“Look at me,” I tell her. “I want to see your face when you come.”
She lifts her head. Our eyes lock, and I can see everything in hers—fury and want and something that might be the beginning of forgiveness… or maybe regret. I can’t tell.
“Come for me, Solnyshko.”
She breaks with a sob, and I feel her pulse around me, watch her face as she falls apart, and the sight sends me over the edge. I empty myself inside her with a groan that I don’t try to hold back.
We stay joined for a long moment. Both panting. Neither willing to be the first to let go.
Finally, she unwraps her legs. I lower her carefully and pull out, and she lunges for her clothes.
“That didn’t mean anything,” she reminds me while pulling on her jeans.
“You already said that.”
“I’m saying it again, so we’re clear.”
I watch her dress. My release is running down her thighs, and some primitive part of me is satisfied by that. She’ll feel me for hours.
She pulls her sweater back on and finger-combs her hair into something resembling order. It won’t fool anyone who looks closely, but it’s better than the disheveled look she had thirty seconds ago.
“I hate you for making me fall for a lie,” she says once she’s dressed.
“I hate myself for the same reason.”
She tilts her head and watches me for a long moment. I can’t read her thoughts. Can’t tell if she came here for closure or something else.
“Dmitri’s planning to use you,” she finally tells me. “He wants you to maintain contact with Adrian while we figure out how to stop him. You’ll be under constant surveillance. Boris has orders to kill you if you deviate from the plan even an inch.”
“I understand.”
“You’ll be moved out of this cell and given a room in the compound. But don’t mistake it for freedom. You’re a temporarily useful prisoner.”
“I get it.”
“Good.” She turns toward the door, then pauses with her hand on the handle. “That morning in St. Petersburg. The restaurant where I ordered the wrong dish.”
“Yeah?”
“I ordered it wrong on purpose. I wanted to see how you’d react when things didn’t go according to plan. Whether you’d get frustrated or adapt.” She looks back at me. “You adapted. Didn’t complain once. Just made up a story about your uncle.”
“That story was true. He did say that.”
“I know. That’s why I believed you.” She opens the door. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Then she’s gone, and I’m alone again with the taste of her on my tongue and the knowledge that I just made everything between us infinitely more complicated.
But for the first time in four days, I don’t feel like I’m drowning.
I feel like maybe I have a chance to fix what I broke.
19
Sasha
I can still feel him between my thighs when I walk into the compound gardens at dawn.
Sleeping with him was stupid.
