I watched the gentle sway of her hips back and forth as she departed to her room to change for dinner. Her bravado was impressive, but I could tell she was still tense from the conversation we'd just had.

I dressed myself again, checked the time. Natalia had been a fast dresser, but Petra was not. Some men were irritated when their wives spent excessive time getting ready. I gloried in it. I had been the one to introduce her to luxury, after all.

Nearly seven years ago in Prague, I saw her as I was walking down the street. She was distractingly beautiful, pale skinned with enormous blue eyes and blonde hair that glittered in the sun. I found myself stopping to look at her, and then she lifted her bow. Whatever piece she was performing spoke to me in a way that music never had. It was strong yet sorrowful and she looked raw, completely exposed playing it.

Kindred spirits. It popped into my head, unbidden. I stayed on the fringe, watching her from a distance. At one point an older woman looked at her pointedly, she nodded, and her next song was lively and upbeat. Slowly a smile crept across her face, and my heart constricted. I would do anything for that smile, that music. She was perfect.

I was in love.

I was gone the following month with work, negotiating a small smuggling deal in Germany, but I couldn't get her out of my head. Her eyes, her smile. I tried to reason with myself. She could be rude. She could be stupid. Worst of all, she could be complacent. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make myself believe it.

I went back to see her upon my return, almost convinced I was imagining how wonderful she had been. Surrounded by snow, she looked like an angel. She played beautifully, as she had before. For one moment at the end of her set, her eyes briefly met mine. The connection was instant, impossible to describe. I was no one to her, but she was suddenly everything to me. I needed her.

The next day I gave her the violin. It cost a small fortune, but it was worth it. As she looked at it, as she ran her fingers across its gleaming surface, I could see her longing. I could see the covetousness burning inside her like it burned in me. She wasn't complacent. Her eyes flicked to mine, questioning.

"It's for you. You play beautifully." At first she looked distrustful. She was smart. Then she thanked me. She wasn't rude. That day her mother ushered her away. But I was there again the next day, and the next. Sometimes to talk with her, sometimes just to watch her play her first luxury item, a gift from me.

One Hour Earlier

I opened the door and stepped inside, nibbling at another roll from my bag. I must have come in quietly because Milos didn't move, didn't look up from the page he was intently reading. He was very handsome. Clean shaven, hair nearly combed, wearing a navy button down with a gunmetal grey suit. One ankle rested on his opposite knee, and he licked his thumb to turn a stubborn page of the thick volume on his lap.

He seemed to read a lot now.

Slowly he grinned, putting a bookmark between the pages and snapping it shut. "How was your crazy bride?" He asked.

Maybe he had heard me come in. I sat down next to him on the couch. "Crazy. Really crazy. She spent forty five minutes talking about rhinestone placement."

"Rhinestone?" Milos wrinkled his nose, then pulled my legs onto his lap. "Like fake diamonds? I don't understand."

I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding as he started to gently massage my calves. "She wants them, and I'm quoting, 'artfully scattered' over her tables. The decorator is threatening to strike. How was your day?"

He let out a deep chuckle. "I'm making appointments to sell parts of my portfolio, as we discussed. Arranged dinner."

When it came to work, he did keep his cards close to his chest. No mention of the shouting match I'd overheard. My eyes flicked to the book on the coffee table. "What are you reading?"

He grinned, his hands creeping higher as he massaged. "The Canterbury Tales. I like it. It relaxes me."

A small smile crossed my lips as his hands brushed my miniscule panties. "What else relaxes you?" I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Our faces closed in on one another, our noses touched. My eyes were drawn to his, full of warmth and caring.

"I love you." He whispered, then covered my mouth with his. Back in Prague, I assumed he was so loving because of his outbursts. I wondered for a moment if this was the apology part in a cycle of abuse or if he was actually like this. Deep, romantic, affectionate. I couldn't be sure.

Deep down, my heart twinged. I wanted this to be real, not some trick to win me back so he could hurt me again. I wished there was some way to know now, but only time would tell. Hopefully sooner rather than later, hopefully before I could fall back in love with him. It would be so easy, so terrifyingly natural to love him again. His generosity, his kindness, his smiles, his goofy ears, his quick wit, his humor. His gentle touches.

I gasped as his mouth descended to my throat, as his hand brushed against the crux of my legs. His fingers seared my skin as they moved skillfully against my body. I instinctively reached for the buttons on his shirt, unfastening them as quickly as I could. I moaned as he shifted my panties aside and a finger delved into me.

"So wet." He murmured against my neck, adding a second finger. I moaned louder, arching up against his hand. A sultry, cat-in-the-cream grin spread across his face. "So needy. I like it."

Before I could react, his fingers started moving inside me, rubbing deliciously. Once again the pleasure mounted inside me quickly, faster than it ever had before. It had to be the pregnancy. My breath came in short gasps, my fingers finally finished the buttons on his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders.

I needed him, wanted more of him. Grabbing the hem of my dress, I pulled it over my head and dropped it next to the couch. Milos took a deep breath, appreciating my matching lace lingerie with his heated gaze. My hands moved to his suit pants, tugging at his belt.

Slowly he withdrew his fingers from me, his hand from my panties. I made a sound in protest, but he just hushed me, sliding my panties down my legs. Finally I managed to get his belt off and unzip his trousers, freeing his erection. He caught my face between his hands and kissed me deeply, as he slowly leaned back across the couch.

