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So I sit on the bed, shirtless, with one hand pressed against my shoulder and listen to the water running in the shower. The water that’s flowing down her body, caressing her in every way I wanted to.

Who am I kidding? I still want it.

Her sounds change to deeper moans, no longer the stifled cries but something else. Cries of mourning shifting to pleasure.

Fuck. What is she doing in there?

Stupid question—I know what she’s doing, and I want to join her.

Chapter

Seventeen

Katya

I was hoping the water would wash away the blood on my hands. Make me clean, and not coated in shame and regret. George and Marguerite’s lives are gone, and it’s my fault. Or maybe that’s survivor’s remorse. I do take the blame for my local doppelganger choking on her own blood because whoever was hitting the place mistook her for me. The losses of the past few hours build and swell until I let out a sob. My tears mix with the shower water and it all vanishes in the drain.

Maybe it’s the weight of failure, because no matter what I do, I keep screwing it up. My feelings for Dimitri are real. Katya and Katie both think he’s everything I could want in a partner. But I spent a year lying to him, and he’s been betrayed by everyone he’s known and loved. He’s alone, and maybe that’s where he wants to be. He could start somewhere fresh and new and leave all of this behind. Maybe he could become an agent for the CIA or some sort of contractor, protecting the world and being the good person he’s always hidden, but was never allowed to be.

Now I’m trapped in a hotel room with him for God knows how long. My guilt for failing him and lying to him is crushingme. And since we’re out of danger and hope is within sight, the quiet thoughts start to scream.

While I was undercover, I never allowed my fantasies to creep in. I shut them down, locking them behind a steel door guarded by a three-headed dog named Pookie. But now? Now my cover is blown, he knows the truth, and I can’t see the harm in throwing a squeaky ball at Pookie and letting him run away while I pull back the door ever so slightly.

The shower masks my moans as my fingers slide between my legs, visualizing Dimitri's hands all over my body. As the water falls on my neck, I imagine his lips. Recalling how perfect he felt in the closet, before he tried to kill me and everything went to shit. Blocking that out, reliving the moments. A moan claws out of my lips as my fingers dip inside me and the slickness moves over my clit. I rub, imagining his mouth on mine, his hands cupping my breasts, and it brings me closer to the edge. But I stop. That’s as far as I’ll let myself go. To the edge but never over.

My personal morals don’t leave a lot of room for my own pleasure. But now my whole body is alive and supercharged and I have a chance for release.

Until the rise of bliss falls, and I’m left aching for more. And more frustrated at myself. I turn off the water and grab a towel, drying the water out of my hair and leaving the dampness between my legs.

I’m wrapping the towel around my chest when Dimitri’s voice calls out, “Aw, fuck.”

Alarm bells rattle in my head as I dash out of the bathroom to find him sitting on the bed, bloody tissues littering the nightstand. “You popped your stitches.”

“I am aware. It happened a few minutes ago.”

I grab the medkit out of my bag, my wet hair dripping all over my towel, and return to him. Dropping the medkit on the bed, I start to get to work. He’s shirtless, which makes it easierto work, but far more distracting. I’m not sure how much longer the liquid stitches will hold. At least the wound is healing nicely, no irritation or indications that something is wrong.

“Katya,” he says, his voice thick and hoarse.

“Yes?”

“Are you alright? I heard you in the bathroom.”

“When I was crying or moaning?”

“Both.”

His back is stiff, pressing against the headboard. He watches me with his hunter's eyes. I wipe away the blood and apply a second layer of liquid stitches, his breath hot on my wet skin.

“It’s been a long few hours, and a lot of feelings needed to be released,” I say.

“What were you thinking about?”

“You.” Our eyes meet, and everything feels electric. “For both.” He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “I’m sorry for lying. You lost everything and I understand if you blame me.”

“It’s not your fault.” His voice is quiet. “You saved me, and I wouldn’t know that Uri is still alive. I’m not alone because of you.”

“Thank you,” I say as I continue to clean his wound. This time it’s not as bad, but it will never heal unless I take care of it now. “I’m done lying to you.”