He exhaled slowly, dread pooling in his stomach, and twisted around so he lay on his other side, so they faced one another. Heart pounding, he opened his eyes.
Nikita’s head rested on the pillow only a few inches away, gaze impossibly soft. The little groove so often pressed between his brows, a sign of tension and worry, was smooth, his expression relaxed, wide open in a way it never was.
Sasha wasn’t prepared for the raw, vulnerable look of him then, for the gentle steadiness of his stare, and he swallowed down the shocked little sound that tried to climb his throat.
“Are you alright?” Nikita asked, and even his voice was soft.
Sasha’s mouth was dry, and he had to wet his lips. Even then, his voice came out a croak. “Yes.”
“Did–” His brows tensed. “I didn’t hurt you, did–”
“No.” Sasha pressed his hand flat to Nik’s chest; felt the quick throb of his heartbeat, as unsteady as his own. “No, I’m fine. You didn’t–” His breath caught, and he bit at his lip.
They were at the precipice again. Still. They had been for a while, and probably even longer than that, Sasha thought. He wanted to leap across it, but if he didn’t land. If he fell…
Slowly, as if trying not to startle him, Nikita lifted his hand between them. And laid it, gentle as thistledown, on Sasha’s face. Cupped his jaw. Stroked his cheek with his thumb. “I think,” he said slowly, “that I’ve done a very bad job of showing you how precious you are to me.”
Sasha sucked in a breath.
Nikita tipped forward, bridged the gap between them, and pressed their foreheads together.
Another breath, almost a gasp. Sasha felt the sting of tears and shut his eyes, the warm touch of skin-to-skin an anchor.
“I’m sorry,” Nik whispered. His thumb swept back and forth, soothing. Grounding. “I’m so sorry. I can’t…” He sucked in his own unsteady breath, his whole body shuddering against Sasha’s. “You are everything to me. Everything.” Fierce. And then, uncertain: “I want to show you. If…you want. If you…”
“Yes.” Sasha angled his head, surged forward, and kissed him.
It had to be a terrible kiss. Sasha had no idea what he was doing, and just mashed their mouths together; too hard, too fast. Their teeth clicked.
A split-second where he panicked. What if he shouldn’t have? What if Nik hadn’t meant–?
But then he felt Nikita’s lips curve against his own. A smile.
Nik pulled back a fraction, just far enough to ease the pressure – but he didn’t break contact. His hand slid down so it cupped the side of Sasha’s throat, and he kissed back. Gentle, skillful, coaxing. With the kind of finesse Sasha wanted to have, but had been too overcome to attempt.
Sasha sucked in a breath through his nose, still now, feeling Nikita’s lips move delicately against his own.
It was happening. He’d imagined it – sometimes, when he hadn’t dashed his own hopes out of fear. But to live it now – the soft flick of the very tip of Nik’s tongue against his closed lips – defied all imagination. Was he dreaming? Had he hit his head?
Nik retreated a little farther, just enough to whisper, “It’s better to go slow at first,” hint of a laugh in his voice. Then he pressed back in for a slow, thorough kiss that left Sasha clutching at him, mouth opening in complete, helpless offering.
Nik hummed a pleased little sound. He tilted his head, deepening the angle. Pushed up on his elbow for better leverage, his hand sliding down Sasha’s throat, over his collarbone, to his chest.
He finally pulled back, and Sasha whined a protest, eyes opening. He wasn’t ready for the sight of Nik braced above him: the blown pupils, and the wet, soft mouth, and the way he looked absolutely ravenous. A hunger that was largely anguish, like a bruise that wanted to be pressed on.
“Sasha,” he said, voice in tatters. “Baby.”
His phone rang.
The familiar, innocuous iPhone chime froze the moment. They stared at one another, both fighting for breath, chests heaving.
The phone stopped.
And then rang again.
Nikita growled savagely, and rolled away, reaching for the nightstand.
Sasha dropped his forearm over his eyes and blew out a breath. Baby. The word echoed like the tolling of a bell in his head.
“What?” Nik snarled.
Sasha could hear Trina on the other end of the line, taken aback. “Good morning to you, too.”
He growled again, an awful, aggressive, open-mouthed sound.
Sasha rolled onto his side, and laid a hand on the small of his back.
The growl choked off, a low, unhappy rumble, but not as openly hostile. “What do you want?” he asked, half-civil.
A pause. Trina said, “Did you go by the morgue last night?”
Nikita panted a moment; reached with his free hand to push his hair off his forehead. “Yeah,” he said, and the growl finally died away completely.
“Lanny said he caught a familiar scent.”
“Yeah. Us, too. We should…” He sighed. “We should meet up.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Trina said, brisk and busy. “Diner in a half hour? I’ll call Jamie and Alexei.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
If she heard the defeated note in his voice, the one that had Sasha rubbing soothing little circles into his back, she didn’t let on. “Great. See you then.”
The call disconnected.
Nikita tossed the phone on the bed and they sat there a moment, just breathing. “We should go,” he said at last.
Sasha sat up. “Yeah.” He slid out of bed and was rounding the end of it, heading for the door–
When Nikita caught his hand, and tugged it gently. He glanced up, and met Nik’s regretful look.
“Later,” he said, firmly. “Later, Sasha. I promise.”
Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He’d waited this long; he could definitely wait for later.
~*~
“Pass me the ketchup?” Lanny asked, holding out his hand.
Trina slid it along with a snort of disgust.
“Hey, half of America puts ketchup on their eggs.”
“But…so much of it?” Jamie asked, brows lifted skeptically.
“You’re disgusting,” Alexei said with undisguised delight.
“You guys are just jealous,” Lanny said, and shook an obscene amount of ketchup over perfectly good scrambled eggs.
“Of what?” Jamie wanted to know.
Trina checked the time on her phone, and not for the first time wished she wasn’t the only woman in their strange little group. She loved Lanny, and Nik, and Sasha, was starting to love Jamie, and she didn’t hate Alexei. But being the only girl in the boy’s club was getting old.
As was being the only human.
“Where are they?” she wondered aloud. Sasha tended toward punctual, if not early, and always managed to drag Nikita along with him. But they were fifteen minutes late, today.
“Hey,” Lanny said, after he’d already shoveled ketchupy eggs into his mouth. “Maybe my little nudge helped and they’re…” He waggled his brows.
“For the love of God, close your mouth,” Jamie said, turning toward the window with a grimace.