“How was your night?” she asks, voice tight.
Kira doesn’t even blink. “Perfect.”
I bite back a sound that’s dangerously close to a laugh or a groan, because she’s lying and the way she says it makes it sound like last night was something she’d die to repeat.
Irina’s jaw clenches. “I see.”
Mikhail leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes flicking between us with open amusement. “You two look cozy.”
Kira nudges my leg with hers again, subtle but deliberate. “Do we?”
I meet her eyes. There’s something wild in them, something new she’s trying to get a hold of and failing, and I feel the pull, the tightness, the need to drag her somewhere private and finish the kiss she started.
“Yes,” I say, my voice low enough only she hears. “We do.”
Her breath stutters.
Irina pushes her chair back. “I think I’ll leave you to your… breakfast.” The last word is bitter.
Neither of us tells her to stay.
Kira watches her walk away, then exhales slowly, like she didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath the whole time. Her shoulders drop, and her hand drifts down to her lap. For a moment, she looks almost confused with herself.
I turn my head toward her. “What was that?”
She doesn’t look at me. “What?”
“You know what.”
She swallows. “I don’t like the way she talks to you.”
Mikhail lets out a bark of laughter. “Possessive. I like you.”
Kira shoots him a glare as color rises to her cheeks. “Shut up.”
He grins harder. “You shut up.”
I ignore him, my attention fixed on her because this is the first time her reactions are this real and raw, and I love that she doesn’t know how to hide them yet.
“Kira,” I say quietly.
She finally looks at me, her eyes wide and a bit panicked, like she just realized what she did.
“I just… didn’t like it,” she mutters, looking down at the table, fingers twisting together nervously. “I didn’t think. It just happened.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice rough. “I noticed.”
Her cheeks redden, the flush rising fast, and she looks away for the first time since she walked in. She pushes her chair back a little too quickly, palms flat on the table like she needs something to hold on to.
“I’m… I’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” she mutters, already standing, trying to sound casual but her voice isn’t steady enough to sell it.
I watch the way her fingers tremble as she smooths her dress, the way she keeps her eyes anywhere but on me, and it hits me again how much that kiss got to her. How much she’s trying to hide it.
Kira
I leave the dining room fast enough that I know it looks suspicious, but staying there another second with Artyom staring at me like that, like he knows exactly what that kiss didto me, feels like a terrible idea. I can still feel his fingers on my waist, the pressure of them, that low rumble in his voice that hit somewhere deep in my stomach, and my whole body is wired and shaky in a way I can’t pretend is anything except wanting him.
The bathroom is empty. I shut the door behind me and lean against it for a second, trying to breathe like a normal human being. My hands are shaking. I didn’t mean to kiss him like that, not like I had any claim on him, but the moment I saw Irina leaning toward him, her hand practically touching his chair, her voice soft and sweet, something snapped, and suddenly I felt possessive in a way I hadn’t before.
