Vladimir Petrov better enjoy the little time he has left. My mother warned him once about laying a hand on me, and she is not one for idle threats.
Eli pulls back a little and looks at me. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself." He nibbles his bottom lip. "Did you really mean what you said? About. . ."
"I meant every word. You're my whole heart, Solnyshko." I kiss him tenderly, hoping my soul-deep emotions somehow transmit through.
“What does Solnyshko mean? You've called me that a few times."
I huff out a small laugh. "Closest translation is sunshine."
His lips form my favorite awed little 'O' shape, and my damn chest expands with emotion until I think I’ll burst. There’s no denying I've fallen truly, madly in love with this man who unravels me effortlessly.
My perfect counterbalance.
"I love you, Eli Holmes. All that I am is yours. You are everything to me."
"I love you too," he whispers against my neck. "Exactly as you are."
Chapter 11
Eli
My teeth sink into the side of my cheek as I chew the skin, my pace increasing as I make my way to Alexei’s dorm. He should be back from his away game. Sure, it’s only been one day but I miss my Russian bear.
I also need him right now because I’m freaking the hell out. I’ve been working on a new piece for class. Inspiration finally hit me, even if it came from one of the worst experiences I’ve ever been through.
Watching the showdown between Alexei and that biggest piece-of-shit-excuse-of-a-father broke my heart. And infuriated me. I still can’t believe Alexei just shrugged off the fact his father punched him.
And as it turns out, it’s not the first time.
I’m not a violent person, but for once I wish I was as much of a psychopath as his friends are. I want to kill the bastard, to gouge his darn eyeballs out with a teaspoon. I think that would hurt. I hope it would.
But seeing Alexei, really seeing him, inspired my newest creation—a half torso with a tough as steel face where half the face shatters, revealing a secondary face full of hurt and pain and scars underneath.
Only my miniature model went missing, hence why I’m freaking out. The piece is due in two days, part of a benchmark grade for the larger project. How am I going to explain this to my professor?
I knock rapidly on his door, running my fingers through my hair, trying to fix what I can to not look as frazzled as I feel.
The door swings open and he doesn’t even say hi. Nope, he just slams his mouth down onto mine and drags me inside as his tongue invades me. And I melt the way chocolate does in a car during the heat of summer, whining like I always do for him.
“Missed you, Solnyshko.”
“I missed you too.”
He pulls back a little, hand running along the side of my face, brows pinched. “What’s wrong?”
I huff, about to ramble on about my missing miniature when I spot the damn thing onhisdesk.
My eyes narrow mere slits. I want to pummel the jerk. “Are you serious right now?”
“What?”
I point at the miniature sculpture. “That! I've been looking everywhere for it! Freaking the hell out andyouhave it!"
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Came by to surprise you this morning because we got home early but you weren’t there. I saw it and thought it was beautiful and wanted it.”
I step back and throw my hands up. “You unbelievable asshole. That’s part of my grade, not for you to steal.”
Some of my anger deflates when the fact he called the piece beautiful finally registers.