I knew exactly what he wanted. I licked my lips, then pulled his pants and boxers off while he watched me hungrily. I was nervous about triggering my gag reflex, especially having been nauseous for most of the day, but my body was humming with want and my mind was muddled with arousal.

Slowly I licked up his shaft, swirling my tongue around the tip. I trailed my tongue down and back up again, teasing him. I got a rush of power, a thrill from doing this. I took him into my mouth suddenly, nearly swallowing his cock. His hands buried in my hair as he called out my name in surprise. Slowly I bobbed my head, sucking every enticing inch as it left my mouth, then kissing the tip as I took it back in.

Milos let loose an impressive litany of Czech profanity as he watched me continue to fellate him. I was impossibly aroused by his reaction, driving me to take him deeper, harder in my throat.

"Wait." He ground out, pulling my head up. "I want to be in you. I want to feel you come around me."

I nodded, climbing astride him. He ran his hands over my swollen breasts, sensually teasing my sensitive nipples, over my round belly, to my hips. I positioned myself over his erection, and slowly slid down onto it. He filled me perfectly, I tossed my head back and let out a moan.

I began to move, up and down. The friction was delicious, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. A thin layer of sweat was covering Milos' body. He was close, barely holding on, his hands vice like on my hips. I caught his eye and reached down, languidly massaging my own clitoris.

Milos picked up the pace, thrusting into me harder, faster, deeper. The pressure inside me mounted until it was white hot, until it was all consuming. Soon I was coming, shouting his name as he pounded into me once more, twice more, before coming himself with a roar.

After a moment of trying to catch my breath I moved off of him, laying my belly between his legs, my head resting on his stomach. We both laid there, breathing heavily in the aftermath. He ran his fingers through my hair, rubbed my back.

"Were you always that amazing?" He mumbled. "How have I lived five years without you."

"Does it bother you?" I asked softly, trailing my fingers up and down his side. "That I've gotten better at... That?"

Milos paused, thought for a moment. "That's a complicated answer. Yes, I am jealous. I don't want to think of you with anyone else." He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. My chest tightened, in a bad way. His jealousy had caused a lot of our issues. "But." Deep breath, in and out. "When I was in anger management, we talked about this. I can't possess another human, I can't control you. You are your own person, and my jealousy cannot be your problem to deal with."

I grabbed his hand with mine and kissed it. A slow warmth spread across my chest. Relief and something else, something I couldn't name. "Thank you." I said simply.

"Anyway, I am mostly angry with myself." I looked up and caught his baleful gaze. "I'm saying this badly. I'm jealous, and also mad at myself. I have no reason to be angry at you, you acted completely reasonably considering my actions. I'm angry at myself for losing you, for losing years together. I will love and raise our girls like they are my own flesh and blood. They will be part of the Dvoracek family, regardless of whether or not you want a divorce in four months. I just sometimes wonder what if things had gone differently in Prague. Would we be married? Would we have children now?"

He didn't know, I realized. Why would I have told him? I mentioned miscarriages in passing, but never the struggle.

"Milos, we may never have had children." He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Four years ago I had a very late miscarriage. I lost many more pregnancies after that. I was told by all the best doctors that I can't carry a child. These girls are a miracle." I trailed off, gently touching my belly.

For a long moment, Milos was quiet. Then tentatively he reached out his hand to mine, laying it on my bump. "I'm sorry you had to suffer those losses." His voice was a hoarse whisper at best. I nodded mutely.

We laid there quietly for five minutes, ten, fifteen. I imagined a different life, what if Milos had gotten help sooner, what if Rafael and I hadn't lost our son. I could mourn the pain, but I couldn't regret anything that brought me to having my girls. I would love, cherish, and protect them every day of their lives. I would never exploit them or use them. I would make up for my mother's mistakes with my love for them.

Finally my stomach gurgled. Milos stopped running his hands through my hair. "Ready for dinner, my angel? If I didn't spoil your appetite."

I couldn't keep thinking about the heavy conversation we'd just had. Instead I smiled coyly. "Dessert before dinner could never spoil my appetite."

He grinned back at me. "Then you should go get dressed, and we can go."

"Of course." I said, getting up and kissing him. I grabbed my panties and dress from the floor, and sauntered back to my room.

I hung my dress on the dry cleaning hanger in the closet and picked a fresh one for dinner. A skin tight, tea length, royal blue tank dress popped out at me. As I changed into it, brushed my teeth, did my hair and touched up my make up, I thought about Milos. I wondered what he was thinking. He said he wanted to stay married past the year, he'd always said that. Would he still want to, knowing I couldn't carry any children of his? Did that even matter? Was I really considering not divorcing him? How did I even feel about him?

I finished dabbing on some make up, and tossed my hair one last time. Right now, in this moment, I was enjoying being with him. For now, that was enough. Things had been hard for so long. I just needed to enjoy things being easy.

I reentered the living room to see him staring into the distance, a smile on his face. Something else new about Milos, he seemed more reflective, more introverted. "I'm ready." I said.

He snapped back into the moment from wherever he was. "A vision, as usual." He said, taking my elbow and kissing me on the cheek.

"Where are we going?" I asked, wrapping my arm around his.

"To dinner." He teased, leading me out the door.