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“I want to believe you. But too many people have told me that I’m a shitty mother now for me not to believe it.”
I grit my teeth. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. That shit I said about you, with Josh… it was uncalled for. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
She twists to the side so that she can look up at me. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that.”
I snort. “Don’t get used to it.”
She actually smiles. It’s tentative and it’s watery, but it’s real. And itdoessomething to me.
“I wouldn’t dare…” She plays with the buttons of my shirt, pressing her body harder against me. She’s wriggling a little too much now for my liking. It’s giving my cock all kinds of ideas.
The top button of my shirt is open, so she slides her hand through the opening. Her fingers are warm and needy, just like the rest of her. My cock is still wet from the last time we fucked but you’d think, given how full my balls are right now, that I’d been celibate for months.
“Kiska…”
“Hm?” She’s practically grinding on my leg. And given my position, it’s entirely obvious how hard I am. Her hand glides over my chest, down towards my erection.
I could stop her. Ishouldstop her.
But I don’t.
“Was this the plan all along, my needy littlekiska?” I growl. “Is that why you’re grinding all over me? Was the last time not enough for you?”
You’d think that would stop her. But she meets my gaze boldly. “It bothered me for a split second yesterday, when you called me your whore.” She palms my cock and starts rubbing slowly. “But I realized today: you can call me anything you want—as long as you also call meyours.”
Fuck me.
My lips crash against hers. I push her back against the bed and get on top.
I’ll worry about the consequences of my complete lack of discipline tomorrow. For right now, I want to claim her. I want to own her. I want toconsumeher.
For all her betrayal, all her deception and all the lies, there’s no denying it anymore: the woman belongs to me.
One betrayal’s not gonna change that.
28
EMMA
I wake up to an empty bed rich with his scent.
I’m not sure how to feel right now. My body is sore in the best possible way. I feel calmer than I have in weeks.
But I don’t trust this feeling.
Last night comes back to me in short, vivid bursts. The moment he pushed inside me, his thick girth filling me up with one hard thrust. The moment our palms met, chests met, foreheads met, like we were zippered together, sharing air and a heartbeat. Eyes flashing. Sweat between us, salty and pure.
Too many moments like that.
I want more of them and I want less at the same time. How much longer can this strange back-and-forth go on between us? How long can we stand on quicksand and expect not to be sucked beneath the surface?
I wipe the sleep from my eyes and roll over. That’s when I notice the piece of paper pinned beneath my phone on the bedside table.
He left me a note?
I jump for it as though it’s about to disappear at any moment. Definitely Ruslan’s handwriting. Hungrily, I lap up his words, hoping for something personal.
The note contains the name and number of one of his lawyers, Isabel Costa, as well as the name and number of a child therapist, Alicia Young.
