Nikolai 2 (Her Russian Protector #6)

by Roxie Rivera

  An invisible band squeezed his chest so hard, Nikolai couldn't breathe. Feeling so fucking dirty, he abruptly stood and took a step away from the bed. Vivian stared up at him with confusion. God, but she looked so impossibly young and innocent in his bed. A feeling he didn’t want to name invaded his stomach.

  Struck by the stark differences between them, by all the ways he could never be good enough for her and their child, he staggered away from their bedroom and into the bathroom. He ripped at his clothing, jerking it off his body and throwing it on the ground. Still struggling to breathe, he stepped into the shower and twisted the knob. The showerheads and jets mounted flush along the travertine ceiling and walls blasted him with cold water that shocked his system. Seconds later, the water burned hot. Resting his forehead against the tile, he didn't care if it scalded his tattooed skin. Nothing would ever wash away the stain of the terrible things he had done.

  A small, soft hand touched his back and startled him. He instantly reached for the knob, adjusting the water temperature so Vivian wouldn't be hurt. Unable to look at her, he continued to press his forehead against the tile. He shut his eyes when she wrapped her arms around his waist and began dotting sweet little kisses across his back.

  He had broken her trust. He had hurt her. He had made her cry. He had left her feeling forgotten and abandoned yet here she was comforting him. In some ways, her kindness and love made him feel even worse.

  "I needed you today." Her cheek rested against his back now, and her arms embraced him tighter. "We needed you today."

  He swallowed around the heavy lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, Vee."

  It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But it was all he could offer.

  "Maybe we aren't ready to be parents."

  The words stabbed through his heart like an ice pick. Was she having second thoughts about having his baby? "Don't say that."

  "Why not? It's true. Look at us! I don't have the first clue about being a mother and you?"

  He gritted his teeth at the unspoken implication. Those old bitter feelings of abandonment and worthlessness crept into his head and soured his stomach. "What? Say it, Vivian."

  Her arms dropped from his waist. "I don’t want to fight with you."

  "It's too late for that." He couldn't bear to look at her so he kept his gaze fixed forward on the tile "Say it, Vivian. Say what you're really thinking about me. I'm sure it's nothing worse than I've thought about myself. I'm a violent criminal. I'm an ex-con who was such a bad seed that his real father left him to die on the streets rather than taking him in. I'm broken inside and all twisted up because I was pimped out to pedophiles and—"

  "Stop." Vivian gripped his shoulder and tried to turn him around. "Stop it, Nikolai." She shoved hard on his shoulder, and he relented. Looking over her head, he tried to fight her as she cupped his face and tugged his head down but it was futile. She peered into his face, her eyes searching his, and whispered "Enough."

  For a long, heady moment, they simply stared at one another. She found the courage to speak first. Always his brave, beautiful Vee…

  "I meant that your job isn't exactly the most stable. We never know when you're going to be here or when you're going to have to slip out of the house in the middle of the night." She trailed her fingertips down his cheek. "Today scared me. I started thinking about what it would be like to do this," her hand drifted to the gentle curve of her belly, "all alone."

  "God, Vee." Shamed and feeling lower than dirt, he wrapped his arms around his wife and lovingly embraced her. "I fucked up today, but you aren't alone. You'll never be alone in this." He started to make promises but bit his tongue. He didn't want to break them. "I will try, Vee."

  "I know you will." She brushed her fingers along his jaw. "You are broken and twisted inside, Nikolai, but so am I. The things we survived as kids?" She shook her head. "We're both lucky we're even alive today. It doesn't do us any good to dwell on all the mistakes we've made or the bad things that happened to us. It won't change anything. This is where we are in life—our shared life."

  She grasped his hand and dragged it down to her stomach. She rested her palm atop his, their hands covering the small space where their child was growing. "We are all this baby has. It's you and me against a big, scary world. Us. Together. That's the only way this works."

