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He had something I wanted echoed in a deep timbre in my head. It was the last thought I had before I found myself in the hall, right outside his closed door.
Once I opened it, I could never go back. I knew it would change everything, but what I didn’t realize at the time was . . . everything already had.
“You can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”
—Albert Einstein
HE DIDN’T LOOK UP AS I opened the door.
But he knew I was here.
He sat on the side of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his gaze on the floor. A dangerous haze permeated the air like tendrils of smoke. It felt as possessive as chains, looked like moonlight, and tasted like obsession.
Silver rays filtered through glass, illuminating his body but not his expression. Now that I was so close to him, breathing his air, feeling his presence that could effortlessly consume mine until I would cease to exist, the bravery that had brought me here disintegrated to dust.
My heartbeat tried to escape my throat, and an icy shiver ran through my blood, leaving my skin hot to the touch. I hadn’t known it was possible to want something so much and to fear it in equal measure. Hesitation stopped my feet and tugged at my heart. Nonetheless, I suddenly knew that even if I chose to change my mind and turn around . . . I wasn’t getting out.
Every inch of my body burned as I walked toward him. Sensitive as freshly waxed skin, his pants felt abrasive against my inner thigh as I forced my leg between his slightly parted ones. He didn’t look at me, nor did he widen his stance so I could step fully between his legs. My breaths and the drumming of my heart fluttered in the air before silence liquefied them.
I brushed a hand across his neck and into the thick hair at his nape. He let out a quiet, tense breath. A heady warmth poured off his shirtless chest, and I absorbed it like an addict. My fingers laced through the soft strands, gripping a handful like I’d done days ago.
Feather-light, his hands skimmed up the backs of my thighs, and my pulse sparked like crackles in a fire. My breasts were bare beneath my shirt, heavy and tight so close to his face. He only had to lift his head to put his mouth on them, to relieve them of this pressure.
His fingers grew firmer on my thighs, gripping the flesh, caressing it. Something tugged on my stomach from the inside as the fiery heat of his palms burned through my skin. Every squeeze sent a thrum between my legs, settling into an empty ache. My breaths came out ragged and shallow while he remained silent, as though what he was doing deserved his full concentration.
The haze in the air began to thicken, to flare, to burn with every inhale.
My stomach tightened as his hands inched beneath my cotton shorts, teasing th
e curve of my cheeks with a touch I was beginning to believe was singular. His palms slid under the hem and gripped two handfuls of my ass. A throaty sigh escaped as he kneaded the flesh. Tingles, hot and slick, pooled between my legs, and my fingers curled in his hair.
He found my thong and traced the cotton downward. My body hummed in anticipation, but right before he reached where I needed him, he tugged the fabric to the side and let it snap back in place. The movement brushed my clit and sent a sizzling sensation up my spine that knocked me off balance. When my other hand found his nape to catch myself, my short nails trailed down the back of his neck.
He shook his head to throw my touch off like he hated it, and a low growl sounded from deep in his chest. My hand dropped away. I didn’t have time to weigh his reaction because his fingers slipped beneath my thong, sliding so low they brushed my back entrance before pausing. The touch was foreign to me, but I was so hot I found myself rolling my hips for friction.
A groan poured out of me when his hand slid further downward and one finger pushed inside of me without warning. His rough “Fuck” ran down my spine. He fucked me slowly, in and out, and the pressure built between my legs like too much steam collected in a glass jar.
My head fell back and my palm came up to his neck, my nails running the length of it. When he tensed, I suddenly realized what I did and dropped my hand. However, it was already done. I received a smack on the underside of my ass that sent a toe-curling rattle throughout my entire sex. I didn’t think it was a good punishment at all, but then he pulled his finger out of me and a desperate ache remained.
A haze had infiltrated my skin, my mind, my inhibitions, and the corners of my vision. I needed one thing, could think about only it, and it wasn’t physically possible to leave without getting it.
His legs parted, and I didn’t hesitate to step all the way between them. His gaze lifted and his eyes met mine; the blaze inside them was liquid lead and darker than shadow. Our lips were inches apart. Close enough we shared breaths. Close enough to kiss.
I realized how weak I truly was at that moment, because if this man told me to kiss him, I would. I would do anything he wanted. But he never did. He only watched me with a narrowed gaze while breathing my air like it was his to take.
“Take it off,” he gritted.
He didn’t speak of my clothes. He looked at my face, but he might as well have stared at my left hand. Now I understood it wasn’t the nails on his neck that had bothered him—it was the ring.
I swallowed and tried to think through the mist he’d created in my mind. I’d told myself I wouldn’t take the ring off until I did what I could to make amends. I hated to admit it, but I wanted this moment more than a guilt-ridden reminder. Though, the truth was, it wasn’t simply about what I wanted anymore.
I needed him. More than morality or honesty.
I knew I shouldn’t sleep with Nico, not with my deceit so close on the air I could taste it.
But, as I took the ring off and let it fall from my fingers to the floor, this was the moment I knew I wouldn’t be so bad a Russo after all.
Heat and satisfaction rolled off his body. Without another thought, I grabbed the hem of my t-shirt with both hands and pulled it off in one swoop.