Page 58
Story: One of Them
When Maxim showed up much later, he headed straight to the bathroom.
The rainforest shower gushed out streams of water, the droplets dancing against the marble. I urged my body to leave the comfort of satin sheets, seeking him.
I leaned against the vanity, watching him rinse off. The steam partly hid his figure, my body fighting the urge to join him or, better yet, wipe the fog off the glass to see him more clearly. I fought with all my might, but my eyes… they betrayed me. I stood there, tracing every move, every drop that slid down his skin. It felt like an invasion, to witness something I wasn’t meant to see. If there was a canvas worthy of the image, and if I had the talent, I’d rush to capture it.
Maxim cut off the water, stepping out of the red puddle. He reached for the towel and wrapped it low around his hips. His steps led him right to me, our feet touching when he reached over, grabbing my chin between his fingers, denying me the mouthwatering view by tilting my head.
We stayed like that for a while before I pushed up on my toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. His eyes searched for answers, something unreadable flashing through the greens. I gave him nothing, just a smile before slipping back under the sheets.
I tucked my hands under my head, breathing in the moment. The mattress dipped under his weight, the sheets ruffling. His hands searched my back, tracing the scarred lines.
“What would you be in another life?” he asked in a throaty voice.
“Yours,” the word escaped me in a whisper. It was a fleeting thought, clouded by the fog of sleep, because the word felt like a commitment I could never keep.
Closing my eyes, I forced my thoughts to calm and focused on the even breaths of the man beside me. As I neared the sleep gate, Maxim kissed my shoulder blade, his voice a low murmur in the dark. “In another life.”
Maybe it was a dream, a trick of my groggy mind, but I answered anyway.
“There is no such thing,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
And I crossed the sleep realm’s door.
Someone was in the basement. Quiet steps, only a trained ear could follow, came from down the hall. It was all it took to jolt me awake. On instinct, I reached for my gun, but the weapon wasn’t there.Wrong room.
Well, this should be fun, I thought.
An unnatural amount of heat poured out of Maxim’s body, pressing closely against my back. His hand looped around, holding onto the front of his shirt I wore. It was as if he didn’t want me to slip out without his knowledge.
With spare seconds to act, I ran out of time to move him gently.
“I know,” his voice grazed my ear when I shifted. A hot puff of air tickled my bare skin as he tightened his grip inreassurance.
We both listened closely as the steps neared the door to the gray bedroom. Still fighting the dizziness of the night, I focused on the movement. There was a familiar rhythm in the steps.
“It’s your brother,” I rasped out, relieved.
“Wha–”
Confirming my educated guess, Luka whispered through the closed door. “Maxim. Are you here?”
“Jesus,” his brother muttered next to me. “You couldn’t announce yourself sooner? We almost shot you.”
“We?” Luka’s voice expressed his surprise. “Are you decent?”
“No,” Maxim protested.
“Yes,” I shouted over him.
Luka poked his head through the gap in the open door, looking at the floor out of politeness or fear of Maxim’s reaction.
“Hey, Tay,” he greeted, his voice quiet. “Ilya called for you guys.”
Ilya?
I slipped out of Maxim’s grip, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. Still early.
When I reached the door and swung it open, Luka was standing behind it, dressed and ready to go.
The rainforest shower gushed out streams of water, the droplets dancing against the marble. I urged my body to leave the comfort of satin sheets, seeking him.
I leaned against the vanity, watching him rinse off. The steam partly hid his figure, my body fighting the urge to join him or, better yet, wipe the fog off the glass to see him more clearly. I fought with all my might, but my eyes… they betrayed me. I stood there, tracing every move, every drop that slid down his skin. It felt like an invasion, to witness something I wasn’t meant to see. If there was a canvas worthy of the image, and if I had the talent, I’d rush to capture it.
Maxim cut off the water, stepping out of the red puddle. He reached for the towel and wrapped it low around his hips. His steps led him right to me, our feet touching when he reached over, grabbing my chin between his fingers, denying me the mouthwatering view by tilting my head.
We stayed like that for a while before I pushed up on my toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. His eyes searched for answers, something unreadable flashing through the greens. I gave him nothing, just a smile before slipping back under the sheets.
I tucked my hands under my head, breathing in the moment. The mattress dipped under his weight, the sheets ruffling. His hands searched my back, tracing the scarred lines.
“What would you be in another life?” he asked in a throaty voice.
“Yours,” the word escaped me in a whisper. It was a fleeting thought, clouded by the fog of sleep, because the word felt like a commitment I could never keep.
Closing my eyes, I forced my thoughts to calm and focused on the even breaths of the man beside me. As I neared the sleep gate, Maxim kissed my shoulder blade, his voice a low murmur in the dark. “In another life.”
Maybe it was a dream, a trick of my groggy mind, but I answered anyway.
“There is no such thing,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
And I crossed the sleep realm’s door.
Someone was in the basement. Quiet steps, only a trained ear could follow, came from down the hall. It was all it took to jolt me awake. On instinct, I reached for my gun, but the weapon wasn’t there.Wrong room.
Well, this should be fun, I thought.
An unnatural amount of heat poured out of Maxim’s body, pressing closely against my back. His hand looped around, holding onto the front of his shirt I wore. It was as if he didn’t want me to slip out without his knowledge.
With spare seconds to act, I ran out of time to move him gently.
“I know,” his voice grazed my ear when I shifted. A hot puff of air tickled my bare skin as he tightened his grip inreassurance.
We both listened closely as the steps neared the door to the gray bedroom. Still fighting the dizziness of the night, I focused on the movement. There was a familiar rhythm in the steps.
“It’s your brother,” I rasped out, relieved.
“Wha–”
Confirming my educated guess, Luka whispered through the closed door. “Maxim. Are you here?”
“Jesus,” his brother muttered next to me. “You couldn’t announce yourself sooner? We almost shot you.”
“We?” Luka’s voice expressed his surprise. “Are you decent?”
“No,” Maxim protested.
“Yes,” I shouted over him.
Luka poked his head through the gap in the open door, looking at the floor out of politeness or fear of Maxim’s reaction.
“Hey, Tay,” he greeted, his voice quiet. “Ilya called for you guys.”
Ilya?
I slipped out of Maxim’s grip, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. Still early.
When I reached the door and swung it open, Luka was standing behind it, dressed and ready to go.
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