Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(79)

But it still shrinks me.

I know I can never be like him, not to this extent. Some forms of confidence are natural, a gift that can’t be learned. Like Timo. Nikolai once told me that he couldn’t remember a time where Timo didn’t know who he was. No questioning. No doubt. But he said it didn’t make it easier.

Timo charged at life.

But life wasn’t always ready for him.

I’m not as envious as I used to be. I’m more satisfied with who I am. Thora James: a series of fails but she’ll stand up again.

I can most definitely live with that.

Nikolai tilts up my chin, and he studies my current clutch onto him. I study his wet hair, pushed out of his face. The water that rolls along his skin and drips off his lashes. It’s not the most profound case study, but it warms my chilled blood.

“God of Russia!”

“They’re calling for you,” I say. Step back, Thora. I will. Baby steps.

“I hear that.” And then he snaps off my glow necklace.

I flinch at the abrupt motion and notice his… “Nikolai…” He wears a green glow necklace. He’s been wearing that this whole time. I shuffle back from him, forgetting about my see-through dress. I just have to see him, it.

Red strobe lights still comb over the club, but for the first time in months, he’s declaring to everyone that he’s taken.

I’m smiling.

He’s not. Because his gaze rakes my body with conflicting expressions: arousal and concern. Maybe he’s worried that I’m leaping out of my box tonight. Maybe he’d rather push me than unforeseeable circumstances do it for him.

I wrap my arm around my boobs.

“God of Russia!” Hands are now shooting into the air.

But Nikolai ignores them, his intensity all mine. He approaches the burly employee, and they switch glow necklaces. When Nik returns to me, he has a green one.

“Awwww,” girls in the crowd actually make that noise, rooting for us.

His gaze never leaves me as he snaps the new necklace around my collar. “There’s no confusion anymore, myshka.”

I touch the necklace, wondering about his ex-girlfriend. I haven’t ever asked about her, but the deeper we go, the more I know I’ll have to.

I can’t move past that gaze, the one that strips layers with rapid efficiency. It’s even more intrusive than the first time we met. Because he knows for certain what lies beneath the sheet.

Then he kisses me soft, then harder, his tongue parting my lips. An ache tickles my throat, the drunken encouragements like a Greek chorus. Courage lifts my shoulders. It’s not from booze. It’s just from being near him.

His breath warms my ear. And he whispers, “I choose you.”

My heart pounds.

He breaks away, fingers laced with mine, and his long once-over heats my core…and a lower place, clenching.

The cheers are even louder than before. I look up and so many people have gathered. The sprinklers don’t shut off yet and everyone starts clapping to the beat of “Temperature” by Sean Paul, splashing water.

“They’re excited—” he watches me absorb my surroundings “—because I’ve never done this with a girlfriend before.”

Girlfriend. “I’m your girlfriend?” My smile is an uncontrollable one, where I can’t for the life of me restrain or hide it.

He says something in Russian.

I don’t have to wait for him to translate. He’s said this phrase so many times.

You’re cute.

I inhale strongly, a handstand competition. In a see-through dress. I can do this. I can. I know, for a fact, I can. However, I’m not sure if I’ll beat him. That’s the mystery.

Quickly I climb back over his earlier proclamation. He’s never done this with another girlfriend. He’s sharing this with me, his spectacle, his after-show—that’s all him.

He’s letting me experience his entire world.

“Can she even push you over!” someone shouts.

“Can you?” Nikolai asks me, his lips rising in an alluring smile.

I can try. I rest my palms on his chest, beads of water still rolling down. And I take a runner’s stance and I try, with all my might, to shove him back.

He’s a fortress.

A laughing fortress. “Try harder, myshka.”

“I am,” I retort, putting all my strength in my quads and biceps. My face reddens as I push, but I realize that he’s positioned his legs in a way that deadens my force. I breathe heavily and crane my neck up to him.

He’s way too entertained by this. “Little mouse,” he says. “You can’t knock me back, even if you tried.”

“Oooh!” The crowds collectively make the noise. I hear the jest that I missed the first time against him, all lighthearted.

I catch my breath, my hands on my hips. “One day. I will. Even if it takes me years.” Years? It sounds like I’m assuming we’ll be together for that long. I open my mouth to clarify my slip, but he speaks first.

“Even if it takes you forever,” he rephrases, his eyes bearing on my heart. “Are you ready?” He means for the handstand competition. But beneath his words there is so much more. Am I ready for a life with him?

“Yes.” I nod, without hesitation. “I’m more than ready.”