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My heart flutters as he really does just dive right into the heart of all my stress and anxiety about us lately.
“I have enjoyed our time together”–oh god, here comes the but–“but I understand if you are ready to move on after graduation. I know that being with an older man like me has probably not been your ideal situation, and you could find a better partner. One closer to your age and more in line with your interests. Or maybe you don’t even want a man. Maybe you just want to focus on your career, and after seeing you dance last week, I’m confident you will find success in your passion.”
Ilya’s laying down the possibilities with such cool ease, it astounds me. His tone is even, detached almost, as casual as if we were discussing the weather. This is less of the conversation I expected about how each of us are feeling and more of a laundry list of reasons why I shouldn’t want to be with him after I’m done with school.
What is going on? Is he fishing for an out? Trying to land on what will make me say, “Yeah, you know what? You’re right. I think it’s best we go our separate ways”?
Though it kills me to admit it, as Ilya continues to talk about all the reasons I should want to move on with my life after graduation, I’m realizing he’s actually showing signs that he wants to move on. He wants me to cut him loose. Sharp rejection pierces my chest followed by an immediate sense of loss. As much as he said he wants to be direct, Ilya’s trying to let me come to the conclusion he’s hoping to hear. Tears sting the back of my eyes as a combination of hurt and anger boil up inside me, but I refuse to cry in front of him and make this more awkward than it already is. Fuck it. If he wants direct, then that’s what I’ll be.
“I understand our agreement,” I cut in, stopping him midsentence with a sharper tone than I had intended. “You made it clear from the start that this was a temporary relationship. You don’t need to let me down easy or try to make me feel like this is my decision, Ilya. Just tell me what you want. Do you want to keep fucking me until I graduate? Or are you trying to tell me you’ve decided to let me go sooner?”
Shock brings him up short as Ilya’s mouth snaps closed, and for a moment, he’s silent. Then his brows tilt into a deep frown. “You misunderstand. That is not what I meant at all.”
The sudden frustration in his tone surprises me, confusing me further. “Then whatdoyou mean?” I demand.
“I was only saying this because I don’t want you to feel trapped with me if you would rather find someone new. But, Whitney…” Ilya leans forward in his chair, reaching across the table to take my hand in his. His intense dark eyes fill with deep emotion. “Despite my best efforts, I find that I have developed feelings for you.”
My heart stutters, but I must have heard him wrong. Still, he’s racing forward with his deep Russian accent that makes me want to believe my ears, and he leaves me no opportunity to raise a question or clarify.
“I know my loving you puts you in danger simply because I will always have enemies who might try to hurt me through you. But if you’re willing to take that risk–knowing I will do everything within my power to protect you–I would like to continue seeing you. No, I want to see you for real this time, to try an actual relationship.”
As Ilya falls silent, his passionate speech done, there’s no room for misinterpretation this time. Stunned speechless, I don’t know how to respond. I feel the need to pinch myself to ensure I’m not dreaming because those are the words I’ve been longing to hear for so long. All my anxiety over him pulling away, all my fear of ruining things by falling for him, his words have vanquished them in an instant. Because he has feelings for me too. He actually said he loved me… in a roundabout way.
I can barely think straight with his onyx eyes boring into mine, his strong hand gripping my fingers with a fierce passion that reaffirms his words. I suddenly feel so silly for not having the courage to confess my own feelings. I was so sure Ilya couldn’t love me that even as he confessed to his feelings, I took it as him pushing me away. What a dysfunctional pair we are, so set against love that we would even sign a contract all but promising we wouldn’t fall for one another. And yet, we were just as defenseless against it as all the rest of this mad world. Because I love this man with such an intensity that it frightens me. I love everything about him–and apparently, he loves me too.
And then, as Ilya continues to watch me, searching my face as my mind races and my heart pounds, his expression starts to shift. The fire in his eyes dims, and a mask slides down over his emotions, hiding them from me once more. His hand releases mine as he draws back, leaving me feeling cold and exposed, and the shift in his energy confuses me.
