CHAPTER 313

CHAPTER 313
ALINA

I watched him go into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

I waited a few seconds, fingers already itching to touch him again—to feel him, hold him, finish what that kiss had started. The longer I sat there, the worse it got.

When I couldn’t bear it any longer, I shoved the covers aside and got out of bed.

I padded slowly across the room, bare feet quiet on the floor, and stopped with my fingers resting on the doorknob.

I hesitated.

Rogers had given me the okay yesterday. I was allowed to walk around freely. Modified bed rest was over. I could move. I could stretch. I could, in theory, do a lot more than sit propped up against pillows looking decorative.

But Alexander was still treating me like I might shatter if I stood up too quickly. Still hovering. Still cautious to the point of absurdity. Still acting like the medical clearance had been a polite suggestion instead of an actual professional opinion.

The man had listened to the doctor, nodded, and then promptly decided his own personal version of “caution” involved wrapping me in metaphorical bubble wrap and gluing me to the mattress.

I rolled my eyes at the closed door.
Of course he was being like this.
Of course the same man who could dismantle a threat without blinking turned into an overprotective wall the second it came to me getting out of bed for thirty seconds.

My hand stayed on the knob.
I could turn around, climb back under the covers, and wait like a well-behaved patient slash wife.

Or I could open the door.
Of course I opened the door.

His back was to me when I walked inside.
I stopped short. Alexander stood under the spray, one hand braced hard against the tile, the other wrapped around his cock, stroking himself in rough, deliberate pulls.

Water ran down the broad planes of his back and over the tense muscles of his ass.

And he was saying my name—low, rough, like a curse and a prayer at the same time.

“Wife—”

It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.
Heat slammed through me so fast my knees nearly gave out.

My mouth went dry. Between my legs I felt myself get instantly, shamelessly wet, a sharp pulse of need that made me press my thighs together just to stay upright.

I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away. Every stroke of his hand, every tight flex of his forearm, every broken way he said my name while he chased his own release was burned straight into my brain.

I stood there in the doorway, breathing too fast, already aching for him, and for one long second I forgot every single reason I was supposed to be careful.

And because I couldn’t resist the sarcasm—
“Going it alone without me? You’re no fun.”

His head snapped up so fast I almost winced for him. Every muscle in his body locked tight under the water. I could see the exact moment panic and arousal collided across his face.

“You have a perfectly good wife standing right outside this shower,” I added, “and somehow you still chose the solo option.”

“Jesus Christ Wife...Go back to bed, wife.”

Yeah. Right. Like I was going anywhere.

That was like asking a woman who’d been starving for weeks to politely walk away from the buffet and stay hungry.

I removed my dress and let it drop to the floor.
My eyes moved to his discarded shirt. Black, the same colour he always wore. I licked my lips when I saw the wet patches. I couldn’t see the colour clearly, but I knew it was blood. Santos’s blood. No doubt.

My heart stuttered at the sight, then my gaze returned to the man in front of me.

I should have been disgusted.
I wasn’t.

Alexander Dimitri was the man I loved. Whether he was a monster, a heartless killer, or my sweet lover, I loved every side of him. Every side was what made him Alexander.

He finally registered that I was actually undressing.

“Fuck, wife—what are you doing?” His voice came out rough, strained.

I met his eyes through the glass and arched a brow.

“Rogers cleared me to walk around yesterday. You’re the only one still treating me like I’m made of glass. And right now I’d rather be in here with you than lying in that bed alone.”

Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside the shower.

Alexander immediately turned his back to me, shoulders tightening.

Cute. Like turning around was going to put me off.
Not a fucking chance.

The water was freezing. I quickly turned the tap toward warm, and the spray shifted from punishing to almost comfortable.

My hand came to rest against his cold skin. I stepped closer until my front brushed his back, the contrast of his chilled body and the warming water sending a shiver through me.

He was still half-hard. I could feel it.
“Wife.” My name left him like a warning and a plea at the same time. “We can’t.”

I rested my forehead between his shoulder blades for a second, breathing him in—soap, water, and the unmistakable scent of him underneath.

“I know what Rogers said,” I murmured against his skin. “I’m not asking you to throw me against the wall and fuck me hard.”

I smiled against his back.
“Not today, anyway.”

"Fuck..wife.."

I pressed a soft kiss to the ridge of his spine, then another, feeling the way his muscles jumped under my mouth.

His breathing had gone uneven. The water poured over both of us now, warm enough that the earlier cold was only a memory on his skin.

Slowly, carefully, as if every movement cost him, Alexander turned until he was fully facing me. Water ran down the hard lines of his chest and stomach.

