“You didn’t have to do this,” she says, her voice low.
I know that. But seeing her like this, all raw and real…Fuck. I wanted to. I wanted to give her and those kids one normal fucking night.
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I wanted to.”
She looks at me, really looks at me, like she’s trying to figure out some complex puzzle. “Why?”
I step closer, close enough that I can smell her shampoo, see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. “Because you deserve it, Wren. You deserve good things.”
She scoffs, but there’s no real heat in it. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough,” I say. And I do. I’ve seen her fight, seen her protect her own. Seen the way she looks at her siblings like they’re the only thing in this world worth a damn.
We’re standing so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off her. Her eyes flick to my lips, then back up.
“D,” she starts, but I cut her off.
“Tell me to leave,” I say, my voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll go.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me, her breath coming a little faster.
I lean in, slow enough that she could stop me if she wanted to. But she doesn’t. Our lips meet, and it’s like earlier but different. There’s no hesitation now, no uncertainty. Just heat and want and something deeper, something I’m not ready to name yet.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Wren’s cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You should go,” she says without conviction.
I nod, stepping back. “I should.”
But neither of us moves. We stand there, the air between us charged with possibility.
Finally, Wren breaks the silence. “This is a bad idea.”
I can’t help but grin. “Probably.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she’s trying to hide. “Get out of here, you big lug. Before I change my mind and keep you.”
I lean in, pressing one more quick kiss to her lips. “Yes,printsessa.”
As I leave, I hear her lock the door behind me. Three locks. Good girl.
I walk down the creaky stairs, out into the night air. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Two weeks. Two fucking weeks since I slipped her my number. Not a peep. Not that I’ve been waiting or some shit. But every time my phone buzzed, I’d—
Pizdetz.It doesn’t matter.
I look at the screen. It’s from her. Wren.
“Thanks for the pizza. Don’t let it go to your head.”
42
Dimitri
Blyat, this night’s gone off the fucking rails.
One minute, I’m checking if she’s okay; the next, I’m balls-deep in her tight cunt.
