I’ve kissed before, but it’s never been soul-crushing like this—and he’s not even kissing me back.
This kiss is different. It feels like everything I’ve ever wanted yet never allowed myself to want.
My eyes are burning, and I don’t know if it’s from confusion or adrenaline or the sheer panic at realizing that I like this.
That Ineedit again.
That I should havemore.
I press my mouth deeper to his, nervous but hungry, my tongue tracing his bottom lip in a shaky sweep. My whole body quakes against his, my heart hammering so violently, it feels as if it might give out under the weight of wanting him.
More.
I need more?—
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A sharp voice slices through the silence like a scalpel.
I jerk away, my heart in my throat, my lips still tingling.The world that I forgot existed crashes back in as I stare at the owner of the voice.
A woman stands frozen against the closed door, her eyes wide with horror, her hand clutching her chest as if I’ve gutted her. A scarf wraps her head entirely, her face has drained to a ghostly white, and her frame is so thin, I fear she’ll collapse.
And I just stare as if I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
Which I have.
Ithink.
“Step away from him,” she orders, and I realize I’m still perched over Yulian, holding his hand.
Fuck. I release him as gently as possible and stand, swaying slightly.
My throat constricts while I step back hesitantly.
The woman rushes to Yulian’s side and falls in a heap on the bed, stroking his face lovingly.
Now that I’m not freaking the fuck out, I notice that she’s trembling, her skin as pale as Yulian’s, the kind that’s sickly and off. Her cheekbones are protruding, barely covered by any flesh.
And yet I can see the resemblance, the brown eyes identical to Yulian’s right one and the striking similarities. She must be his mother.
The one he said his mission is to protect.
Her gaze falls on me, and she sits taller, almost as if she can shield Yulian from me, her expression hard, even though her hand is shaking. “Who are you?”
“My name is Vaughn. Vaughn Morozov. I was at the summer camp with Yulian, and he saved my life, so Iwanted to check on him and…” I trail off, rubbing a hand over my nape, not knowing what to say. She already looks like she hates me, and continuing to remind her that her son is in this state because he took a bullet for me will only make it worse.
“And what?” she asks. “You decided to come here and ruin his life as a thank-you? Get him killed?”
“No, that’s not?—”
“That’s exactly what would’ve happened if it were his father who’d walked through that door instead of me.” Her lips tremble, and I feel a sense of shame I’ve never experienced before.
What the hell am I doing?
I saw Yaroslav beat Yulian to shit. I know that if he were the one who saw us, an actual war might break out. Both he and Dad think the other did it, and Yaroslav is probably even more pissed off because his son’s life was barely saved.
So just my existence in Chicago could be the spark to ruin everything. My parents’ legacy. Yulian’s life.
And for what?
