He moves from the chair to the bed. The mattress dips under his weight. He's too close. Not close enough. My body can't decide whether to run or lean into his warmth.
"One more question," he says. "What do you want, Sofia? Really. Not what your family wants. What do you want?"
I should deflect. Give him something safe. I want to destroy your organization. I want my family safe. I want to go home.
But the vodka has dissolved my filters, and his proximity has scrambled my training.
"I want to remember. I want to know who I was before I became this… this weapon. I want to understand why I wake up crying for a boy I can't remember."
My voice breaks. More tears fall. I don't wipe them away.
"And sometimes… lately… I want things I shouldn't want."
"What things?"
I don't answer. Just look at him. Let him see the heat in my eyes, the way my breathing has changed, the slight lean of my body toward his.
He inhales sharply.
We're so close. I can count his eyelashes, see the flecks of silver in those pale eyes. Map the scar on his jaw that I gave him, according to family legend. His breath smells like expensive vodka.
He reaches out, fingertips tracing my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. The touch burns, brands, claims without taking.
"I should hate you," he murmurs. "I've spent eleven years hating you."
"Do you? Still?"
His thumb brushes my lip, and I part them instinctively. His pupils dilate, breath catching.
"I don't know what I feel anymore." His thumb presses slightly, testing. "You've ruined me, kotyonok. I was certain of everything before you."
I should pull away. Should remind myself this is my captor, my enemy, the man who wants my family destroyed. The man with thirty-seven kills and a basement made for torture.
Instead, I lean into his touch. Let him feel the heat of my breath against his thumb.
"I was certain too. Now I don't know which way is up."
His other hand comes up, cradling my face between his palms. Holding me like something precious. Or something he's about to break.
"If I kiss you right now…" His voice is gravel and sin.
"Then kiss me."
His hands tighten. I see the war in his eyes. Want versus control, revenge versus whatever this is between us. His jaw clenches. His entire body vibrates with restraint.
Then he pulls back. Stands. Crosses to the window in three strides, putting necessary distance between us.
"You should sleep. Take the bed."
"Where will you…"
"The chair."
"Alexei…"
"If I get in that bed with you right now, I won't be able to stop." He looks back at me, and the raw hunger in his eyes makesmy thighs clench. "And despite what you think of me… I don't want to take something you'll regret in the morning."
"What if I won't regret it?"
