Page 67 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

I try to rewind—fever, chills, his voice, the way he held me—but the memories blur at the edges. I search my foggy brain for details, for any moment that explains how we ended up like this.

Nothing. Just fragments. I didn’t dream him last night. He was really here. All of it was real.

I blink up at him, still half-dazed, and find Leonid already watching me, his blue eyes intense. The morning light catches the sharp line of his jaw, the faint stubble that’s grown overnight.

“Good morning,” I whisper, voice scratchy.

“Morning, baby.” His thumb brushes my cheek once, gentle. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” I test the words, roll my head a little. “The headache’s… subsided. Not gone, but not splitting my skull anymore.”

He brings the back of his hand to my forehead. “You’re no longer burning up.” Relief flickers in his eyes. “Good.”

I frown. “When did you get here?”

“Yesterday morning.” He shifts slightly, keeping me tucked against his chest. “You hadn’t answered my texts. Didn’t pick up my calls either. So I came straight over. You were running a high fever and barely coherent.”

I bury my face in his chest. “Really?”

“Yeah. You kept mumbling last night that you thought you were dreaming I was here.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

“For… making you take care of me.” The words come out small. “I’m sure you had important things to do. And you had to spend the whole day taking care of me.”

His hand slides to my chin, firm, tilting my face up so I have no choice but to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing more important than taking care of you.”

I blink, throat tight.

He holds my eyes, unblinking. “Nothing. Is. More important. Than being here when you need me.” He makes sure to enunciate each word. “Why didn’t you call? Or text to let me know you were sick?”

“I didn’t want to be a bother,” I mumble.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice drops, edged with something fierce. “You’re my girlfriend, Laurel. It’s my duty, my fucking privilege to be here when you need me. You can never be a burden. Not to me. Ever.”

Girlfriend.

The word hits like a spark. My mouth opens, then closes again. No sound comes out.

I’ve never had this. Growing up, it was always me, figuring it out alone, patching myself up, swallowing whatever hurt or sickness came my way because no one else was going to do it.

Tasha changed that a little; when we became friends, she became the first person I could lean on. But even she’s been out of town this week, off with her boyfriend visiting his parents.

And now Leonid just said I’m his responsibility. His to care for. “Did you…” I swallow. “Did you just call me your girlfriend?”

His thumb strokes along my jaw, slow. A small, almost-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, solnyshko. I did.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, one dark eyebrow lifting slightly, like he’s daring me to argue.

A slow, stupid smile spreads across my lips. “Oh.”

His expression shifts, serious now, almost stern. “Wait. What did you think we’ve been doing?”

I shrug one shoulder, suddenly self-conscious under his stare. “You never asked me out. So I just… assumed we were just having sex.”

His grip on my jaw tightens, not painful. His thumb presses against my lower lip, holding me in place. “Yeah, we were fucking. Quite well.” His voice drops, rough and low. “And if you weren’t still recovering, solnyshko, I’d flip you over right now and fuck you into this mattress until you couldn’t forget who you belong to. Until every inch of you remembered you’re my girlfriend.”