Fifteen breathless seconds.
He won, and I didn’t even care.
I kissed up his neck, making a soft noise of appreciation. The man smelled so good, so masculine and unlike Carter’s expensive cologne. The heady scent hit me like a shot of dopamine.
“And now she’s sweet.” His voice was soft but leashed. He angled his neck away from me like he wanted me to stop kissing him. I was too high on the heat of him and post-orgasmic bliss to stop.
I ran my fingers over his erection, relishing the thick, hard feel of him. My hand moved of its own volition to feel every inch while my lips and teeth teased a line down his neck. Soon, he hissed out a breath and gripped my wrist to stop me.
“I can’t do much more of this unless we’re going to fuck.”
Oh.
Hesitation flickered to life.
Was I ready for that? It would take little effort. I could unzip his pants and have him inside me in seconds—it would be so easy. But something held me back. The fact he wouldn’t admit he felt this connection too. My pride wouldn’t allow him to have everything of me without giving a piece of himself in return.
My eyes met his, and I knew he saw the resistance behind them. Letting out a breath of amusement and frustration, he kissed me on the lips and then moved me off him and stood. Naked and cold, with my ass cheek still stinging, I watched him walk to the door.
“Eat,” he demanded, and then he left without a parting look.
zemblanity
(n.) the inevitable discovery of what one would rather not know
I walked down the aisle stuffing my arms full of snacks: popcorn, chips, something sweet because salty. Obviously, I was eating my feelings, and the woman behind the counter was judging me the entire way.
I ignored her, grabbing a bottle of cucumber-flavored soda to wash it all down with.
After last night, the impending doom of going home and wearing Carter’s diamond ring tore at my every nerve, but I couldn’t just abandon my life forever. Not for a city that didn’t welcome me. Not even for a man who made me feel for the first time in my life.
I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I could hold Ronan’s attention for more than a week. The thought of never seeing him again already ached like a hot coal in my chest. How bad would it be if I gave him my virginity?
I had to go home.
It was the only lasting thing I had.
I dropped my load on the counter. The cashier looked completely unimpressed with my purchases, but she didn’t say a word as she rang me up.
I paid with one of my last ruble notes, planning to
go to an ATM soon. I could no longer live on Ronan’s generosity. It didn’t feel right anymore.
Making my way out the door, I ran into someone.
“Izvinite pozhaluysta,” I apologized, reaching down to pick up the candy bar that fell out of my bag—but I froze when tattooed fingers reached it first.
I was more than familiar with Ronan’s hands, and these weren’t his.
An icy breath escaped me as I lifted my gaze to the man’s face. The same man I saw twice before. His frigid eyes touched my skin, spreading frost beneath my clothes.
“You must be more careful,” he said, his voice heavy with a Russian accent.
I swallowed. “Of course. I apologize.”
He looked at the candy bar in his hand, holding onto it possessively. My heartbeat was stuck in my throat, feet frozen to the sidewalk.
“Late time to be out for a girl so young,” he drawled, and with a sweep of my body, he added, “so beautiful.”