Mika was, in a word, enjoying himself.
Usually, Maria was like a cat, a beautiful, sleek predator who kept her distance. She would allow him near, but only on her terms, and was far more likely to scratch him with her sharp, cutting words than to seek any kind of comfort.
But then there were moments like this. Rare, precious moments when the aloof cat would suddenly decide she wanted to be cuddly, shedding her prickly exterior to curl up against him without a hint of hesitation.
He didn't understand the mood swings that governed her, not in the slightest, but he certainly didn't mind them.
Especially not now. He was acutely aware of the soft press of her breasts against his side, a gentle weight that shifted with the steady rhythm of her breathing.
The faint, floral scent from Yelena's shampoo that she'd complained about was now just a subtle note mixed with her own, a combination he found unexpectedly pleasant. He was in a happy situation, a very happy situation indeed.
