Page 77 of Wicked Refusal

As he fucks my mouth with his cock and my pussy with his toy, I forget why we’re not supposed to do this. Why every thrust of Yulian’s hips fills me with shame as well as pleasure.

Because we’ve been down this road before, and it did not end well.

“Stop fucking him, then,” Kallie says with a shrug. Her manicured hands roll the steering wheel as she cuts off a poor bastard coming from her right. She always drives like a crazy person, but then again, this is New York. If you don’t drive crazy enough, someone’s going to use your hood as a skateboard ramp, and that’s a fact. “I mean, I’d totally miss your pussy podcast, but?—”

“Kay.”

“What? It’s true. I’ve been speaking with the you-down-there more than the you-up-here. Though it doesn’t surprise me, considering what I’ve heard of Yulian’s, ahem,gifts.”

I bury my face in my hands. Here I am, in Kallie’s beat-up Nissan, inhaling the smell of new leather and mortification as I overshare every detail of my love life.

No, not love—sex.What Yulian and I do has nothing to do with sentiment. It’s pure physical need.

That I’m hopelessly in love with him is a whole other can of worms.

“I can’t,” I whine. “He’s a whole meal, Kal. Not a snack, not a spice—a five-course dinner.”

“Sure you’re not the one who’s cooked?”

“Maybe I am,” I sigh. “Maybe I’m hopeless.”

“Or maybe you just have to pick a lane.”

I wish it was that simple. It sure feels like it when we’re naked, hands roaming each other’s bodies, locked together like perfect puzzle pieces.

Because the truth is, Yulian is a sin. He’s indescribably hot, all abs and muscles and musky scent, and every time he looks at me with those burning cinder eyes I feel like I could come on the spot. And when his beard is grazing my thighs, when his tongue is lapping up my juices, it’s easy to forget what happens to sinners like me.

No—to liars.

I’m not afraid of burning in hell. What terrifies me is the thought of Yulian finding out the truth about that flash drive. It haunts me, day and night—the swinging blade of consequences.

The Baldwins are involved with Prizrak. Brad’s father was likely one of the deep pockets behind their activities in the early 2000s, when Yulian’s family was brutally murdered on Desya’s orders.

But then, after Baldwin Senior’s death, the donations kept going. More than that—they increased. Last year alone, there was a spike that nearly doubled the amount. If they’d stayed the same, I’d have written it off as an autopay situation, or as Brad not being aware of what goes on right under his nose. But that’s not what this is. My instincts are screaming that there’s more to it, that the Baldwins’ involvement goes deeper than any of us ever realized.

Then there’s his lies. The way he used me as bait and let me find out the hard way. He’s come clean since then, but can I really trust him? He never apologized properly to me. Never owned up to what he did, only excused it in a million different ways.

Last time, I let my heart take the wheel, and it almost drove me and Eli off a cliff. I’m not doing that to him again. I’m not doing it to this baby.

Either Yulian doesn’t deserve me, or I don’t deserve him. It’s that simple.

Whichever one it is, we’re just not meant to be.

Sadness fills me, a slow trickle turning into a flood. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. What if we’d done it right the first time around? Why couldn’t we just do it right?

“Mommy!”

I blink. Kallie has pulled up into the school’s parking lot, and I didn’t even notice.

I slip out of the car and scoop up my kid. “Hey there, little man. How was school?”

“We drew tortoises!”

“Oh-em-gee, tortoises?” I make a big, surprised face. “You’re sure they weren’t turtles?”

“Those have ninja masks, Mommy.”

“Right, right. How silly of me.”