“While we were out, I had some things delivered,” Dmitri said over dinner.

We were enjoying apricot-basil chicken salad and heated croissants out on the pool deck. He’d opened a bottle of yummy wine, mainly for my consumption.

The sea breezes were easy and warm, that saltwater scent getting into my blood. “What things?” He was getting into my blood. I sighed when the wind ruffled his hair and his unbuttoned white linen shirt. He wore broken-in jeans and was barefooted. I loved this casual side to him.

“Some wedding gifts.”

“From you?” I gazed around at the house he wanted to call ours. “You haven’t done enough?”

“Not until I’ve given you the entire world, as promised.” In a teasing tone, he said, “I warned you I would spoil you to an embarrassing degree, yet you decided to be my bride anyway? Take your medicine, Vika.”

I grinned. “Dmitri, I hadn’t expected you to be this fun.”

He blinked at me. “I hadn’t expected anyone to consider me so. I have little experience with it.”

Money truly couldn’t buy happiness. “Today you had fun, right?”

After kayaking, we’d swum laps—or tried to—but we’d gravitated to each other in the water. I’d given him a slow hand job while he’d done more mind-blowing things with his fingers. Then we’d snacked and lazed naked in the late-afternoon sun.

Once we’d returned inside, we’d christened our large shower. I could swear the bench in the enclosure had been designed just for me to sit and suckle him. Not to be outdone, he’d lifted me to a high marble shelf, one seemingly made for me to relax back and spread for his kiss.

Fresh from coming in my mouth, he’d devoured me—and shown me a trick I could barely believe. . . .

“This has been the best day of my life,” he said. “Each day with you easily trumps all others.”

They had been great, but surely he’d had others make the podium. “No wonderful days from your childhood?”

Looking away, he said, “Not one that stands out.”

“What was growing up in Siberia like?”

That muscle in his jaw ticked. “Cold, brutal, miserable.”

Okay . . . “The weather? Or growing up?”

“Take your pick,” he bit out, his demeanor telling me to back off.

I would. I could give him time, because his wounds were still healing—as part of the process. Besides, the less I dug into his past, the less he’d dig into mine. I changed the subject. “What do you usually do in your free time?”

“I haven’t had any,” he said, his tone softer, as if he appreciated the reprieve. “I’ve worked diligently on self-improvement.”

I cast him a smile. “You and your changes.”

“I needed to be ready when my dream woman came into my life.”

Smile never faltering, I said, “Can you really call me your dream woman when you hardly know me?”

“I know plenty, Victoria.”

I raised my brows. “Like what?”

“I have to pace you during oral sex, or else you come too fast. When you truly open your heart to another, you do so for life, and you’re loyal to a fault. You’re patient. You’re protective. You’re secretive. But I know you’ll share all your secrets if I share mine. Your zest for life is boundless. And when your blue eyes brighten with happiness, I feel as if I’ve been drugged. To a man like me, you are a drug.”

My lips parted.

Then I gazed away, thinking about my past. I could see now I hadn’t truly opened myself up to Brett. If I had, I wouldn’t be this over him. I knew I’d never receive another e-mail from him, and the only emotion I felt was regret that he’d been hurt.

Nothing more.

Maybe I’d tried to force that relationship because I’d been so enamored with normal. Maybe I’d held back my heart because deep down I’d known I was meant for a grifter.

So where did that leave me now? I was married to a gull, living the most abnormal existence I could imagine. “Wouldn’t your dream woman be heavy into BDSM?” I asked. “To match you?”

“Oh, you will be,” he assured me, his tone making me shiver. “Already you are an incredibly responsive and giving submissive.”

I didn’t know if I liked that word. Even if I loved to submit. “Have you been with a lot of submissives?”

“No. None that I know of.”

I frowned. “Shouldn’t you have tried out some others before you got married? What if you want, or need, to explore this with someone else?” Most men cheated—the nature of the beast, and all that—with far less reason.

“It’s taken me my whole life to find you. I will neither want nor need another.” God, he sounded confident. Smug, even. Like I might sound if I’d won the World Series of Poker. “Understand me, I will never be unfaithful to you. My wife deserves a devoted husband.” He believed what he was saying.

The way he talked reminded me of the shining devotion exhibited by his brothers. If Dmitri had been cut from the same cloth, maybe he wouldn’t cheat.

He might be the type of guy who went to Vegas with buddies and proudly kept his ring on.

But how could I ever trust that? My hurdles are too high. And in the end, the point was moot anyway.

With all the lies I’d told him?

“Why didn’t you have a lover already?” I asked, only to recall his behavior with babes like Sharon. “Actually, strike that question. Why did you chase women away?”