“If I had known who you were—if I had known who you really were—things might’ve been different.” His voice drops again, like a warning, like a truth he’s reluctant to face. “But now?” His gaze narrows, the heat in his eyes unmistakable. “Now it’s too late.”
I stand there, my heart racing, my chest tight with emotion. There’s no going back now. And part of me doesn’t want to.
“What do you mean?”
Lukin steps closer, and the air between us grows heavy, charged with something I can’t ignore. His body presses against mine, crowding me against the cool stone of the wall. I can feel the heat of him, the rawness of his presence, like he’s the only thing that matters in this moment.
His hand brushes lightly against my waist, just enough to make my breath hitch. I try to step back, to push away, but my body betrays me. I can’t seem to move. I’m frozen, caught in the pull of him, my chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.
“I love my daughter,” he grits, wrapping strong fingers around my jaw and forcing me to meet his gaze. “I always put her first. But this time.” He dips his head until our lips are only a hair’s breadth away.
“I don’t give a fuck that you’re her best friend. It’s too late.”
“Stop,” I whisper, the words coming out weak, trembling. I don’t want this. I don’t want him so close. But my voice is too soft, too unsure.
He doesn’t listen. He never does. His mouth is almost brushing mine now, close enough that I can feel the heat ofhis breath on my lips, the tension in the space between us thickening with every passing second.
His voice is a whisper, low and raw, the words slipping through the silence like a confession. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. It’s so fucking hard to do anything when all I can think about is how good your cunt felt, little bird.”
The words hit me like a shock to the system. He hasn’t stopped thinking about me? It shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t care. But I do.
I hate how much I want to hear it, how badly I need those words to be real. The way he says it makes my pulse quicken, a heat spreading through me that I can’t suppress.
I’m dizzy with it, with him.
For just a second, I melt into him, my body responding against my will. His mouth ghosts along my jaw, just barely touching me, his lips warm and so close to mine. My pulse thunders in my ears, every inch of me burning with a desire I can’t ignore.
I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him.
But in this moment, with his body pressed against mine, his scent flooding my senses, I don’t know how to stop myself. I don’t want to.
“We shouldn’t.”
“You’re so damn right. We shouldn’t. But who’s going to stop me?”
He’s about to kiss me when I shove him back, hard, my hands pressing against his chest, pushing him away with more force than I thought I had. My heart is thudding so loudly I can barely hear anything else, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, my breath coming in shaky gasps. My lips feel swollen,tender from the almost-kiss, and the weight of the moment is suffocating.
“I can’t,” I say, my voice trembling, but the words are clear. “Not like this.”
I try to steady myself, my heart still racing as I look up at him, feeling the electricity between us crackling in the air, but it’s not enough to make me stay. I can’t be here. This is wrong. Everything about this is wrong.
His eyes—those dark, intense eyes—stay locked on mine, but I don’t let myself look any longer. I turn quickly, my footsteps quick and unsteady as I walk away from him, away from the overwhelming weight of the desire pulling me toward him.
I don’t look back. Not even once.
But I can feel his gaze on me, burning into my back as I enter the house and make my way down the hallway. Every step I take, every breath I draw, feels like it’s in response to him, to the heat he ignited inside me. And I hate it. I hate how much I want to turn around, how much I want to go back, to feel his touch again, to feel that pull.
But I keep walking. I have to.
I can’t stay.
Chapter Eight - Lukin
Fuck.
I can’t sleep.
Her voice echoes in my head, soft but firm, trembling with emotion. “I can’t.” The words hit harder than they should, harder than I ever expected them to. Every time I close my eyes, I hear it again. The push. The rejection. The way she stepped away from me, as if the weight of her trust wasn’t enough to hold her in place.
