Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
For some reason, my heart beats like it’s pumping blood for two people right now. “Natasha, I just, ah…”
She lays her slice of buttered toast down on her plate and looks up at me expectantly.
“Are you okay? After last night? I mean…” Blyad’. I plow a hand through my hair. “Did you feel forced?”
“Well, I think that was kind of the game we were playing, right?”
Bozhe moi, this girl. So calm and cool about it. So freaking mature.
Relief washes over me. Then my brain goes into overdrive. Is that a game she knows? One she’s played before? Fuck, I don’t even want to know the answer because I want to kill any guy who got rough with her in the past. And I was rough. I probably left marks on her ass spanking her with that spoon.
“Yeah. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Her gaze drops, and she starts scraping at the polish on her fingernail—her nervous tell.
My stomach bottoms out like I’m on the dip of a rollercoaster. I will karate chop my own throat if I traumatized this girl.
“I’m good. I mean, I liked it.” My relief is short-lived because she goes on, “I’m less okay with you calling it a mistake every time. That makes me kind of queasy.”
Queasy. Dammit. That sounds like shame. Or humiliation. Nothing she deserves. I have to fix this fuck-up.
I stride over to her and pull the chair beside her out. She makes eye contact when I sink into it. “Natasha…”
I don’t know what to say. How do I explain without betraying Alyona?
“I, uh, I liked it, too. I like you… a lot. But I can’t be in a relationship. So I don’t want to lead you on that way. That’s the only reason I said it was a mistake.”
She nods slowly, studying me like she’s examining my story for cracks.
“I may think it was a mistake, but I’m also not sorry,” I admit.
She works to swallow and turns her face back to her plate, picking up her toast.
I take the hint and get up. As I walk toward the office, I hear her say softly, “I’m not sorry, either.”
Her words fall over my head and shoulders like one of those nets that drops from the trees. It’s light, seemingly harmless, but when it closes around me, it traps me into new thoughts.
Thoughts of more.
Wondering if it could happen again without the giant ship of my entire identity sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
Natasha
He bought me chocolates.
Not just a few pieces. The guy literally must’ve bought out the whole store.
Maybe it was out of guilt—it sounds like he was worried I’d felt forced. As if I hadn’t been the one to drop to my knees and unbutton his jeans.
He revealed so much about himself this morning. Not just the conversation saying he couldn’t have a relationship. I already surmised that much. And yes, I’m kicking myself for not asking why. I didn’t want to show any disappointment or hurt, so I just swallowed the statement and let it sit in the pit of my stomach, making it impossible to finish my breakfast.
But the purchase of the chocolates, the checking in with me—those actions prove that he is the guy I thought he was. He may be acting like a grumpy bastard right now, but he’s safe. He’s kind.
And I still want him.
Am I an idiot for setting my targets on a guy who tells me he’s unavailable?
Most certainly.
But he’s also admitted he likes me a lot.
And I like him a lot.
And none of that is even about the off-the-charts sex we’ve had. Last night was life-changing for me. I found out things about myself I never knew, and I will never be able to approach sex the same way again. To think, we haven’t even gone all the way yet! If we’re this good in an office and a kitchen, I can’t imagine how explosive we could be in a bedroom.
But the best thing is that I don’t even need that.
Dima feels right to me.
When I’m with him, I feel like I can be myself. I suppose that’s why I could give myself over sexually—I didn’t hold back or edit myself. I let go, and the entire world exploded.
Dima feels like mine. Like we belong together. There’s an ease between us—like we’re an energetic match. That’s what I’d felt with him from the first day we met. I’d made a note to myself that if I ever was in trouble, he was the bratva member I’d go to for help. He was the one I knew I could trust.
Then things got weird, but now, I know what that was about.
He recognizes what we have, too. And for some reason that I need to discover, he thinks we can’t be together.