She rested her head on my shoulder, her arms still looped around my neck like she couldn’t bear to let go. I shifted us slowly, lowering the seat until I was half-reclined, and she stretched out on top of me, her body molding to mine as we sank into silence.
I ran my fingers through her hair, slow and gentle, letting her breathe against my chest. Time blurred. The world outside the car ceased to matter. It was just her and me and this pocket of calm in the wreckage.
Eventually, she shifted, pulling back just enough to look at me.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “For making this day better.”
I brushed her cheek with my knuckles. “Don’t thank me.”
“Why not?”
I exhaled hard. “Because I haven’t fixed a damn thing yet. I hate that you feel like this. In your own home.”
Then I reached into my pocket, pulled out the black pocket knife I always carried. I turned it over in my hand once, then offered it to her.
“If someone hurts you,” I said, “don’t hesitate to use it. I mean that. Go feral, Malaya. Go fucking feral. I’ll handle the cleanup and the alibi.”
She let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, eyes flicking up to mine. “Wow,” she said quietly. “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever told me.”
She took it without blinking, her fingers brushing mine. “Thank you,” she said, eyes gleaming now. “You bet I’ll use it. I just have to decide who I kill first—Felix or my father.”
We both let out a quiet laugh—low and a little bitter, the kind that comes when everything feels a little too broken.
She stayed close for another moment, then sighed softly, reality settling back in. “I should go,” she said, regret threading through the words. “My father’s driver will come for me soon.”
I nodded, though every instinct in me resisted it. She leaned in anyway, kissing me once more, my hands slid to her ass, gripping her from both sides, squeezing hard as our mouths collided.
When we finally broke apart, I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing hard. “You’ve got ten seconds to get out,” I whispered against her mouth. “Or I’m flipping you over and fucking you senseless in the back seat.”
“Don’t say things like that,”she whispered with a faint smile.“I might actually stay.”
She slipped off me before I could change my mind, straightening her clothes, already slipping back into the armor she wore for the world. At the door, she glanced back once more, eyes dark and bright all at once.
Then she was gone.
I dropped my head back against the seat and scrubbed my hands over my face, exhaling hard. “Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered to myself. “What am I supposed to do with this hard-on?”
17
Mila
—Maksym—
Isat there in the car for a minute after she was gone. Then another. My hands stayed on the wheel, engine running, but I wasn’t going anywhere.
She had already disappeared around the corner, but she was still everywhere in my head.
I could still feel her pressed against me—the weight of her body, the way she leaned in like she belonged there. Her breath on my throat. Her lips brushing my jaw like she was whispering some dangerous fucking spell straight into my blood.
My chest burned. And my cock was still hard.
I swore under my breath and leaned my head back against the seat. This was ridiculous. She was gone, and my body was acting like she was still sitting on my lap.
I tried to think about work. About the shit I actually needed to do today.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
Cold shower. That was the only thing that had a chance of fixing this before I did something stupid.