His eyes were dark when they met mine—conflicted, hungry, and barely holding the line. One of his hands came up to cup the side of my neck, thumb brushing my jaw like he still couldn’t decide whether to pull me closer or set me firmly away.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, but there was almost no fight left in the words.

“I am resting,” I answered. “I’m just doing it vertically. And closer to you.”

A low, broken sound escaped him.

“Amazing. You’ve somehow turned medical bed rest into a loophole.”

I smiled slowly, letting my eyes drift over him with deliberate appreciation.

“Maybe. But if the loophole involves getting closer to my husband, I’m suddenly very interested in breaking the rules.”

“You were never very good at following rules, were you, wife? Fuck, that’s what I both hate and love about you.”

“See? This is why we’re perfect for each other. You break enemies. I break rules. You knew exactly what you were getting into when you put a ring on this particular menace.”

A low laugh rumbled from his chest.
“Oh, I knew exactly what I was getting into, wife.” His eyes gleamed with reluctant amusement.

“I just severely underestimated the amount of trouble one tiny menace could cause.”

He shook his head, still smiling.
“But you’re right. I break enemies. You break rules.” His gaze softened. “Fuck, we really are perfect for each other.”

A slow, wicked curve touched his mouth as he stepped a fraction closer.

“I’ve made dangerous men drop to their knees,” he murmured. “And somehow, here you are, bringing me to fucking mine.”

Without another word, I palmed his cheeks and peppered his face with soft, deliberate kisses.

Each one was a quiet declaration. I didn’t need words. I just held him and loved him with my touch. Rising onto my toes, I kissed his closed eyelids, then the centre of his forehead.

Alexander’s hands flexed at my waist.

“You’re playing unfair,” he said, voice low and strained. “I’m trying very hard to be the responsible one here.”

I smiled against his skin and kept going, trailing light kisses along his jaw while my hands slid down to rest over his chest, feeling the hard muscle and the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms.

“Responsible is overrated,” I murmured. “Besides, I’m only kissing you. If that’s enough to break your legendary self-control, that’s really more of a you problem than a me problem.”

He released a shaky breath. His shoulders slumped in what looked a lot like defeat.

I wrapped my arms around him properly and hugged him tight.

“I missed you, Alexander,” I whispered against his shoulder. It was the simple truth.

My fingers moved slowly over his skin as he hugged me back, arms banding around me so tightly it almost stole my breath.

His chest rose and fell in a heavy exhale as he crushed me closer. I felt his lips brush the shell of my ear.

“I love you, wife,” he whispered, rough and intense. “I love you so fucking much.”

His eyes were even darker up close, the struggle written plainly across his face.

His jaw was locked so tight I could see the muscle ticking. Every line of his body radiated tension—shoulders rigid, chest rising too fast, the hands at my waist gripping like he was physically holding himself back from taking more.

“But you need to get out of here,” he said, the words strained, almost gritted out. They sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

“No strenuous activity. Remember? Because if I lose control right now there will be a lot more than strenuous activity. I’m going to fucking break you, Alina. And I don’t want to hurt you. Or the baby.”

I could feel how hard he was fighting it. The fine tremor in his fingers against my skin.

The way his cock, still half-hard between us, twitched every time I shifted even slightly.

The uneven drag of his breath. He wanted this—wanted me—so badly it was written in every tight line of his body, and he was still forcing himself to hold the line.

“What if I want you to lose control?”

A broken sound left him—half groan, half curse. His eyes squeezed shut for a second like my words had landed like a direct hit. When he opened them again they were almost black with restraint and hunger.

“Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t fucking say that. You have no idea how close I already am. I’ve been hard for you weeks. I’ve been thinking about you every fucking minute. And now you’re standing here wet and soft and telling me you want me to lose it—” He broke off, breathing hard, forehead nearly dropping against mine.

“I’m trying, Wife. I’m trying so goddamn hard to be careful with you. Don’t make it harder.”

I didn’t give him time to rebuild the wall.
I closed the last inch between us and kissed him.

It felt like fireworks—slow and deep at first, our mouths moving together like we were relearning each other. Alexander groaned against my lips, the sound raw and almost pained, and deepened the kiss like he couldn’t stop himself.

He angled my head to the side and nipped lightly at my lower lip, then soothed it with his tongue. My fingers slid into his wet hair and pulled him closer. I poured everything I felt into it—the missing him, the relief, the stubborn love that refused to be careful even when he was trying so hard to be.

His hands flexed hard at my waist. For a moment they tightened like he was about to drag me flush against him and take everything he wanted. Then he forced them to stay where they were—firm, controlled, still holding back even as his mouth moved over mine with growing hunger.

Under the warm spray, with his body trembling slightly under my hands from the effort of restraint, I kissed my husband with everything I had. And I felt every second of how much it was costing him not to give in completely.