  With her words hanging in the air between them, she grabbed the bar of soap he preferred from the tile alcove where he kept it and lathered her hands. Gentle and thorough, Vivian spread her soapy palms all over his body. He suspected she had figured out the reason he had bolted from their bedroom to the shower. She took her time washing his skin and even scrubbed shampoo onto his hair, her short and neatly trimmed nails scratching at his scalp as he bent forward to make it easier for her to reach him.

  The water rinsed away the soap and shampoo clinging to his skin, but one lone sudsy bubble rode the curve of Vivian's breast. He reached out to follow the path it had taken with his finger. Even after the bubble popped, Nikolai's finger continued its trek. Since Ivan's wedding, he had noticed the subtle changes to Vivian's body. Her breasts filled his hand now and felt firmer and heavier. He traced one of the more prominent veins that led to her nipple. The little peak was darker now, a deeper, duskier pink that enthralled him.

  She exhaled a pleasured sigh when he dipped his head and tongued her nipple. He suckled her lightly, moving his mouth between breasts until she rose up on her toes and threaded her fingers through his hair. Concerned about the wet tile, he broke away from her just long enough to switch off the water. He didn't care about drying off or grabbing towels. He stepped out of the shower and onto the rug before swinging her up into his arms and carrying her into their bedroom.

  After placing her on their bed, he crawled on top of her and ravished her mouth. He loved the feel of her hands roaming his body, gliding along his sides and gripping his shoulders. Their tongues danced, and she whimpered into his mouth. He turned his attention to the curve of her neck and nipped and licked at the spot that made her shiver and giggle.

  Shoving her thighs apart, he clasped her ass in one hand and canted her hips up higher. His other hand snaked between her legs. Her eyes flashed when he dipped his fingers into her wet heat. She bucked her hips and boldly reached for him. Wrapping those elegant fingers around his cock, she stroked him a few times and bit her lower lip.

  He kissed her hard, stabbing his tongue against hers before nibbling her lip. Lining up their bodies, he pressed forward and sought the slick slide of her pussy with the blunt head of his erection. He thrust inside her and groaned at the sensation of tight heat enveloping his cock.

  Writhing and clutching, they moved together on the bed. Even after months as her husband, he still marveled in the intimacy they shared. He had never told Vee that she was the first—the only—woman he had ever made love to like this. With everyone else, face-to-face lovemaking had been too intimate and had made him feel too vulnerable. It was always rough and fast, from behind or facing away from him. The goal had always been simple—to get off and go home.

  But not with Vee. He wanted to see her gorgeous face, and he wanted her to see him. He wanted her to see him vulnerable and unmasked. He wanted her to see a side of him that he showed no one else. He indulged his need for comfort with lingering touches and tenderness.

  He loved watching the way her eyes widened and the way her pupils dilated. He had learned to read the twitch of her mouth and the flutter of her thick eyelashes. Judging by the way she clawed at his shoulders and gripped him between her thighs, she had learned to read him just as easily. She could see that he was close.

  But first…

  He changed the angle of his penetration and framed her clitoris between his fingers. He circled the little bud with quick flicks of his wrist all while driving into her cunt with deep, faster strokes that made her head fall back. Unable to help himself, he buried his face in her neck and nipped at the exposed line of her soft skin. Her pussy clenched him just be
fore the fluttering waves of her climax gripped his cock.

  "Kolya."

  And there it was. His favorite sound. His name falling from her sweet mouth on a sigh of ecstasy.

  Nikolai let go. He let those waves of pleasure crash over him and drag him down until he inhaled a shuddering, rough breath to refill his lungs. Not ready to be parted from her yet, he captured her mouth in a series of lazy, sensual kisses. He caressed her lush curves and smiled at the way she melted into his touch. Boneless beneath him, Vivian smiled sleepily.

  Sliding his arms around her, he dragged her into a normal sleeping position on the bed. With their wet hair and bodies, they had made a mess of the comforter. He dragged it down the bed and tossed it in the corner of the room. It would have to go to dry cleaning with his suits. He could just imagine the tsking Anna would do in the morning when she collected the laundry—and the way Vivian would blush when the older woman made a ribald remark.

