But at least I can tune those thoughts out during sex. I can give in to his dominance and relinquish control for a while.
It’s different when he kisses my nose and eyelids and strokes my hair. It’s different when he lays me on his thigh, like now, with one hand resting on the middle of my chest and the other lost in my hair. There’s no sex involved and I don’t like how horrifyingly comfortable it feels.
Still, I don’t attempt to move.
I clear my throat. “When did you get here?”
He smiles even before his eyes meet mine. “About twenty minutes ago. Your snoring reached me from the elevator.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Christ. You should see your offended face.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“If you say so.” His fingers continue the same soothing rhythm in my hair, lulling me back toward sleep.
“Are you okay?”
He slides his other hand from my chest to wrap it around my neck. “I am now.”
“You lied about being hurt?” I ask with a ball lodged in my throat.
“I never said I was. I just mentioned that I was not okay.”
“You clearly are.”
“No, I’m not. I’m lonely without you, baby.”
I suppress a smile. “I thought you said you didn’t want to see, and I quote, ‘my fucking face.’”
“I lied. I always want to see your face.”
“I lied, too,” I whisper, then clear my throat. “Can you tell me why you beat up Creigh?”
“We thought he was sent by your fucking brother to burn down the mansion.”
“Creigh wouldn’t do that.”
“But Landon would?”
“Not personally, no. He likes to delegate his dirty work to others.”
“Not to Creighton?”
“I don’t think so?”
“You’re not even sure.”
“Not about that, but what I am sure about is that Creigh would not start a fire that would harm Annika. He cares about her. And I really hate it when you hurt my family members.”
“Hmm. I won’t hurt Creighton again if he doesn’t get in the way. Jeremy is injured and I wasn’t thinking straight.”
There it is again. That bond with Jeremy that makes me feel strangely hollow.
“You care about him that much?”
“Fuck yeah. He’s my best bro.” He smiles with nostalgia. “If it weren’t for him, I would’ve gotten myself killed a long time ago. He gets me, you know?”
I don’t, but I need to change the subject because this is starting to feel uncomfortable. “What happened tonight?”
“A small disturbance from the Serpents. Nothing to worry about.”
“They burned down your place. How is that nothing to worry about?”
“We’ll get back at them and pummel them to the ground.”
“Do you have to?”
“Of course. How else will they learn not to mess with us?”
“I’m sure there’s another way…”
“There’s no other way in the mafia. It’s either kill or be killed. Those little fuckers will one day lead the Bratva branches in Chicago and Boston, so they’re challenging us to gain ground. If we back down, we’ll look weak.”
Sometimes, I forget that he’s a mafia prince. One day, he’ll inherit his parents’ legacy and live a life that’s completely soaked in blood.
“Do you enjoy it?” I ask. “The violence and paybacks I mean.”
“Fuck yeah.” His eyes shine until it’s almost blinding. “I feel most like myself when I’m teaching some assholes a lesson or two.”
“Right.”
“Don’t worry, lotus flower, I won’t be violent with you. Except sexually, of course, since you love it.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckles and jerks his head in the telly’s direction. “So what are we watching? Seems dumb.”
“Agatha Christie is not dumb.”
“Who’s that? An ancient actress?”
“Nikolai, please tell me you know who Agatha Christie is.”
“Your godmother?”
“Crikey. Seriously? She’s a famous novelist.”
“Did she write any of the Marvel movies?”
“No.”
“DC?”
“Of course not.”
“Tarantino, then?”
“No.”
“Never heard of her.”
“You’re seriously an anomaly.”