And thinking about what he did to me last night—I suddenly couldn’t breathe right. Shame licked at my cheeks, made it impossible to meet his eyes. But at the same time, I couldn’t stop looking at him.
He moved without emotion, untouched by anything happening around him. And yet I’d felt him tremble when I sucked him in. I’d made him lose control. That meant something. Right?
God, I was pathetic. A mess. I’d given him power over me, and now I was chasing the high like an addict.
Still… he looked too good in that morning light.
And part of me wanted him to drag me back to that bedroom and ruin me all over again.
We went back into the guest bedroom and changed quickly. The sweatpants were huge, obviously. Thankfully, they had drawstrings we could tie up, though even then they sagged low on our hips. Valeria looked especially ridiculous with her mini dress still on over them, but it wasn’t like we had options.
We had to go back to hers—my father’s men were scheduled to pick me up, and if I wasn’t there, I’d be in deep shit. The kind of trouble that echoed louder than any hangover or bruised pride.
I was still wearing Maksym’s oversized t-shirt. It hung low over the borrowed sweatpants, practically swallowing me. In the mirror, I caught sight of faint stains—cum, maybe spit—smeared across the fabric.
Ugh. Was I walking around like this?
I grimaced, turned the shirt inside out, and tugged it back on. Still better than walking around with evidence of last night written all over me.
The ride was silent. Valeria leaned her head against the window, pale and clammy, looking like she was fighting nausea the entire time. Her pupils were still a little blown, her hands twitchy. Withdrawal. After everything she took, this was expected.
Maksym didn’t say a word. Neither did I.
When we pulled up in front of Valeria’s apartment, he stepped out first, walked around, and opened the passenger door like a chauffeur. Valeria mumbled a quiet thank you and stumbled toward the building, heels clicking awkwardly beneath the baggy sweats. Mine did the same as I followed her up the stairs, trailing just behind as she unlocked the door to her apartment and disappeared inside.
I was just about to step into the apartment when his voice rang out behind me.
“I think you forgot something,” Maksym said, tone unreadable.
I turned halfway, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re wearing something that belongs to me.”
I looked down at the baggy shirt and sweatpants. “Seriously? You want your clothes back? Now?”
He nodded once.
I scoffed. “You’re joking. You want me to strip here? In the hallway?”
I stared at him, my pulse starting to race. It had nothing to do with the clothes. It was the way he looked at me, like this was just another one of his games and humiliating me was the point.
He crossed his arms, leaned against the wall. “Tick-tock, Malaya.”
My throat tightened. I hated how much I wanted to defy him—and how much more I wanted to obey. Just to prove I could do it without flinching.
I slipped off my heels first, letting them drop to the floor. I bit my lip and tugged the shirt over my head. My skin prickled with cold air. My nipples peaked. Then I shoved down the sweatpants. No panties. Just skin.
I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “Enjoy the view, asshole.”
He did. Silently. Thoroughly. An infuriating smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as his eyes traveled down my body—slow, searing—before lifting back up again.
I grabbed the clothes and hurled them straight at his chest before he could say a word. Then I slammed the door in his face.
“Fucking lunatic,” I muttered, leaning my forehead against the door. “Arrogant... smug... ridiculously gorgeous idiot.”
Valeria emerged from the living room just in time to see me standing naked by the door.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Why are you naked?”