  Turning off the lamp, he slid into bed beside her and tugged the sheet over their quickly cooling bodies. She burrowed into him, and he happily welcomed her into his arms and against his chest. Rubbing his face into her hair, he inhaled the sweet scent of her and felt the stress and the guilt of the day fade.

  Vivian drifted off within seconds, but his mind wasn't so fast to settle. The words she had spoken to him in the shower rattled around in his head. Though he intended to do everything in his power to make sure that Vivian and the baby were safe, he accepted the odds of his personal safety weren't very good. He had a lot of enemies, and he blocked the path of many hungry, ambitious younger men. He wasn't as stupid as Lorenzo Guzman. The cartel boss thought himself untouchable but Nikolai didn't share that delusion. Someday, somewhere, someone would make a move against him.

  Julio had seen that day coming. It was the reason why he had denied his son his name and sent the child's mother to Houston. It was the reason he had stood aside and allowed her to marry another man who would raise his son. None of that could have been easy for Julio to swallow, but he had done it with his son's best interests at heart.

  It hadn't worked. He had lost his child to a senseless act of recklessness.

  There had been a time when Nikolai had believed it might be possible to get out of the life. After the holiday attack on Vivian and the hell the broke loose in January, he had accepted the painful truth. He was never getting out of the mob. That door was closed, locked and barricaded. He was in this life until death.

  He hoped—prayed, really—that he would have a long life with Vivian. He wanted it all with her, kids and grandkids. He intended to do everything in his power to make that possible, but he had to be realistic. If something happened to him, he needed to ensure that Vivian and the baby were safe.

  Safe houses, stashed money, new identities—he had a lot of work to do.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, I came downstairs to find Nikolai in the kitchen. While I had barely found the energy to brush my teeth, wash my face and wrangle my hair into a messy bun, he had already showered and dressed for work. His wheat-colored suit jacket was slung over the back of a chair. He had a matching tie draped on top of it.

  I didn't see anyone else in the house, but I was sure that his men were somewhere nearby, probably in the backyard or enjoying coffee on the front porch. Even though I was barefoot and made hardly any noise, he sensed my approach and greeted me with a playful smile on his handsome face. "Morning."

  "Good morning." I embraced him from the side, careful to stay clear of the stove, and relished the strength of his arm around my shoulders. "I didn't realize you were already out of bed."

  He brushed a loving kiss against my temple. "I woke early and slipped out quietly. You need your rest." He lowered his head and planted his lips on mine. Holding my gaze, he said, "I'm sorry about yesterday, Vee. It was terrible of me."

  Even after making up last night, he still wore such an expression of pain on his face. I rubbed my hand across his chest. "I'm still annoyed with you about forgetting the appointment and not answering my texts or phone calls."

  "I forgot to get my phone back from Kostya after the meeting. I turned it on and looked at it this morning. There were seven messages from you." His hand cupped the back of my neck, and his thumb gently massaged me. "It won't happen again. You can believe that."

  "I do. So who did you meet with yesterday?"

  He glanced down at me. "That's not happening."

  "Touchy, touchy." I poked his side and disentangled myself from his arms to make a cup of tea. "Can you at least tell me about my father?"

  "I don't think that's a good idea. Do you want green onions in your omelet this morning?"

  "Not this morning." I wrinkled my nose and plucked one of the tiny cups of decaf green tea concentrate from the shelf near the one-cup brewer. Nikolai hated the contraption Lena had given us as a wedding gift and thought it was unnatural to drink coffee or tea that hadn't been properly brewed, but I was in love with it. "Why isn't it a good idea to tell me about my dad?"

  "Because he's a fugitive, Vivian. He murdered a government witness, broke out of U.S. Marshal custody and ran to Mexico. You don't want to be the girl with any knowledge of his whereabouts. Telling you that he was in Corpus yesterday was a huge mistake." He shook his head. "I got rattled last night and slipped."

