“Anytime.”
“Maybe next time, I’ll be better at it.”
“I don’t know,” he rumbles, words paced. “You did pretty well for a first timer.”
My thighs press together, making me accidentally shift over top of him. It throws my balance, and though I lower a foot to catch myself, so does his hand, moving from the armrest to my thigh, taking up so much of my bare skin. His touch will imprint there, surely; an outline charred.
Lev is touching my bare skin. His fingers curl around my thigh. After ignoring me for days.
I’m so lost.
I’m also not breathing.
“What kept you up?” he asks.
“Mind’s too full, I guess.”
“With?”
“School. Life. Alessio.”You.That, I keep to myself, because it’ll be smarter to hide, but the moment I think it, my stupid mouth also forms the words, pushing the admittance out. “You.”
“Me?” His head pushes back into the headrest, but his hand tightens around on my thigh. “I shouldn’t be keeping you up.”
“But you are.” My tone takes on an unintended whininess, yet I can’t stop my self-destruction. “Why have you been so off the past few days?”
“Fina…” His tone, his eyes, his very body, are overlaid with the very regret embedding into the base of my stomach.
Suddenly, I want—no,need—off him, and like he senses my abrupt demand for safety, his grip gets heavier.
“I’m just—” His eyes briefly shut, and a ripple of despair flits through them. His next words carve out my own. “When you want to go out with that guy, let me know. I’ll need his name. Should have done this days ago, but my mind’s been elsewhere.” His free hand suddenly darts for his cell off to the side. “Although, he’s probably fine, when it comes to your safety, I won’t be taking any chances. After I finish the checks, and youwant to see him, tell me. If not me, then Vanessa or Anastasia. Actually, maybe it’d be better if it’s them.” That last point is a mumble.
I block him from reaching his phone by grabbing his wrist. “Not needed, since I won’t be going out with him. I froze when he took my phone, nothing more. I’m not interested in him.”
Lev pauses, his hand beneath mine. His gaze drops, and although he’s only looking at my mouth, his eyes are everywhere. In my soul, injecting into my veins. There isn’t a safe place.
“Wasthatit?” I demand. “This is over Daniil?”
He turns his head to the side in an attempt to hide what he’s unable to—the green filtering through the soft brown.
He’s jealous.
I twist further, until my side is against his stomach. He’s stiff but soft, the predator caught in a trap of his own making. My movements are slow, tentative, as I drag my hand from his wrist and up his arm, brushing over the artwork towards his shoulder. His chest stops moving, his breath hiking when I settle my hand over his heart and lean forward.
Jaw cracking, he turns his head. “Fina, no. We can’t.”
Can’tis a strange word. It implies someone else decides who can and can’t kiss me when I’m the only one who gets that choice.
“You’re not saying you don’t want to.”
“Serafina…”
My hand continues its path from his heart to his neck, resting along his pulse, which thrums quickly. “What if I wanted you to?”
“I can’t.Wecan’t.” Despite his disproval, he shifts his arm around my waist, dragging me closer.
“Why?”
He stares at me, trying to search for every reason to push me away. The moment his internal fight ends flashes through his eyes with a glint—a warning. His pulse jumps twice beneath my palm before he officially snaps.
