Of course I want it. Of course my body notices him. The way he fills a space without talking, the way his attention lands on me and doesn’t flinch away, the way he looks like the kind of man who would pin you down and make you forget any other man existed but him. Not that I’ve had any except that stupid one-night stand, but still…
Sloane
Mandy. Stop. I’m trying to sleep.
Mandy
Please, that man is hot. I bet he eats good too. I would be climbing that tree if I were you. Trust me, he’d let you.
Sloane
Is Kirill hot? Yes. Do I imagine his tongue doing things to me no man has ever done? Also yes. But will that ever happen? No. Definitely not.
The message whooshes away.
Holy crap, I can’t believe I said that! And the worst part is my brain supplies images I did not ask for—Kirill’s mouth, his hands, the feeling of his thick muscles and his weight on top of mine—and my body reacts like it’s been starving and someone waved food under its nose.
I tug the blanket higher over my legs like I can hide my thoughts under it. This is exactly why I don’t let myself want things. Want turns into need, and need turns into stupid choices.
Mandy is going to lose her shit, especially knowing it’s so uncharacteristic of me to talk like that. But whatever, it’s out there now.
Then I glance back at the screen…and my stomach drops straight through the floor.
The name at the top of the thread isn’t Mandy. It’s not even close.
It’s Kirill.
No.
No, no, NO…
Air leaves my lungs in a piercing, silent gasp, and my fingers go numb around the phone.
How the hell did you do that?!
My finger stabs the screen like I can unsend it, but no such luck. I’m still screwed.
Panic surges up my throat, and before I can think, an apology starts spilling.
But his message comes in before I can send whatever crap I’d come up with. I’m almost afraid to look, my gut knotting with pure and utter mortification. I’ll never be able to look him in the face again.
Kirill
Where exactly do you imagine my tongue, Sloane?
Oh my God… Oh my effing God.
This is how I die.
My face is completely flushed, like it’s on fire. It actually wouldn’t be so bad if I caught fire right about now…
This is the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done, completely topping the incident in high school where I barfed all over my food in front of the football player I had a crush on.
My fingers shake as I try to come up with SOMETHING. Anything at this point. But nothing good comes out.
Maybe I just say nothing, kidnap Milo, and move far, far away. I mean, itisthe plan, right? I can just start early…
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I force air into my lungs before writing whatever the hell comes naturally. At this point, what could be worse?
