I tighten my arms around her. “Back what, baby?”
“I’ve admired you for so long,” she says, shaking her head. “I only wanted attention from you. I never dreamed that my feelings…” She falters. “That you would want me, too.” She squeezes her eyes together and another tear rolls down her cheek, and when she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for what happened, Stefan. Do you believe me?”
I know then that I do believe her. How could I have ever doubted her?
“I do,” I tell her. “Forgive me, Taara.”
We needed this. I had to ask her forgiveness. I know now that I want Taara for my own, and we can’t move to that place until I’ve asked pardon.
For everything. Christ, for punishing her in front of my men, for humiliating her. For dragging her here and putting her in this position. I’ve been a class-A douchebag. What she said to me back in Atlanta was right. I’m the fucking pakhan. I didn’t have to do this.
“Of course, I forgive you,” she says. “I mean, I fucked up, too.”
“Shh, baby.” I won’t hear of it. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she’s innocent in this. My voice firms as I make up my mind. “We won’t speak of this again. What happened is in the past, and we’ll put that behind us now. We start right here. Right now. Understood?”
She smiles at me through her tears, so beautiful and sweet and nods. “Yes, daddy.” I’ll never get tired of hearing those words, of holding her like this, of kissing her tear-stained cheeks. That she grants me this privilege is a damn miracle I won’t forget.
And as I hold her to me, my arms wrapped around her as she sighs into my chest, I make a decision.
I will end whatever threat is posed against us here. I will take Taara back to Atlanta where she’s safe.
I know I love this woman. And because I do...she’s not coming to Russia with me.Chapter 12TaaraStefan has something on his mind. I don’t want to ruin this moment, with the two of us still lying together like this it feels sacred, stolen even. But it matters to me what he thinks. I need to know what concerns him.
My feelings for him are resurfacing. I know that now, and while a part of me yells warning in my head, I can’t help but want to let myself love him again. Can I go there?
“What is it, Stefan?” I ask, then I gentle my voice. “Daddy? Is something bothering you?”
I know it is by the way his gaze is distant and clouded, but when he looks back to me, he smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges, and he kisses my temple.
Predictably, he doesn’t answer the question but turns it back on me.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he says.
“No fair,” I respond. “That’s what I asked you.”
In response, he tugs a lock of my hair. “Who’s the daddy?”
Aw, hell, that really isn’t fair. “You,” I say. It’s like he pushes a button when he says that and I get all melty and submissive, which isn’t really me at all, but apparently is me when I’m with Stefan and he pulls the daddy card.
“It’s crazy how hot that is,” I tell him.
“Crazy?” he repeats, his lips quirking upward.
“Crazy,” I repeat.
But he only shrugs a shoulder. “Not sure why.”
“No?” I ask.
“And anyway, I like crazy,” he says. “So yeah, this is hot to me. Having you on me like this, all starry-eyed and disheveled…” He strokes his fingers through my hair, his voice rumbling and unhurried. “The way you came with my name on your lips. Your ass still hot to the touch and striped with my belt.” My heart thumps. “And yeah, baby. The way you call me daddy.”
He holds me to him wordlessly for a moment before he continues. “And I don’t need to ask why or how or what the hell this means. I just know that I like it.”
I rest my head on his chest. I guess his quiet reassurance is good enough for me, too.
“Now,” he says. “Where were we? You were telling me what’s on your mind. Where do you go when you get that distant look in your eyes?”
“I get a distant look in my eyes? Me? I was just thinking that about you.” Seems we’re both distracted.
He chuckles, ignoring my mention of him. “By my calculation, you’re somewhere in the Far East right about now.”
That makes me smile. “I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I go lots of places, I guess.”
“Tell me one,” he suggests. “It’ll be a good start.”
“You want to know what’s on my mind?” I clarify.
“Yes,” he says earnestly. “But more than that.” He smoothes his large hand over my elbow. “I want to know what’s on your heart. What you fear. What you hope for.”