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“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper tightly.
His eyes scrape over me. “Why are you dressed?”
There’s a sticky lump lodged in the back of my throat. “Because I’m leaving.”
“Leaving,” he echoes. “You’re leaving?”
I swear to God my heart is seconds away from breaking all over again. “You wanted me to,” I mumble. It sounds a lot more accusatory than I mean it to.
Dimitri frowns, licks his lips. He looks like he has something to say, but he can’t bring himself to. “So you’re… better now?”
“Still sore, but yes.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Will you…” He’s stumped, struggling just as hard as I am to keep my composure. We’re close. So close, in fact, I can feel his frantic huffs ghost across my cheek. “I can have one of my men drive you into the city.”
I shake my head. “No, I… That’s okay. I’ve caused enough trouble for you. And I don’t think your guards like me enough to do me the favor.”
“So, what? You’re going towalk?”
I pick at my fingernails. Dimitri has a point. I doubt I’d make it very far. It just goes to show how I really don’t have a plan.
“I’ll figure it out,” I mutter. “You’ve been more than kind to me, Dimitri. I know I’m on thin ice as it is. I won’t ask you for anything else.”
Dimitri stretches his arms out, gripping either side of the door frame. The guards aren’t here. He either sent them away or they’re out on patrol. It’s just us and this thin, humming tension between us. I can sense his conflict, his anger, his sorrow. Maybe he can sense my regret and anguish.
After almost a week and a half of ignoring each other, whatever righteous fury he might have harbored has effectively fizzled out. All that remains is something hollow and lonely and aching. Everything unspoken hangs above our head like an ax waiting to fall. Whatever we thought we felt for each other hasn’t gone away. It lingers like a ghost, haunting us. Everything we could have been, everything we could have had—it’s no longer possible. And yet that doesn’t stop us from stepping toward one another, drawn together by an invisible force.
Dimitri gets close. Really close. Until our foreheads and the tips of our noses touch. I can see him struggling, feel the way he trembles. And then it happens all at once.
He kisses me. I’m used to him being rough, but there’s something almost timid about it. Like he’s allowing himself a taste, a moment of weakness. Except it grows and grows until he can’t fight it anymore. He kisses me again, this time his hands shooting to the sides of my face.
I sink into it, melting against the hard press of his body as he guides back into my room and shuts the door. His hands are everywhere all at once. Beneath my shirt, combing through my hair, doing anything and everything to acquaint himself with the contours of my body. My fingers are just as greedy, raking over his chest and arms in a desperate attempt to pull his shirt off.
He’s so gentle. Too gentle. I don’t know if it’s because he’s scared of hurting me and my injury, or if it’s because he knows the truth of what’s about to happen. That this isgoodbye.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” he murmurs.
I nod, a soft sob bubbling past my lips before he kisses me again. His words hurt, but I accept them all the same. If this is how we need to leave things, then so be it. I’d much rather be heartbroken than have him hate me.
He guides me to bed, carefully pulling off my clothes. I do the same for him, too busy trying to breathe between sobs and kisses. Every one of his sweet caresses starts a fire under my skin. We move together with such ease, fit together perfectly—it only makes this whole ordeal hurt more.
He settles between my legs and rolls his hips, molding his body to mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close, knowing full well this might be the last time I’ll ever see him. I understand there’s no apology to be given. Nothing can undo my betrayal; I see that now.
A tight coil of pleasure blooms within me, but it’s bittersweet. I cry as he presses into me, and I cry some more when he kisses me like a long-lost lover. There are so many things I want to say, but I can’t find the courage to say them.
I need to tell him about the baby. I need to tell him I’m sorry. And I need to tell him I’m going after Levitsky.
Climax rushes through me and leaves my mind blank.
We were doomed from the start.
When all is said and done, Dimitri lets go. He sits on the edge of my bed, his head in his hands while I hastily get dressed. We both knew this was going to happen; now it’s time to make peace with it—whether we like it or not.
“Take one of the cars downstairs,” he tells me, voice low and raspy. Before I have a chance to protest, he says, “I’m not asking.”
