Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“Can I walk you back to your room?” I ask, feeling slightly off-kilter.
She hesitates only a moment before falling into step beside me, our shoulders almost touching as we move down the corridor. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She looks relaxed but tired. In fact, she’s looked that way often since she moved in. At first I chalked it up to lingering stress from her old job, but I can’t shake the sense she’s hiding something.
We reach her wing of the house, and I stop outside her door. She reaches for the handle, then pauses and turns to face me.
“I hope everything was okay while I was out,” she says.
“Everything was fine,” I say. “Mom’s resting, and Sasha’s been checking on her. But it’s a lot quieter here when you’re gone.”
Her eyebrows lift, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Is that your way of saying you missed me?”
I smirk. “Would it work if I said yes?”
She laughs, and I swear it’s the best sound I’ve heard all week. My gaze drops to her mouth, the lush curve of her lips and the way they part when she laughs. A faint blush blooms across her cheeks, and I burn the image into my mind for later.
“Tell me something,” I say, keeping my voice low. “And be honest. How do you really like living here?”
She shifts on her feet, as if she’s weighing her options. Maybe she doesn’t want to tell me the truth. Maybe she’s unhappy here. I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.
“Living here is amazing,” she gushes, and I can tell she’s not just being nice. “I’ve enjoyed it so far, and I’m really happy I’ve already been able to help Liliya so much.”
I step closer, shrinking the space between us. “Is that all you’re happy about?”
She blinks, glances away, then meets my gaze again. Her voice dips, almost shy. “Well, it’s been nice seeing you again,” she whispers, and every nerve sparks to life.
Her blush deepens, spreading down her neck. I let my gaze linger on the pink hue warming her skin, knowing she feels this as much as I do.
My hand moves without thinking, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. My fingers trail down the side of her cheek, a soft caress that makes her breath hitch. Her skin is warm beneath my touch, and I can feel the faintest tremble in her jaw.
She stares up at me, eyes wide and searching. “Are you going to kiss me?” she asks boldly, no trace of embarrassment in her voice.
I study her for a long second, letting the silence stretch between us. “Do you want me to?”
She nods once. “Yes,” she breathes.
I close the distance between us, lowering my mouth to hers in a kiss that starts slowly but turns fierce quickly. Her lips part for me and that soft, warm, welcoming familiarity engulfs me. I press her to the door, one hand cradling her cheek while the other claims her waist.
She tastes sweet, like something rare and intoxicating I’ve denied myself for far too long. She fists the front of my shirt, anchoring herself while hauling me closer. She isn’t passive or hesitant. She kisses me back with the same hunger I have for her.
My body reacts instantly. Every muscle tightens, every nerve fires. Days of pent-up tension crash into me at once. Her mouth is both sin and salvation, and I don’t know how I’ve gone so long without it.
I break the kiss slowly, reluctantly, and rest my forehead against hers. Her breath fans across my skin, shaky and fast.
“Nicole,” I murmur, brushing my thumb across her lower lip. “You make it very hard to behave.”
She lets out a soft laugh, breathy and nervous. “Maybe I don’t want you to behave.”
I lean in and press another kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You need to be careful saying things like that to me.”
“Why?” she whispers, challenge sparking in her tone. “What happens if I’m not careful?”
“I’ll stop pretending I can keep my hands to myself.”
“I never asked you to,” she says, tugging me against her and into her room.
16
NICOLE
Imelt at the slide of Sergei’s tongue against mine. He’s an expert, an artist, and I can’t get enough of him. It’s everything I’ve been waiting for, yet a ribbon of nerves snakes through me. The last time we nearly kissed, someone barged in.
The moment the thought forms, he presses me into the door and flicks the lock. His arms cage me, pinning me with his body, blocking any escape. He wants this as fiercely as I do and is just as eager and unwilling to risk another interruption.
His hand slips to the back of my neck, and then his mouth is on mine. There’s nothing hesitant or gentle about it. His kiss is deep and consuming, like he’s trying to make up for lost time. I feel it everywhere: my lips, my spine, the ache blooming low in my belly. My hands clutch his shirt for balance, for something solid to cling to. I press myself flush against him, where every inch of me aches for him.