His arms tighten around me. “Why?”
“Because I’ve spent my whole life running from things. Making myself smaller, hoping that would keep me safe, but it doesn’t work.”
“You are safe with me.”
“I know. But you can’t be everywhere at once. What if something happens when you’re not there?” My voice cracks slightly. “I don’t want to be that scared person anymore.”
He’s quiet for a long moment.
“Good,” he says finally, and there something like pride in his voice. “You should know how to protect yourself.”
“Really?”
“After you heal.” He presses a kiss into my hair. “You are stronger than you think,zaychik. Time to learn to use that strength.”
“You’d be okay with me having a gun?”
“More than okay. This makes me proud, not worried.”
There’s something intoxicating about the thought of not being a victim anymore. I want to feel that confidence, that strength that comes from knowing you’re not an easy target.
I close my eyes and just breathe.
A few days later,I finally drag myself to the couch, feeling weak, but better than I have all week. Alexei walks in wearing only black workout shorts, chest bare and covered in sweat. His hair damp and clinging to his forehead. The guy works out so much, and I have no idea how someone can wake up at five thirty every morning to torture themselves with exercise. He’s been using his home gym every day since we got here. I might have wanted to murder him the first time that alarm went off so early, but now I’ve gotten used to it and sleep through it.
His phone’s been buzzing constantly all day. He opens the freezer, pulls out a bottle of vodka, takes a sip and puts it back.
I scoff. He glances over his shoulder, catches me looking, and smirks at me.
He’s been weird, like weirder than usual, keeps ordering things online for Clover with express delivery. Every day it’s a new package with food, toys, treats she’ll probably ignore. He even bought me clothes, like full outfits with shoes and jackets, everything I could possibly need.
He walks off toward his bathroom. I hear the shower start a minute later.
I stare at the ceiling and try not to overthink everything. He hasn’t really touched me since the hospital, not like that, and I know why. I know he’s trying to be careful with me, but I hate it. I don’t want to be treated like I’m made of glass.
Yes, what happened with David sucked. Yes, I was scared. But I’m still me, and I still want him.
I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I feel is something soft in my hair, fingers moving gently through the strands. I blink open my eyes and see Alexei sitting next to me, shirtlesswith damp hair, holding my phone in his hands. His thumb moves across the screen, deleting something, before he notices I’m awake.
He glances down at me. “Sleep well?”
I sit up slowly and watch his hand fall from my hair. I catch a glimpse of him setting my phone back on the coffee table. When he looks at me now, there’s something pained in his expression.
“What were you doing with my phone?” I ask, still groggy.
“Spam call. I declined it.”
Something about his tone feels off, but I nod.
I know he’s trying to protect me, trying to give me space after everything with David, but it’s making me feel worse. I need to know he still wants me. That David didn’t ruin this. That I’m not broken in his eyes now.
My body’s still sore, and my head feels foggy, but I want this, want him. I press my palm against his thigh and slide my hand higher until I’m cupping him through his shorts. I pause and look up at him.
His eyes darken as he looks at me. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I say quietly.
His jaw tightens, and I can see the conflict in his expression, the way he’s holding himself back.
