Chapter 187 187

Chapter 187 187
Akim must think so, too, because he blushes from head to toe. He doesn’t get tongue-tied around anyone—anyone but her, that is.

Benjamin, ever the little people pleaser, politely takes Ashley’s mini muffin and Akim’s cookie from the spread in front of him.

“We tied!” Ashley is outraged.

I laugh. “You know what that means.”

“Your kid needs to be more decisive?”

I pucker up, blowing air kisses her way. “When you tie, you have to kiss.”

Ashley and Akim both turn to me, faces puckered in confusion.

“You know, the kissing cousins thing,” I remind them. “It’s a saying.”

Timofey leans in. “The phrase is, ‘A tie is worse than kissing your sister.’ I don’t think it’s a suggestion.”

“Oh… Well, whatever.” I wave my hand in the air. “Kiss and make up, anyway.”

Akim seems partially interested in the idea. He turns towards Ashley just as she throws a bag of gummy worms at me. “Akim and I are godparents. It would confuse the children if we kissed.”

I’ve known Ashley long enough to know when she’s playing hard to get. And boy oh boy, is she playing with Akim now.

The two of them have been dancing around each other for months. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they’ve secretly hooked up once or twice, but if they have, Ashley hasn’t breathed a word of it to me. Which is very unlike her.

“Nice try,” Timofey mutters out of the side of his mouth.

“They’ll get together one of these days and thank me.”

He kisses my temple. “You’re usually right about these kinds of things.”

I stroke my fingers through his hair. “I am, aren’t I?”

His blue eyes are molten, his gaze dripping over my skin like hot wax. God, I want him.

As the thought solidifies, Timofey turns away and stands up. “What’s the guest list look like, Akim?”

Maybe Ashley isn’t the only one playing hard to get, I think.

“The younger guys are hanging back to keep things running smoothly, but all of the older Vors will be there.”

Timofey raises his brows. “All of them?”

A knowing smile crosses Akim’s face. “A few will be arriving with very generous wedding gifts. It’s the start of what I expect to be a very long apology tour.”

Akim and Timofey seem to be speaking their own language, but I need it said plainly.

“So they all believe that Sergey is a traitorous piece of shit now?”

Akim snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”

“The DNA test proving Rodion was Sergey’s son helped a lot,” Timofey adds. “But convincing everyone he willingly worked with the Albanians to conspire against the Bratva was the last puzzle piece.”

I wrinkle my nose. “They’re okay with filicide, but working with the Albanians is where they draw the line? The Bratva life really is another world.”

“You’re not having second thoughts about marrying into it, are you?” Timofey is teasing, but there’s a subtle, underlying anxiety I’ve learned to pick up on. There’s a thread of truth beneath the question.

I stand up and wrap my arms around his waist. “Whatever world you’re living in, that’s where I want to be.”

Timofey brings my knuckles to his lips, pressing a long kiss there.

Ashley complains that we’re spoiling her appetite, but I barely hear her. My heart is beating too loud.

The kids are asleep and Ashley and Akim are hunched together watching some movie on her laptop. My heart is still racing.

Timofey is drawing circles on my thigh, his calloused finger smoothing new sensations into my skin while he reads.

We decided to wait until the wedding to have sex again. Given Samuil’s existence, everyone knows I’m no virgin. But I thought, since we already had to abstain for six weeks after Samuil was born, why not tack on two extra weeks?

“It will make it more exciting, won’t it?” I told him, a three-day-old baby laying on my chest.

What an idiot I was.

I’m not excited right now. I’m in agony.

Timofey is sitting next to me, all broad shoulders and muscular legs and chiseled jawbone, and we have hours to kill. Not to mention a full-sized bed and a couch in the private room two feet away.

Fantasies fill my mind as Timofey’s finger circles closer and closer to the inside of my leg. I try to bat them away, but why?

It’s my wedding day. If I want to get absolutely railed by my future husband before my wedding, why shouldn’t I? Everyone has told me repeatedly that this is my day, after all.

Before I can consider it anymore, I jump up.

Timofey’s hand falls away, and he glances up at me. Without a word, I grab his hand and walk into the aisle, pulling him with me.

“Why am I not surprised?” he chuckles, though I notice he doesn’t waste any time hurrying after me.

Samuil is asleep in his bassinet and Benjamin is asleep in the seat next to Ashley, his chubby fingers loosely wrapped around her index finger.

I have no regrets at all as I silently pull Timofey into the back room and close and lock the door.

Beyond the hum of the airplane, the room is silent. I lean back against the door and face Timofey. Some of my confidence fades in the face of how truly magnificent he is. Even in jeans and a plain long sleeved tee, he is devastating. How am I going to handle him in a tux? On an altar?

He smirks. “Did you wish to speak to me, Piper?”

“Are you going to be smug now?”

“Smug about what?” he asks, playing dumb.

I should turn around and leave him here alone. That would teach him.

But who am I kidding? I can’t walk away.

I meet his eyes “You know why damn well we’re here, Mr. Viktorov.”

“I know it must be important for you to tempt yourself like this, Ms. Quinn.” He looks around at the bed and the couch. “We only have a few hours left until the wedding, and I know how important it is for you that we wait until after we’re married to have sex. Walking into this room must be difficult for you.”

“Difficult for me?” I shake my head as I shrug out of my jacket. “No. It isn’t difficult for me. It is a little hot, though. Are you hot?”

Timofey is still smiling, but he’s watching my movements with suspicion now. “No. I’m not hot.”

“Really?” I fan my face and pull at the already low-cut neckline of my shirt. “I’m roasting.”

“Then say what you need to say so we can get out of this room.”

Is that a note of panic in my husband-to-be’s voice? It’s rare to see Timofey on the defensive. He’s used to controlling whatever narrative he’s a part of. But the last eight weeks have been painfully long for him, too.

He’s every bit as tempted as I am.

“I would, but I can’t think back here. It is so hot.” In one move, I grab the hem of my shirt and lift it over my head.

I just had a baby eight weeks ago, so I know I look different. My body is soft in new places and stretched in others. But based on the look on Timofey’s face, he doesn’t mind one bit.

His smile is gone now. His eyes are black holes of desire, raking over every inch of exposed skin. He grits his teeth. “Piper.”

“Yes?” I run a hand over my chest and lower, fiddling with the button of my high-waisted jeans until they pop open. “It’s so hot in here… I’m dripping.”

Timofey doesn’t miss the double entendre. His gaze slips lower. “What are you doing, Piper?”

I hook my fingers in the waist of my jeans and shimmy them over my hips. “I know you were playing dumb before, but this is getting ridiculous. You know what I’m doing, Timofey.”

“Then tell me.”

I kick my jeans off and stand in front of him in nothing but his favorite lacy green lingerie. Maybe this isn’t as spontaneous as I thought. I might have had a plan when I got dressed this morning.