“That’s it,Moya,” he growls against me. “Come for me.”
The sound of his voice, low and commanding, pushes me over the edge. My orgasm crashes over me like a wave, and I scream his name, my body convulsing as pleasure rips through me. He doesn’t stop, licking and sucking through every spasm until I’m a trembling mess.
When he finally pulls away, I collapse back against the table, my chest heaving. He leans over me, sliding my dress back into place with a satisfied smirk before cupping my face in his hands.
“Good girl,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss me deeply. Our tongues tangle, and I can taste myself on his lips. He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his thumb brushing over my lower lip.
“Moya,” he says softly, and I nod, still breathless.
10
LILY
In thick thermal socks,with my wedding dress bunched up around me like an unmade bed, and a heated blanket around my shoulders, I sit on the cool stone steps outside the venue, fork in hand, a plate of half-eaten cake balanced on my lap. The night air is a soft bite against my overheated skin, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe.
Nadia drops down beside me with a low, tired grunt, the satin of her dusty lilac bridesmaid dress spilling across the steps. Her hair is coming out of its pins, her heels dangling from her fingers, but she still looks effortlessly composed—annoying, really. She sets her own plate of cake between us and, without a word, starts eating with the same kind of bone-deep exhaustion I feel.
I tilt my head back, staring up at the night sky. The city glows faintly in the distance, but above that faint haze, the stars push through, sharp and cold. My veil has long since been discarded inside, my hair is a mess, my feet ache, and my lipstick is gone, but I don’t care. I don’t even care that I’m probably ruining this dress. It doesn’t feel real yet—any of it.
“I think,” I say quietly, mostly to myself, “this is the best part.”
Nadia glances at me, one brow arched as she shovels another bite of cake into her mouth. “Sitting on a step in a thirty-thousand-dollar dress, barefoot, eating sugar at midnight?”
“Exactly,” I murmur, the corner of my mouth tipping up.
“You sure fucking your groom right after the wedding wasn’t the best part?”
“Nadi!”
“Sorry,” Nadia laughs, stealing another forkful of cake. “You two were loud.”
“Oh my—” I put my hands over my face, peeking through my fingers like that might shield me from the heat climbing my cheeks.
She leans her shoulder into mine, all warm and sharp angles. For a moment, we just chew in silence, the sugar melting heavy on our tongues.
Then she says, softer this time, “Lils?”
“Yeah?” I say, my gaze fixed on a star that flickers and vanishes into the dark. The sight knocks the breath out of me. It’s a strange ache—the thought that we only see them because they’re dying, that something so impossibly beautiful is already gone by the time it reaches us. The idea presses into my chest, sharp and cold, like grief disguised as light.
Is that what we are, Aleksandr and I? A blaze so fierce it can’t help but consume itself, burning until there’s nothing left but the memory of light? Dying as we shine?
“You should hold onto this moment,” she says, in a voice too tender to be my murdery best friend.
“I hold onto every moment with you, Nadi-bear,” I bump my shoulder into hers, and she smirks, bumping right back into me.
“No, I mean this time with Aleksandr,” she corrects, and my skin goes cold.
The fork slips in my fingers, tilting against the plate with a small clink. Her words echo in my head like church bells—loud, slow, impossible to ignore. Time with Aleksandr. Not forever. Not a lifetime. Time. A span. A window that closes.
My throat tightens, and all at once I’m tumbling inward, my mind spinning out like thread pulled from a spool.
I think about the way he looks at me—like there is nothing else worth looking at. Like I am his air. And yet, what if we’re just a star? Bright, brilliant, but burning ourselves to ash while we try to hold onto each other. Every kiss, every fight, every touch is gasoline. I love him so much it hurts, but what if that hurt is the point?
What happens when the storm that is Aleksandr Petrov finally swallows me whole? Will there be anything left of me? Or worse, what if one day I wake up and he is gone—ripped away like everything else I’ve ever clung to?
I stare up at the stars, but all I can see is his face, that sharp, beautiful face, the cruel tilt of his mouth when he’s trying not to smile, the grey of his eyes that never quite feels safe.
Is that all we get? This flash of light in the dark? And if it is—am I strong enough to take it, knowing it will break me?
