by Selena Scott
Gladly refueling on rage, AJ strode to the door and flung it open. “Since when do you knock?”
Her mouth dropped open in shock.
He was standing there, his hair just as wild as yesterday. But he was wearing… khakis. And a dark blue button-up dress shirt.
With a tie.
She’d barely gotten her eyes off of the leather dress shoes on his feet before she realized he was carrying a bouquet of daisies in his hand.
She took a step back from him.
What the fuck?
“Hello,” he said, his voice pouring over her like honey.
She found she could barely form a sentence right now. So she said the first thing that popped into her mind.
“You brought me flowers.” She squinted her eyes at him in confusion.
“Da,” he answered slowly, as if he wasn’t sure what the problem was.
“Why?” she asked, completely incredulous. Maybe she could have guessed if her brains hadn’t been wildly scrambled by the sight of Anton Malashovik dressed like he was heading into the office. Never in her life had she seen him in anything other than jeans and a raggedy shirt. Besides his brothers’ weddings, but that didn’t count. And here he was in Dockers? She shook her head as if to clear it.
He cocked his head at her, completely baffled by her incredulity. “Why?” he repeated her question. “I don’t know. World is round. Cats hate dogs. Men bring flowers.” He shoved them into her hand and crowded into her until she stepped back far enough for him to shoulder his way inside.
He tugged at the fully buttoned collar of his shirt, in such stark contrast to the tangled mess of his beard.
She closed the door behind him and turned to face him, the flowers hanging limply at her side.
“You are supposed to put those somewhere, no?” he asked, pointing at them.
“I can put them in the compost if it makes you feel better,” she replied, as sugary sweet as possible while her eyes shot daggers. She was finding her footing again. And not a moment too soon.
“Emin says they will make you softer to me. He was wrong.”
“Oh, the flowers were Emin’s idea? Well, I guess I can keep them, then.” Her tone was still sweet enough to bake a pie, but her movements were jerky as she tossed them in a blue glass vase, and filled it with water.
He forced himself not to smile at all when, unable to help herself, her anger cracked a little and she fussed with the placement of the vase on the counter. He had no trouble being sober when she faced him again, her eyes crackling with fury.
He jammed his hands in the pockets of those dumbass pants. “I know you say we only talk about baby. But I want one thing to say first.”
AJ sucked her teeth. “Fine. But I’m eating while you talk. And I can kick you out whenever I want, whether we’ve talked about the baby yet or not.”
“Okay.” He pulled out one of the bar stools at the counter for her. “Sit, then.”
He opened the fridge door, selected a Tupperware, almost at random, and dumped it into a bowl.
“That bowl isn’t microwave safe,” she snapped, plopping down onto the bar stool. It was just like him. To suddenly be making food for her. But also not to even ask what she wanted to eat. And to potentially ruin one of her favorite bowls in the process. It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t charming. It was annoying. She told herself that three times in a row before she gave up.
“Oh,” he frowned down at it. Shrugging, he dug into the silverware drawer and pulled out two forks. He tossed it all down on the counter between them and leaned onto his elbows. “Cold chicken and rice will not kill us.”
She sighed. God. She really needed to learn how to stay mad at him for longer than 15 seconds. And she was mad still. Just not enough to do something petty like refuse this perfectly good food.
They ate in, if not companionable, then peaceful silence for a few minutes until her hunger had abated enough to hear what he had to say.
“So…” she prodded him, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Okay,” he let out a long breath, like he was nervous. Which was impossible. She’d never seen him nervous before. He was a bear, for Christ’s sake. What did he have to be nervous about?
Anton slicked his palms down his khakis and walked around the counter so that they were on the same side. He lifted his hands, hesitated, and then reached out for hers.
She forced her body’s awareness to stay general and not hyperfocus on the one spot they were touching. Fat chance.
“Okay,” he said again and cleared his throat. “I am no good for you.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” She yanked her hands out of his and hopped down off the bar stool. “Don’t you fucking start that shit again, Anton. I’ve heard enough of that to last me a lifetime.”
“No!” he paced after her, got in front of her long enough to nudge her toward the couch to sit her down again. “I must finish this time.”
He waved his hands in the air like he was performing a magic trick. “We rewind. To morning in truck.”
AJ bit her lip. What? He wanted to go back to that day? Try the conversation again? “You’re asking for a do-over?”
“Yes,” he nodded, looking tremendously relieved that she was understanding. “I want do-over.” He sat down on the coffee table, facing her. He took her hands again. “AJ, I am no good for you. Because of things that happen to me. That make me… not like other men. You are so good. So sweet. And everything soft and beautiful.”
Oh, Jesus. She was not prepared for this.
“And I am scared I do a rough thing that hurts you.” His eyes fell to her collarbone, where his bite mark had long since faded. “And it reminds me that I am no good for you.” He took a deep breath. “But I will try. For you and baby. I will read the books. I have good father. So I do everything he did. I protect you. From everything. I do not have very much money. But I will fix that, too. I-”
AJ sprang to her feet. She needed some sort of defense. Anything that was gonna stop her from ripping her heart out and handing it to this man. This man she loved so goddamn much she couldn’t feel her fingers right now. She grasped at the loose end that was haunting her.
