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My man, my man, my man—
Nikolai: I’m in your hallway.
I look over at Pico, who’s in the deepest sleep of his life.
Serena: How ominous. Pico is out of it, but I’m wide awake.
Nikolai: Me too.
I creep down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible. But Rosa is standing at her bedroom door in her PJs, her arms folded. She approaches me, frowning.
“Where are you going?” She asks quietly.
“To see Nikolai,” I tell her. “To go for a walk.”
“Why?”
“Just… to see him,” I say. “Why? Don’t you approve?”
“I want you to be safe,” she tells me. “Is he a bad man? Do you know the real him? These are the kinds of questions you have to ask when you enter these waters.”
“He’s a good person,” I reply. “And it’s no big deal. We’re just going for a walk.”
Taking it slow, protecting my spirit, my mind, my heart…
“Are you safe?” she asks.
“With him, yes.”
“Does he have a gun?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. I’ve never seen it, but he must have one. “I have to go. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
In the hallway, Nikolai moves to me fast, like he’s magnetized. I feel the same effect, the urgent need to be close to him. It’s all lust. And it’s all fucking delicious. He grips my hips and squeezes me against him, kissing me hard. I rub up and down his back, then somehow regain some control.
He brushes the hair from my face. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he says huskily. “You’re so beautiful, Serena.”
“You make me feel drunk,” I whisper.
He crushes me with another kiss. As our tongues tingle against each other, I realize how much I love when he holds me like this. Like I’m small and precious, and he’ll always handle me with care… until I don’t want him to anymore.
He steps back, taking my hand. He looks breathless and almost giddy, a stark contrast to his intense eyes and hulking presence.
“You’re so cheesy, grinning at me like that,” I say, but I’m doing it too. It’s like we can’t help it when we’re in each other’s presence.
“Iris was right all along.”
We go to the elevator, riding it down.
I lean against him. “Do you have a gun?” I ask.
“Of course I’ve got a gun,” he tells me. “It’s legal too. I keep it strapped under my suit jacket when I’m in public. At the club, it’s in a drawer. Does that scare you?”
“No,” I say, nudging him. “I just hope you know how to use it.”
“We should get you one too,” he replies. “I can teach you.”
