Something dark flashes across his eyes. Not anger. Not hunger. Something heavier. Something restrained.
“You’re welcome, lastochka.”
The word wraps around me like a promise and a warning all at once. You don’t call someone that in Russia unless they mean something to you. It’s a cute term. One of endearment.
He closes the door softly behind him, and I let out a breath and sink onto the edge of the bed, my hands shaking slightly.
I text Bella.
Me: Can we go for coffee tomorrow?
Her reply comes within a minute.
Bella: Of course, girl! I’ll come grab you in the morning.
I set my phone down and stare at the blank white wall across from me.
All I can think about is Drago’s hands. The way they felt at my waist. The way they would feel sliding up, holding me tight around my neck.
How his mouth would feel against mine.
Fuck.
I should have asked him to bring my toys, because this is going to be torture.
There is no way he’d ever want me like that. Not when he’s my dad’s best friend and apparently practically like a son to him. Not when everything about him screams restraint and duty and lines he refuses to cross.
Ugh.
I flop back onto the bed, grabbing a cushion and clutching it to my chest as if it might replace the warmth he left behind.
Nap first.
Because if I don’t sleep, I might do something stupid.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Drago
I slam my foot on the gas, the Aston Martin snarling beneath me as it tears down the road. My hands clamp around the wheel hard enough to ache.
I need to get my head straight.
Every damn time she’s near me, my self-restraint fractures, and hairline cracks are spreading faster than I can contain them.
The way she looks at me is like she sees something underneath the mask. The way she says my fucking name brings goosebumps out on my skin.
It cannot happen.
It was never supposed to feel like this. It was supposed to be an obligation to Lev… Until it morphed into something else. It gave me feelings I never thought I’d have. Not just for her, for anyone.
I never expected the pull to be this violent. This consuming. Like my body decided she was mine long before my brain caught up. And I’m too old for her.
She’s ten years younger than me. She goes on dates with guys under thirty when she does date. Not men nearing forty like I am. That’s just another reason this can’t happen.
I pull up across the street from Lily’s place and kill the engine. The silence rings in my ears.
I reach into the glove compartment, pull out a cigarette, and light it with shaking fingers. The first drag burns, and I welcome it. I need something sharp to anchor me.
