“Only when that someone is the reason I need help in the first place.”
“What can I say?” A grin snakes up as he pulls me closer to his chest. “I always clean up my messes.”
“God, I hate you.”
My attempt at pushing him further away is futile. The man is just too strong.
His lips tug into an even more maddeningly smug curve, infuriating and infatuating all at once. “Wouldn’t be fun if you didn’t.”
He exhales a laugh when I groan, the sound vibrating through his chest, and I hate how stupidly safe he feels.
Instead of pulling away, I let go. Just for a second. Long enough to allow my cheek to rest against the steady rhythm of his heart.
When his arms tighten around me, it’s not rough. It’s like he’s been waiting for me to fall into him all this time.
CHAPTER NINE
ALEKSEI
I kickthe door shut with my heel and carry her to the sofa, setting her down like she’s fragile when she’s far from it. But something about seeing her hurt makes me want to be gentle.
Shto ya zdest delayu?What the hell am I doing here?
Why didn’t I leave her in those woods? Why couldn’t I just walk away?
Blyat. Ti vapshe idiot.Fuck. You’re a real idiot.She tried to put you in prison, and you’re here making sure her little boo-boo is okay? You are not her doctor. And you are definitely not her husband.
I need to go. This is not my damn job. She shouldn’t be a priority, and definitely not someone who deserves my mercy.
But when I heard her cry out, when I saw her limp through the woods like that with pain shadowing her features, something inside me twisted. Something I don’t want.
She moves against the cushions and winces. And there’s that damn unwelcome feeling again. Her nose scrunches with her pain, and she looks even more irresistible right now than she did in those woods.
“Uh, thanks.” She positions herself higher on the sofa. “But you can go now.”
Instead of leaving, I head for the stairs.
Ty bol’noy na golovu, I scold myself as she calls out after me.You’re sick in the head.
“Where the hell are you going?”
A smile winds up my mouth from how pissed she sounds while my footsteps climb higher up her stairs, knowing how much she hates me being in her space. If she only knew how many times I’ve been in her panty drawer, she would rip my eyes out…and I’d probably enjoy it a little too much.
The first time I visited, it was curiosity. The second, compulsion. By the third, it was full-blown obsession.
I knew the scent of her shampoo before I ever ran my fingers through her hair. I know where she keeps her pills. Her razor. Her vibrator. I know which panties she avoids when she’s on her period. Or how she sleeps facing the window—unless it’s storming. Then she turns in.
I know too much. And I’m not sorry.
Because while she burns with hate for me, I have already built a cathedral out of her name in my mind. And every time she trembles or cries out my name, it only confirms what I already know.
She doesn’t belong to anyone else. Ona moya.She’s mine.
After grabbing a T-shirt and a pair of her sleep shorts, I head toward her bathroom and pick up the first aid kit too before heading back down. Her eyes lock on to mine the second I enter, and the fire in them singes the air between us. I toss the clothes onto the cushion beside her, and she gives the most dramatic huff I’ve ever heard, like I have offended her royal sensibilities.
It’s maddening. And fucking adorable.
“What the hell? How did you know where those were?” Her eyes narrow. “Have you been inside my house before?”