“Is this because I’m pregnant?” she asked, looking down at where he sat on the coffee table. “Look, I know I’m mad at you. But I’m not ever going to keep you from the baby. You don't have to be different for me just to be in the baby’s life.” She waved at his fancy clothes. “I know who you are. I’m not expecting you to change just because you knocked me up. And you don’t have to worry. You can be this baby’s father in any way you want. You don’t have to act like you want to be with me, alright?”
The words flung out of her mouth in one huge blur. Anton was completely still as she spoke, except for the look of horror that tore across his face.
Anton stood, taking her by the shoulders and sitting her back down. But he paced instead of sitting himself.
“You think I do this, say this, because I make you pregnant?” He looked at her incredulously and then considered her. “Well, yes. In way. But also no.” He tossed his hands in the air. “I knew I should bring English dictionary. Look. I do not do and say these things for honor or to ‘step up to plate’. I do this because I make you pregnant. So now you are finally mine.”
AJ’s breath stopped in her throat. Everything went fuzzy around the edges like a filter on an Instagram photo.
“We are tied together now,” he continued. “So all I have to do is treat you well. Be good enough for you. This,” he gestured to her belly, “means that there is no use fighting with myself anymore. It is done. Over. I must surrender and be good to you now.”
“Surrender?” she choked. “God, Anton, you make it sound like I’m trapping you.”
He shook his head vehemently. “You cannot trap me in place I want to be.” For the second time in 24 hours, he fell to his knees in front of her. “I wanted to make you pregnant that night, bahinia. I hated the cond
om I wore. Because it would separate me from you. I wanted to mix. To see you round with part of me. That night and now. Here. I want to give you everything. A family. A future.”
“Oh God.” She dropped her head into her hands and finally let her tears come. There was only so much holding them back a girl could do. “You’re killing me. Of course I want those things. Of course. You asshole. And you’re gonna make me say no.”
“Why will you say no?” His voice was quiet.
“I-” She was mortified at the reason and so mad that he was gonna make her say it out loud. “I can’t explain it right now.”
“Please try, Autumn.”
“I - I,” she wracked her brain for a reason, any reason, not to have to reveal her deepest insecurity right now. To this man whom she was only starting to trust again. “I can’t even think straight with that badger on your face.”
He recoiled from her. “What?”
“Your awful beard,” she snapped, thrilled to not be vulnerable for a moment. “I can barely take you seriously when you look like that.”
He ran a hand over it. “I kind of like it.”
“With your white streak, you look like a skunk,” she informed him. “Come on.”
With that, she rose, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bathroom. She dug her cosmetology kit out of her backpack and sat him down on a folding chair she dragged from the closet.
He eyed the straight razor she pulled out of her case with an appropriate amount of caution. “Maybe we wait until you are calm.”
“I’m calm,” she replied. “Now take off your shirt unless you want shaving cream and clippings all over it.”
That instruction he had no problem with. He tugged at the tie, popped a few buttons on the collar and then yanked the whole thing off over his head, tossing it out into the hallway.
“Okay,” she blew a long slow breath out between her lips and it raised Anton’s skin where it floated across him. But she wasn’t looking at him in a heated way. It was professional. She cocked her head to one side, picturing exactly what she was going to do to his hair.
It wasn’t hot for her, maybe. But the intensity of her gaze had him adjusting himself in his pants. Her slow, hooded eyes followed the movement of his hand and she blushed a little, but kept it pushing.
She leaned him forward and quickly washed his hair in the sink, putting a towel on his shoulders to keep the drips at bay.
He sniffed at his own hair. “I smell like you now.”
“Hmm,” she agreed, but she was barely listening as she tugged at his hair, bending down and turning his head this way and that. She had a good idea and she was getting her usual haircut thrill. She loved being able to do this for people.
She snipped and combed. Dancing from one side of the chair to the other.
Meanwhile, Anton was slowly going insane. Every small tug of her fingers, each brush of her sleeve against his shoulder, every little hum of approval she made were absolutely lighting him up. Each touch layered over the next until he felt like every part of his scalp, neck, ears, shoulders, all of it were on fire, burning for her.
He wasn’t even bothering to deal with the raging erection pressing against his pants. He’d pretty much laid all his cards on the table for her. So if she had a problem with this, well, she could look away. She wasn’t looking away, he noticed as he watched her in the mirror. Her eyes fell toward the ridge in his pants every ten seconds or so, like she couldn’t believe it was there.
“Whose idea was the fancy clothes?” she asked eventually, when the silence had started to hum and thicken with their need for one another.
“Hmmm?”
“You said the flowers were Emin’s idea. Whose was the fancy clothes?”
“Ah. Danil.” He smirked at her in the mirror. They both knew how much Danil cared about looking professional for his job as a lawyer. When he’d first started working, they’d all made fun of him to no end. “And the hair was Maxim.”
“What?” AJ blinked at him in the mirror.
“Maxim say that you will have to touch me because you cannot look at, how did you call it? Badger? On my face?”
