Page 88 of Beautiful Forever
Syn with her fire, and Aleks’s command of it. And I don’t give one goddamn what it says about me, but it’s fucking hot to watch. They’ve been circling each other for a while, so if they need to beat the shit out of one another in order to break down those walls of denial, I’m all for it. Besides, I know Aleksander won’t hurt her. Syn, on the other hand…
She drives her knee up, but he traps it between his thighs before she can reduce him into a soprano. Not deterred, she brings her forearm under his chin, but he’s able to redirect it and pin it behind her back, pulling her tightly to him with more force than finesse.
For a moment, they freeze in place, their heavy breaths stirring the air. And then a smile spreads across her face right before she arches back and uses her free leg to kick out his foot, toppling them both to the floor. Curling himself protectively around her, he’s able to flip their positions before they land in a tangle on the parlor rug.
Straddling his chest, she lifts up and sits back against his bent knees. “You’re an ass.”
“I know.”
“I’m really mad at you.”
He smooths a hand down the waterfall of her hair. “I know.”
From the entryway, Dierdre stops short when she sees Syn on top of Aleks on the floor. My sister made it very clear early on how she felt about Syn being with me and the guys. She’s chilled out a lot since the wedding, but the real turning point was when Fénix was born, and she became a grandma. But from the slow narrowing of her eyes, she’s putting two and two together and isn’t happy about it.
“I wouldn’t ask,” I tell her. Walking over, I lift Syn and heft her over my shoulder. “Hate for this visit to be cut short, but after lunch, we’re going to need to head home.”
Aleksander gets to his feet and moves the chair back into place. “What?” he asks when Dierdre scowls at him.
“Do not engage,” I caution him.
Squirming, Syn protests as I carry her out. “Will everyone stop carting me around like a sack of potatoes? You’re as bad as Hendrix.”
“It’s your fault, Red. Seeing you fight makes me all caveman.”
Pyotr suddenly appears, balancing a taco on a plate. “What did I miss?”
“Syn and Aleks went at it.”
His look of utter dejection pulls a chuckle out of me.
“What are you doing?” Syn asks when I head straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I slide my palm over the round curve of her delicious ass. “Going to show my wife just how caveman I can be.”
She stops wriggling.
Thirty-Eight
November 24
I trymy best to ignore the broody stare of the gray-eyed Russian sitting at the back corner table as I wait at the bar for Keith to finish making pink mocktails for two women who just came in. With the start of Thanksgiving break and most of the students gone, business is slow. It seems like forever since I worked a shift at the Bierkeller, but I was ready to get back to my “normal” routine.
Ineednormal.
And Aleksander with his intense energy and imploring eyes isn’t helping me achieve that.
It’s been weeks, and I’m still livid. I know I’m being immature by ignoring him, but he’s being just as immature by stalking me. He blatantly follows me around, making sure I see him. Every-fucking-where I go, he pops up. In class. At the grocery store. At home. When I go for a run. When I take Fénix to the park. And now here at work. And the guys aren’t helping.
Tristan and Aleksander have been joined at the hip since Boston. Constantine made the ridiculous excuse that Aleksander was helping him with his coding project and asks him to come over all the fucking time. And Hendrix…apparently, he and Aleksander are best buds now. And I hate admitting that seeing them together, laughing and talking or just hanging out, makes me insanely happy. But my insides turn to absolute mush when I see how Aleksander is with Fénix. He loves on my child as if Fénix was his own son. And that, right there, is the truest form of emotional blackmail to my conflicted heart.
While waiting, I check my phone for any new messages and smile when I see the photos Constantine texted me. Tristan is fast asleep on the sofa, holding a sleeping Fénix in his arms.
“Oh my god, that’s adorable.” Shelby drops her tray onto the bar top.
I swipe to the next picture, and we burst out laughing when we see Hendrix drawing a rudimentary penis on Tristan’s forehead with a marker.
Mentally facepalming at his juvenile antics, I tuck my phone away. “He’s been in a weird phase where he draws dicks on everything.”
