soft, so plump.
My body lit up at her touch, stirring to life for the first time in thirty-two years. It’s a little unsettling but not entirely unpleasant.
Tomorrow. I will know tomorrow if all my efforts at easing her worries have gone down the drain. If she begins walking on eggshells around me. If she looks at me with fear.
Stripping off my clothes, I stand under the shower and brace both hands on the tiled wall, toying with the idea of finding my release.
I’ve been walking around with a boner all night, and I can’t take it anymore. With a growl, I wrap a hand around my cock and conjure Nina’s beautiful face and her fucking delectable body—all those soft, glorious curves.
It’s pathetic, jerking off to thoughts of my wife on our wedding night. But I’ll take it. As long as she’s across the room from me, I will keep my distance.
Even if that means fucking my hand day in and day out.
5
NINA
The first rays of early morning sunlight slip through the sheer curtains, and my eyes flutter open. For a moment, I linger in that calm, hazy space between dreams and reality, but when the disorientation clears, I sit up in bed and groan.
Father sent three suitcases of my clothes before we came home last night, and everything else—shower, skincare, and hours of tossing and turning before succumbing to sleep—was a blur.
I shower and brush my teeth, still in the process of taking in how grand this bedroom is. It’s at least three times the size of my old bedroom, with high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows lining one wall, two deep armchairs around a wooden coffee table to one side, and the walls painted a warm ivory color.
I sit on the oversized bed in a silk robe, sweeping my gaze and smiling. I won’t miss my old bedroom. This is infinitely better.