  I popped the little cup of tea concentrate into place, chose my settings and leaned back against the countertop. "So the fact that he was in Corpus Christi yesterday means that something really, really bad is happening."

  Nikolai plated my omelet alongside two slices of fluffy French toast. "Yes, and if anyone asks if you've seen him or heard from him, you say no."

  "What about the call the other morning?" I brought my cup of tea to the island. "I can't lie about that."

  "You can and you will." Nikolai plucked a banana from the fruit bowl, peeled it and cut thick slices that dropped onto the French toast, just the way I liked it. "Romero used a burner phone. No one can trace that call. If anyone comes and asks him, you give them the party line. If they get difficult with you—"

  "I call our lawyer and you."

  "Exactly." He placed my plate in front of me. "The last thing we need are the Feds riding this perky little ass I love so much."

  I gasped when he popped my bottom and planted a noisy kiss on my neck. "Not so little anymore," I reminded him as his caressed the spot he'd playfully swatted. "I tried on clothes yesterday evening and most of them were too tight."

  "So we'll go shopping tomorrow," he promised. "You can get whatever you need for the trip." Now both of his hands were on my body, gliding over the silky fabric of my robe until he cupped my breasts. "I'm particularly enjoying this change."

  "Kolya." I clasped his wrists to stop him from sliding his hands inside my camisole to fondle my bare breasts. "Anyone could walk in and see us."

  "This is our home. We can do whatever the hell we'd like to do in our kitchen." He trailed ticklish kisses along the side of my throat. His hands moved down my sides and legs and turned up the inside of my thighs, forcing them apart slightly. His hands stopped at the tops of them, bunching up my sleep shorts. "If I want to toss you up on this counter and have you for breakfast, I will."

  I let loose a disappointed noise when he pulled his hands away and left me throbbing and needy with only a lingering kiss on my cheek. "Tease."

  He offered only a sexy grin before ducking into the refrigerator for the carton of orange juice. While I liked a big, delicious breakfast, he enjoyed simpler fare and rarely strayed from his usual bowl of oatmeal with a side of fruit plus coffee. The fact that he was having a glass of orange juice while I ate surprised me.

  Before I sat down, I walked into the mud room and took down my purse from the shelf where I stored it. I unzipped one of the inner pouches and produced the ultrasound printout strip. Nikolai had taken his usual seat at the end of the island and leaned back against the bar-height chair while he flipped through the business section of th
e paper. I slipped onto the seat next to him and smiled when reached out to stroke my back without looking up from the article he was reading.

  "This isn't as good as seeing the baby in person but it's the next best thing." I unrolled the strip and flattened it on the milky white granite. "We won't have an ultrasound again until I'm sixteen weeks or so."

  His face an unreadable mask, Nikolai set aside the paper and brushed the fingertips of his left hand down the strip of grainy images. He seemed almost afraid to touch them. Remembering the way he had gone to shower last night, I pieced together his hesitance. He wanted that ugly, viciously dirty side of his life never to touch me or the baby.

  Reaching for his hand, I interlaced our fingers and held up the strip for him to examine. "The doctor says everything looks great. The baby is right on target. I had some bloodwork done yesterday. They're supposed to call me if anything is wrong."

  Looking suddenly panicked, Nikolai asked, "Why would anything be wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

  I squeezed his hand. "I feel perfectly fine. I'm still really tired in the evenings, but my nausea seems to be fading. Except for last night," I added, glancing toward the sink I had barely reached before erupting. "Poor Boy! He thought it was his fault I got sick, but the pasta dish he made was so tasty."

  "I told him you were nervous and stressed about the show." Nikolai finally took the strip from me and placed it on the counter in front of him. He traced the image of our baby with his fingertip. "Do you think about him? About the color his hair will be or if he'll have your blue eyes?"

  "All the time," I admitted. "But he? You think it's a boy?"