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Then I was livid that I could be drawn back in so easily. One touch—one taste—was all it took to make me forget everything else and give myself over to him again.
Now, thanks to Anya’s story, I know a little about what it is costing him. What he has sacrificed for his family.
And I can’t find it within me to be mad about that.
“The only thing you need to know,” he says, “is that I’ll die before I let someone hurt you again.”
I’m afraid to breathe. This moment is tenuous, fragile. One exhale could send it fluttering away.
Then he takes his hand away.
It’s instinctual—the urge to be close to him, to not let him draw back yet again. I don’t plan to do it, but I find myself lunging for his hand. My fingers wrap around his wrist and I pull him close. I cradle his hand between mine, staring down at where we intertwine.
“What I know,” I say softly, “is that you are a good man, Ivan Pushkin. No matter what anyone says.”
His thumb circles across my palm, sending goosebumps up my arm. “I’m good to my family,” he murmurs. “I’m good to the people who follow me. But to everyone else—to anyone beyond the scope of that, to anyone who threatens me or the ones close to me—I’m a monster. Because that’s what is required of me.”
“By your father?”
“By this life.” Slowly, he withdraws his hand from mine. “If I’m going to keep the promises I’ve made, I don’t have room to be good to anyone else. I don’t have time to add anyone else’s needs to my plate.”
I feel the wall between us going up brick by brick. I want to cry.We were so close.
But Ivan made a deal with his father and he wants to see it through. He wants to take care of his sister and be a good son, even if his father doesn’t deserve it.
Heisa good man, which is exactly why he’s trying to push me away.
But the way his head is hanging now and his eyes fix on everything except my face, I don’t think he wants this wall between us anymore than I do. Soon, though, we won’t have a choice. The clock is running out, and I can feel our moments together slipping away.
That doesn’t mean I’m ready to let them go.
I want Ivan right now, like this, even if it’s only for a little while.
So I shove the comforter back, rise to my knees, and climb onto Ivan’s lap. When he looks into my eyes, I drag a finger down his square jaw. “What aboutyourneeds, Ivan?”
59
CORA
His hands settle on my hips, fisting in the material of my shirt.Hisshirt. “What are you doing?”
“You spend a lot of time talking about what everyone else needs. I want to talk about what you need.”
“What I need is to be a man of my word.”
“So be one,” I say plainly. “I’m not stopping you.”
His thumbs stroke over my ribs. “No, but you’re making it really fucking hard.”
I may have been unconscious half an hour ago, but my body is thrumming now. I feel like a livewire in his hands.
“You have secrets. I know that. But so do I.” I wrap my hands around his neck and trace my fingers through his silky hair. “We both have good reasons not to be here—not to be together. But I can’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t let you tear this shirt off of me right this second.”
I feel his hard length pressing against my center. “For one, this is my shirt.” He smirks. “I’d hate to lose it.”
“Oh. Okay.” I reach down and pull the shirt over my head in one smooth motion. I toss it at the end of the bed and turn back to him. “Is this better?”
Outside, I’m confident. On the inside, I’m a ball of uncertainty.
