Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(93)

I’m in love with you.

I hope one day I can grow the courage to say the words out loud.



*



“How do you feel?” Nikolai asks me, the morning light streaming through my broken blinds. I lie on my stomach, my firm mattress beneath me. His hand drifts along my bare back, my teal sheet just barely covering my bottom.

How do I feel? I never even dreamed of sex like that, full of strength and emotions. Beyond the physical parts, I think our love for each other made it more intense.

But I can’t lie—it hurt when he pulled out. He knew it did. Afterwards he held me in his arms, caringly, until I fell asleep. And now… “Sore, mostly. I mean, not that much, but…” It’s hard to stretch my legs in a split without feeling pain.

I press my cheek on my pillow, my eyes meeting his. He’s on his side, his body propped by his arm.

“We’re not training today,” he tells me, “so you have time to rest.” In part, I think he wants to use some of today to help me find a job. I try to read his features, but he seems content, more at peace.

“How…was it for you?” I ask tentatively.

His lips rise. “Extraordinary.” He sits up and pulls me into his arms, kissing me now. “I’m waiting for you to catch your breath before we go again.”

My eyes widen. Again? I expect him to add, just kidding. Any time now…

He features lighten in a more charismatic smile. “You look frightened.”

“I’m not…I’m just…”

“Sore,” he states. “But I’ll take care of you, my demon.” He’s still wearing that charming smile.

I scowl. Though it makes me curious about a second time with him. And a third. Fourth, however many more there will be. Infinity plus, Thora. The nervous, excited flutters return. “What happened to resting?”

He tilts his head. “Training is more exhausting than sex.”

For him, maybe. My endurance has depleted since last night. And he barely exerts any effort to achieve what I do. He’s just built that way.

And I wonder… “Why do they call you the God of Russia?” Is it because of his skills in bed? I mean, they’re pretty godly. But that’s scary—that everyone would know that about him.

“It’s easier to do a lot of circus tricks being shorter; your center of gravity is lower. But you know this.”

I nod. Though, when paired, it’s a bit easier to do lifts if the guy outsizes the girl. So for aerial silk, there’s a small benefit to the size difference.

“In my extended family, only Dimitri comes close to my height. Most everyone is around Timofei’s size. He’s not short by any means, but it’s still easier.” He combs his fingers through my dirty-blonde hair, his eyes dancing over my features. “When I was young, they all thought I’d struggle with the harder tricks, the way that Dimitri did.”

“But you didn’t struggle,” I realize.

He nods. “I always found my balance.”

He’s naturally, supremely talented. Gifted beyond immeasurable doubt. It makes more sense, the jealousy between Dimitri and Nikolai. The competitiveness that derived as children. Always being compared. Nikolai always coming out on top. Strangely enough, I empathize more with his cousin on that account.

“My older brother, Sergei, jokingly called me the God of Russia. It catches on wherever I go because my cousins never stop using it. Mostly because they like how it infuriates Dimitri.” His gaze narrows by a degree.

And I recognize something else. Nikolai has never referred to the nickname, never acknowledged it or fed into it. “You hate it,” I say.

“I won’t put my cousin down to make myself feel better,” he says. “Dimitri is a lot of things that I dislike, but he’s also a lot of things that I love. It’s what makes him family.”

I smile, never expecting this answer from Nikolai. His humbleness attracts me, melts me. I think it would’ve been easy to grow up with a sense of entitlement, being that talented. But maybe his cousin’s struggles grounded him—made him appreciate what he has more.

“The way you look at me…” he breathes and shakes his head like there are no words to describe it.

“I’m not scowling, am I?”

His lips curve upward in another smile, and he draws me even closer. “No, myshka. The way you stare at me…it’s like…” His gray eyes light up. “It’s like you admire parts of me that no one else sees.” He collects my hand and presses it to his chest, to his heart, and the beat drums against my palm. Fast, quick, as though I’m overwhelming him.

My pulse begins to accelerate, matching his. I think about how when this all started, I envied him. And somewhere, I took a turn, and I no longer wanted what he has. He’s made me appreciate myself more, love myself more, and as a result, I’ve come to see him as more than just a great athlete, a charismatic performer.

Nikolai Kotova is the sum of his brothers and sister. And more.

He is selfless, loyal, dedicated and wholly determined—the most responsible twenty-six-year-old, the most mature man. He is power and strength. But most importantly, he is love. And family.

He kisses me again, his hand warming the back of my neck. “Whatever happens, just know that the parts of my life with you have been my favorite.”