Married By Christmas: His Pregnant Christmas Bride / Carter Bravo's Christmas Bride

Then she looked down on his promise of endless pleasure lying thick and long and heavy against his chiseled abdomen and nothing mattered but having him inside her.

She tried to wrap her legs around him in silent supplication, but he subdued her with extreme gentleness, wrapped his arms around her instead, letting every inch of his flesh imprint hers.

His lips flowed over her from neck to cheek, his whisper hot and soft against her prickling skin. “Let yourself take what I need to give you, dorogoya moya. Let go.”

When she finally did, sank into his being and giving, the one thing left in her mind was that he was the only man who had ever made her feel this incredible, this protected and cherished. This man alone had the power to revive her. Or finish her.

* * *

Warm, wonderful sensations coasted over Anastasia, making her surface slowly from oblivion. Her eyes cracked open to light peeking between blackout curtains. Blinking, she expected to see herself back in her hospital suite.

In the next second it all came back to her. Everything that had happened since she’d come running home to see Ivan. Ivan, who was still stretched out against her, drenching her in caresses.

But maybe it had all been a dream, and still was. She’d seen and felt him like this on countless nights. And each time she’d woken up empty and alone.

“I’m here.” As if he’d heard her unspoken question, he reassured her of his presence. He smoothed the hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear, the heartbreaking tenderness in his caress twisting her heart, spiking desire in her loins.

He’d taken her to bed at sunset. With the sun out again, she’d slept for at least twelve hours. Which might mean that...

He again completed her thought for her. “Your parents came to check on you. They were more than surprised to find me in bed with you.” At her embarrassed gasp, something she hadn’t seen since he’d come back played on his lips—the tiniest of smiles. “Don’t worry, I’d already made us...decent.”

It was only then she realized she was in a nightgown, her favorite one, a deep burgundy silk that felt like a second skin. He’d somehow picked it out of all her sleepwear and put her in it while she slept. He was fully dressed again.

“Did they...?”

“They just asked if you were okay. I assured them you were, and your mother insisted I have something to eat.”

“Yeah, that’s my mom for you. Though she is a scientist, the cure to everything in her opinion is a good meal.”

“I ended up accepting tea and a huge slice of delicious homemade apple pie. She served them to me right here.”

Her cheeks flamed as she imagined that scenario. With her being a recluse, her parents had never had to deal with any man in her life. Her liaison with Ivan had been a secret, even from Alex. It had been the one thing she hadn’t confided in him. And just as she’d thought it time to do so, Ivan had disappeared.

There’d been no one else since. It had been the main reason she’d never moved out of the family home. She’d had no personal life that she’d wanted privacy for.

Suddenly the indulgent gleam in his eyes dimmed, tension replacing it as he got out of bed.

He was going to say goodbye now.

She sat up, her heart suddenly thudding so hard she felt it rattling her whole body.

He looked breathtaking yet haggard. Longing almost stopped her pounding heart as his heavy-lidded gaze raked her, filled with disturbed and disturbing emotions. And she realized.

He didn’t know how to say goodbye.

But neither did she. She couldn’t say it. She needed him. In whatever way she could have him.

Not knowing how to tell him that, she rose on stiff legs, tried to postpone the inevitable. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep all this time. And it doesn’t seem you’ve had any sleep.”

His jaw clenched. “Anastasia, we need to talk.”

She groped for lightness, even though she was going to pieces. “That sounds ominous.”

He clenched his fists, unclenched them. Then he squared his shoulders and stood straighter, as if he was readying himself for a frontal assault. “I tried, Anastasia. Tried to leave you alone, so you can restart your life. But you can’t start again. Not yet. And I—I can’t leave you.”

Her heart did stop this time. Then it stumbled into a gallop of brutal anticipation. Did he mean...?

His next words ended all speculation. “Tell your family you need time to heal, which you do, and come with me.” Before elation took hold, he added, “Let me do all I can to heal you.”

The plummet from the heights of hope left her unable to breathe for long moments.

When she could finally draw breath, her voice was a rasp. “Is that what this is about? You feel responsible? Sorry for me? Guilty?”

He took an urgent step toward her, his eyes like emerald fire. “I sure as hell feel responsible. For your well-being. And I’m so sorry for what happened, I can barely breathe. And I feel so guilty it erodes my sanity. Guilty that I wasn’t good enough or fast enough to prevent it. I want you to come with me so I can take care of you to my obsessive heart’s content. But if you’re asking if that’s all, then no. I would want you with me without any of that. I’ve never stopped wanting you. I don’t think I ever can.”

Anastasia gaped up at him, this man she now needed more than life itself. Though he couldn’t want her nearly as much, she believed he did want her, as much as he was capable of.

And he was right. She couldn’t restart her life yet, couldn’t resume her research without Alex, couldn’t go back to the same place of work. He’d also been right to try to shield her from the world. It hurt even more being among her family now. And if there was anything she’d ever wanted, the one thing she’d been deprived of, it was being with Ivan.

His eyes seemed to seethe with anxiousness as he waited for her response. But before she gave it to him, she asked, “How long?”

“As long as it takes. As long as you want. Say yes.”

Was there really any other answer?

“Yes.”

His sharp inhalation said her acceptance took him by surprise. He’d actually expected her to refuse, or at least not to succumb right away.

“Don’t you want to know where I’ll take you?”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m with you. If you want me...”

He gathered her to him, and she felt a tremor in those hands that were powerful enough to crush monsters. “I don’t even have words for how much I do.”

She fitted into his burning body, felt hers ignite. “Then I’ll be with you, for as long as you do.”

Five (#u33fc248c-492a-5333-b0bf-5875baa1c127)

A frisson of unease slithered down Anastasia’s spine.

With a last look at her phone after she ended her latest call with her parents, who called almost every day, she exhaled.

It had been ten weeks to the day since she’d come with Ivan to Russia. And the ten-week mark didn’t have a fond correlation in her mind. Not when it came to Ivan. It had been exactly ten weeks into their first relationship that he’d suddenly ended things. Just days before Alex and Cathy’s wedding.

Not that she thought he was about to end it now. This time Ivan seemed bent on being with her, being there for her, for as long as she needed him. His constant dedication to her well-being seemed to be unlimited and unending. She had to continuously try to dial down his indulgence, pull him back from extravagant gestures. To generally convince him she no longer needed any special care.

And though he now let her do things for herself, and for both of them—cooking dinner had become her enthusiastic responsibility almost nightly—she kept learning what it meant to be with one of Russia’s, and the world’s, premier oligarchs.