I watched him for a moment and then acquiesced without a word.
Once the door shut behind me, I slid down it, trembling, while the hot burn of his lips still smoldered on my skin.
moonstruck
(adj.) dreamily romantic or bemused
A knock woke me. I groaned and pulled my pillow over my face when I saw it was only seven a.m. I’d stayed up watching Russian sitcoms into the early hours of the morning, my skin flaring with the aftermath of Ronan’s mouth on mine. It made sleep impossible to find.
I still couldn’t believe how quickly the kiss had escalated, that I orgasmed in a public hallway from only the press of his thigh. I would like to think it was the cyclone of teenage hormones and lust I suppressed, but I knew it was because we had chemistry. The kind that sizzled like the sun on hot pavement from simply being in the same room. And now I knew he felt it too. I could only assume his disturbed reaction afterward was due to him remembering I was only nineteen.
Like it would help, I planned to tell him I was actually twenty.
When the knocking continued, I sighed, tossed the comforter back, and padded across the room to answer the door, half-expecting Ivan to be standing on the other side. But it was only a teenage boy holding a large white box with a paper bag on top.
“Mila Mikhailova?”
“Um, yes?”
He shoved the packages into my arms and disappeared down the hall.
I watched him retreat and closed the door with my foot, then set the box on the bed. Peering into the bag first, I smiled. Breakfast. Opening the box, I found a card.
Don’t give this one away.
—Ronan
I lifted out a long faux fur coat. This one was softer and more luxurious than the last. It had to be outrageously expensive, but my easy heart still grew twice its size. I slipped my arms into the coat and sighed as I fell back on the bed, where I ate the delicious vegan pastry while running my fingers through the white fur.
I liked Ronan.
I liked him a lot.
The mere thought of him made my heart pulse to an exciting rhythm. I came to Moscow in search of answers, but now I wanted to see where this feeling could go even more.
The pastry soured in my stomach at the thought of what awaited me at home: a terrifying lecture, Carter, and the mundane. I wished I could avoid it forever, but guilt already suffocated me at leaving Ivan in the dark. I knew I wouldn’t last longer than a week before telling him where I was and kissing my first taste of freedom goodbye, so I planned to make the most of my seven days in Moscow.
Pulling myself out of bed, I showered and dressed in a flirty lemon-colored dress and a pair of thigh-high boots that barely fit into my bag but were necessary for a boost of morale.
As I walked through the lobby, I greeted the girl behind the counter with a smile and a, “Zdravstvuy.”
Her eyes widened, then she dropped her gaze to the computer in front of her. My smile fell. It seemed everyone here disliked me with a single look. Maybe they could tell I was an American. Were our relations with Russia that bad these days?
The straight-faced concierge beside her silently took me in. He looked about as friendly as Miss Trunchbull in Matilda, but at least he acknowledged my presence.
I headed out the front doors, beneath the cold and overcast sky.
My walk was long, and the sliver of bare leg showing was numb three blocks over, but I had to use my cash sparingly and didn’t want to waste it on transportation. With how oddly Ivan was behaving, I didn’t know what lengths he would take to force me back to Miami before my week of freedom ended.
Moscow was a beautiful city, full of rich architecture and history. I took everything in with wide, curious eyes. I was born here, and walking the streets made me feel close to my roots. Even the air felt lighter here, filling my lungs with the taste of emancipation.
I had to stop and ask for directions twice, but eventually, I stood in front of the opera house. The wind whipped at my ponytail, and I shivered beneath my coat. The place looked deserted, but I tried the front door anyway.
It was locked.
I gave it a harder wiggle, but it didn’t budge. I cupped my hands and peered through the glass. The foyer sat empty, not even a janitor sweeping the floors. Maybe I’d have better luck at a later hour.
Disappointed I’d gotten nowhere, I started my trek back.