“Forget I said anything,” he murmurs, his voice so low I can barely make out his words. “You’re free to go as soon as our contract ends. I won’t stop you or stand in the way of your happiness–no matter how I might feel.” He looks away as he withdraws from me completely.
But beneath his cool, emotionless response, I can see deep pain. And suddenly, I realize I haven’t answered him. I’ve been rendered speechless for so long that Ilya took it as a rejection. His vulnerability over thinking I don’t want him rocks me to my core. I never want to be the cause of his pain. His eyes slide closed, his hand fisting on the table as I stand. Like it’s taking everything in him not to stop me.
Striding around the table, I slide between it’s edge and Ilya’s chest, settling onto his lap as I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him fiercely.
36
ILYA
She doesn’t want to be with me.I can see her mind working behind those dark-chocolate eyes, whirring at a million miles a second to come up with an adequate response to my proposal. But her silence says it all.She doesn’t love me.And the searing pain of that realization strikes me with such force that I have no choice but to withdraw. I’m more vulnerable than I’ve ever let myself be with a woman before. The last time I felt this level of agony was the day my mother died. I lost her. I can’t stand the thought of losing Whitney too.
But I also know I have to let her go. So when she stands to leave, showing off her revealing dress that all but taunts me with her perfect body, I close my eyes and clench my fists. That way I can’t make her stay. If I had to watch her go, I’m not sure I could allow it.
Deep remorse twists my gut as I wonder if I should have just let things be. At least then, I could have pretended everything was fine for a few more months. Hell, I might have even been able to convince myself of it in that time. And now I’ve chased her off. I was stupid to belive someone as young and vibrant and full of spirit as Whitney could want to be with me. I’ve given her no reason to. My deal was simple, sex in exchange for an education, and she has that now. From the looks of it, she’s really done something with that education too.
My mind plays tricks on me as I allow myself to wallow in self-pity for just a moment. My thoughts are so laser focused on the girl I love that my nose recalls Whitney’s cinnamon scent with perfect clarity, filling me with a soothing calm. And then the warm comfort of what feels like a weighted blanket settles on my lap. It takes me a moment to process what it could possibly mean. And then Whitney’s soft, cupid’s-bow lips find mine, sending a jolt of electricity to my heart like a defibrillator. Her arms wrap around my neck, holding me as close as she fills my space. Her soft body molds to me, her warmth seeping into my clothes as my senses go on high alert.
Overwhelmed by the sensation, my realization about what this must mean comes a second late, and then I’m kissing her back without reservation. My arms snake around her slim waist, my hands pulling her firmly against my chest as I reaffirm that she’s here with me, giving me her answer with a direct line to my heart. She wants to be with me. And though she hasn’t said the words yet, she loves me too.
Warm joy bursts through my chest, followed by a heady relief, and I press my tongue between her lips as I desperately want to taste her. Whitney obliges, her own tongue dancing across mine. We make out passionately in the middle of the restaurant, clinging to each other as our kiss deepens and intensifies. I don’t care who’s watching. I’m lost in her heavenly lips. I want Whitney to understand just how much I care for her. I want her to know it deep in her soul.
My fingers spread across her back, relishing the supple softness of her bare skin as I pull her closer. They travel up her body until one can cup the back of her head, and my fingers comb into her short black hair. I want to hold her like this forever, claim every inch of her as my own, and make her feel pleasure like she’s never known. Because right now, I’m so intensely happy, I would do anything to show how much I love her.
Our kiss lasts an impressive amount of time, its seductive intensity blinding me to the world around us as I respond eagerly to the beautiful woman in my lap. Finally, Whitney pulls away, bringing me back to reality as she gasps for air. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen with a deep blush coloring her cheeks and a fire in her eyes that tells me I am going to love what she has in store for me tonight.
“Take me somewhere private,” she murmurs, her eyes burning into me with forbidden promise.
I glance around at the busy dining room, noting several gape-mouthed stares as other customers witnessed us almost undressing each other at our table. A chuckle rumbles up in my chest as I consider the show we’ve just given them.
“I think it’s time we make this contract liquidation official,” Whitney adds, drawing my attention back to her and igniting anticipation in my belly when I meet her bright kohl-lined eyes.