AJ pursed her lips together, but the smile was already slipping through. “He was right,” she muttered as she trimmed carefully over his ears. “So, was any of it your idea?”
“The words. All the words were mine.”
His eyes followed her in the mirror but she didn’t look up at him this time. She kept her gaze firmly on his haircut, her brow furrowing with her racing thoughts.
And then the haircut was done and he had to admit it looked good, long and wavy on the top. Shorter and slicked back over his ears.
“I was going for a James Dean thing,” she said, squinting at him. She let her eyes fall to his beard. “Now for this monstrosity.”
She used some sort of shaving cream on his beard and tossed a small towel over her shoulder like an old school barber. Using the straight razor she slowly, carefully shaved him clean. She turned his head this way and that as she went, close enough to feel his breath on her face.
He would have thought that having a blade to his throat would have discouraged his dick, but when she used the damp towel to get the rest of the shaving cream off his face, he was still hard as a rock for her.
“Wow,” she whispered, finally coming out of hairdresser mode and back to AJ mode. “I haven’t seen you without a five-o’clock shadow since I was 15,” she whispered, trailing one hand over his smooth, carved cheek.
“Appreciate it now,” he said, eyeing himself in the mirror. “Clean shave only lasts few hours for me.”
“I’ve noticed.” She started cleaning up the tools she’d used.
“You noticed because you watched me, no?”
His words had her hands fumbling for a second, but she quickly recovered. “I’m sorry?”
“You watched me in same way I watched you, no?”
“I - I’m not sure.”
He eyed her like he didn’t believe her, but he let it drop.
“You can shower off all the clippings if you want,” she said as she started toward the broom closet.
He grabbed her wrist before she could get too far, tugged her down so her ass landed directly on top of his cock.
“Tell me what you did not say before. Why you say no to me.”
Oh God. She really, really didn’t want to have to say it out loud. But his eyes were so dark, so close. And she wasn’t used to talking to him like this, touching him. “Because I couldn’t do that to you, Anton. Because I’ll never say yes and bind you to somebody you don’t want.”
He recoiled. Blinked at her. “Don’t want?”
“I know you don’t want me. Not really. You were turned on that night we slept together, sure. But it was so easy for you to leave. And I know it was because,” she bit her lip, spit it out. “Because it was my first time and I wasn’t any good at it. And I get it. I mean, I’m all plain Jane. And you’re this sex god-”
His hand clamped over her mouth, effectively shutting her up. His eyes burned like black diamonds as he stood with her in his arms. He set her on top of the bathroom counter and planted his hands on either side of her.
“Do. Not. Move,” he ordered her as he stepped back and started unbuttoning his pants. He paused halfway through, stepped up to her again. Tugging her sweater over her head, he immediately fell to his knees and pulled her leggings right off.
“White panties,” he muttered as he nipped at the arch of her foot before rising again and dexterously unclipping her bra.
In less than 15 seconds he’d completely undressed her except for her underwear and AJ hadn’t even decided if she’d forgiven him yet. She was in so much trouble.
Just when she expected him to fall on her, he stepped back. “Now, do not move,” he commanded, before shucking off his own pants and underwear and stepping into the shower, not bothering to close the shower curtain.
AJ was aware that her mouth was open. And maybe someda
y she’d work up the strength to be able to close it again. But as he stepped under the spray of water, roughly washing off all the clippings from his haircut, AJ could only manage one thought.
Damn.
Dude’s muscles had muscles. She knew he was built like a brick, she’d seen him mostly naked plenty of times. He was a shifter after all, and not all that concerned with nudity. But, Jesus. Never like this. His skin was golden, dusted with ash brown hair. Each leg was like a tree trunk, his calves thick and leading down to a good-looking set of ankles. His chest was wide and led to two built shoulders. She was familiar with the network of scars over his back. From his time with Navuka. But they didn’t mar his beauty. They enhanced it.
And then there was his cock. Not that she’d had much experience in that area, but this seemed ridiculously large to her. In fact, now that she was getting a good look, she really had no idea how he’d ever gotten that thing inside of her. It was pretty much the size of her forearm.
“You think I do not want you.” He slammed off the shower and slicked water off his hair. Laughed a humorless laugh. “Wanting you is knife in my gut for ten years.” He didn’t bother with a towel, just whisked his hand over his arms, across his chest. “And you say it is not real. I wanted you when you were girl. 15. I was 22 and ashamed with it.” He stepped out of the tub, still dripping, golden, and straining for her. "You say I do not want you.” He paced toward her.
“I learn English for you,” he growled, picking her up by the hips and striding out of the bathroom. Her arms came around his neck automatically as he carried her down the hall to her bedroom. He stepped through the door like he owned the place. Wasted no time in laying her down on the bed.
He stood up over her, looped his fingers in her panties and slid them off, tossing them aside like they’d offended him.
“You say I do not want you. You say it was easy for me to leave you.” He carded a hand through his wet hair and sent water droplets ricocheting all over. His eyes were sparking and dangerous as she lay, naked and spread, on the bed for him. “Autumn. Do you know what ‘bahinia’ means?”
It was all she could do to weakly shake her head from side to side.
