“What? No,” she said quickly. “It’s not that.” She hesitated, voice trembling with something far more vulnerable. “It’s because… I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps with the guy who won her in a bet.”
The air left my lungs in a quiet exhale. Not because she was wrong—but because she was right. She deserved better than the way this had started. She deserved something that didn’t carry shadows.
I nodded once, slow. “You think any of that matters now?”
Her eyes met mine—uncertain, but fierce. “I don’t know. I just… don’t want this to be something I regret.”
I stepped in close again, brushing my fingers through her hair with the gentlest care I could offer. “Then we wait,” I said. No frustration. No pressure. Just truth.
The weight between us shifted. Not gone—but understood.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I added quietly. “Not unless you ask me to.”
She didn’t say anything right away. But the way her body leaned into mine—tentative, trusting—was answer enough.
And in that moment, I wasn’t the Reaper. I wasn’t the guy who made the bet.
I was just a man trying to be worthy of her hesitation.
“For thirty days?” she asked, her voice a breath against my chest—half challenge, half vulnerability.
I cupped her jaw gently, my thumb brushing her cheek. “For however long you want me to wait.” Her lips parted just slightly, breath catching. I leaned in, letting the space between us hum with tension before I whispered, “But I’d like to kiss you again.”
A pause. Her eyes searched mine, wide and soft and unguarded. “I think…” she whispered, voice trembling with something new and dangerous, “I think I’d like you to.”
That was all I needed.
I kissed her like I meant it this time. No holding back. My mouth claimed hers with aching precision—slow at first, then deeper, until our tongues tangled in something that felt like a fight and surrender all at once. She met me halfway, fingers curling in the fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer as if the space between us was too wide, even with only inches left.
My hands slid along her waist, finding the dip of her spine, the curve of her hips. Every part of her I touched sent fire racing through my veins. She wasn’t just kissing me—she was letting me in. And it undid me.
God help me.
Because thirty days? Thirty days weren’t going to be nearly enough.
Chapter 15
Mina
I blinked awake, sunshine spilling across the bed like a golden invitation to start fresh. The sheets were ridiculously soft—nothing like the scratchy ones I’d had back at the apartment. For a second, I just lay there, limbs tangled, stretching like a lazy cat while warmth spread across my skin and something fluttered in my chest.
Oh, my gosh. The kiss.
A tiny squeal tried to escape my throat, but I bit it back, lips pressing into a smile even as my heart did somersaults. I could still feel it—his mouth on mine, soft and intense and all-consuming. It wasn’t just heat; it was something else. Something that had me grinning into the pillow like a total maniac.
Get it together, Mina.
I sat up, the hoodie I’d borrowed (okay, maybe stolen) from Nikolai slipping off one shoulder. It smelled like him—clean and cold and a little like cedarwood—and I wasn’t even embarrassed at how deeply I inhaled. I pulled it tighter around me, nerves humming with leftover adrenaline and something dangerously close to butterflies.
Padding into the kitchen, I opened the fridge, fully intending to find something to ground me—coffee, maybe yogurt. Was it weird to feel this giddy over a kiss? Probably. Did I care? Not even a little.
Then came the voice, low and rough like gravel wrapped in velvet: “Good morning.”
I spun around, clutching a carton of orange juice like it might protect me. And there he was—Nikolai in all his post-sleep, messy-haired glory, leaning in the doorway like a dream that wandered out of a romance novel.
“Hey,” I breathed, the word lighter than air.
He gave me that smirky-little-smile thing that made my stomach dip in the best way. “Did you sleep well?”
