22
Chloe
A big, warm hand settles on my nape, massaging away the tension permeating every muscle in my body. “Are you okay, zaychik?” he murmurs, the pale moonlight reflecting in his eyes as his other hand strokes up and down my arm. “Is the bad dream gone?”
I can’t find the words to respond. The shock is like a million tiny needles stinging my skin, my inner thermostat flipping from hot to cold and back again.
Nikolai and I are in bed.
Together.
He’s holding me on his lap.
The thermostat dials up all the way to scorching, spiking my pulse and sending a dizzying spear of heat straight to my core. We’re all but naked—my pajama tank and shorts are beyond flimsy, and he must be wearing only shorts or briefs as well because I can feel his bare thighs against mine. His skin is rough with
