“Better than anyone else would,” Salt murmured. “Well, since now you know…” He dropped the t-shirt he’d been holding on the couch. “I will sleep without. Is too hot for shirt anyway.”
“I don’t think so.” I shivered. “I’m freezing and I just now realized I didn’t bring any pajamas.”
“This is no problem. Look in the bedroom—some have been left for you.”
I went in and found a set of pajamas that were just my size hanging over the back of the oversized rocking chair. The only problem was that they were covered in…
“My Little Pony?” I tweezed the pjs between my thumb and finger and held them up in disgust. “Honestly, where did they even find these in an adult size?”
“They probably didn’t. You are no bigger than a large child, you know,” Salt said, coming up behind me. His face was serious but his pale blue eyes were dancing and I knew he was making fun of me.
“Ha-ha,” I said dryly. “Very, funny Salt but I’m not wearing these.” I dropped the pajamas covered in pastel ponies on the floor. “I’d rather sleep in the nude.”
“As we are supposed to be sharing a bed, I do not think that would be a good idea,” Salt growled softly. “There is only so much I can take, Andi.”
I bit my lip and looked up at him. There it was again—the veiled admission that he found me sexually attractive. Honestly, seeing him standing there with his broad, bare, muscular chest and that light in his ice blue eyes, I had to admit I was feeling the heat too. There was no denying that my partner was damn sexy—attractive in a way I’d never let myself notice before.
But I wasn’t ready to go there with Salt. Going there would foul up our entire relationship, I told myself. We were already getting in too deep—admitting pains from our respective pasts that we had long kept buried. It was better to try and get things back on an even keel.
So I picked up the pajamas and waved them at him flirtatiously.
“All right, Papa—mishka will wear her PJs,” I said in my best little girl voice. “No need to get upset.”
Salt’s face, which had been filled with tension, relaxed and he barked a laugh.
“All right my little mishka. Run get dressed and Papa will read you a bedtime story and tuck you in.”
I went back to the bathroom to change, glad to have averted the sexual tension between us. When I came back, Salt was sitting on the left side of the bed closest to the door. He had turned off the overhead lights and the room was lit only by the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp.
He patted the right side of the bed beside him.
“Come, mishka,” he said softly. “Let Papa tuck you in.”
It felt a little weird that we were still doing the Papa/mishka thing but I reasoned that anything that helped defuse the tension was worth a little weirdness.
“Okay, Papa,” I chirped and went to sit beside him.
Salt actually got up and pulled back the covers for me. Then he tucked me in and settled back beside me. This time I saw that he had a large, brightly colored book in his big hands.
“What’s that? Light reading?” I asked.
“Fairy tales,” he said simply. “Russian fairy tales, actually written in Russian. Someone was very thoughtful.”
“It’s a personal touch to make you feel happy here. The happier you are, the longer you’ll stay and the more money you’ll spend,” I predicted. “Or else they want to be sure you really speak Russian and you’re not just putting on an accent.”
“How cynical you are, my little mishka.” Salt made a tsking sound and shook his head.
“Just realistic. Read one to me.” I yawned and snuggled deeper into the covers. Salt’s big body was radiating heat against my side and I was beginning to feel pleasantly warm and drowsy.
His eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Truly? You want a bedtime story?”
“Why not…Papa?” I smiled at him. “I used to love bedtime stories when I was a kid.” I frowned. “Of course, my dad was the only one who read them to me. That’s weird—I forgot about that until just now.”