Red blotches bloom on my cheeks and forehead. I’m still struggling to catch my breath. It hurts to see how exhausted I am—yet I can’t seem to rest.
Pavel appears in the doorway, retracing a memory from this morning. But this time, he’s wearing a shirt.
I turn away from him. “I’m going to shower.”
“Liya, I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“About dinner.”
I reach for a towel and gently set it on the counter. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
His features grow taut as he steps into the room and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “I was an asshole. I poked at your plan in front of everyone. I embarrassed you. Made others doubt you. I had no right to do that.”
He drops his clothes to the ground. It’s such a natural movement for him that it doesn’t seem odd to watch.
Yet it feels forbidden all the same.
Heat coils in my gut as I turn toward the shower, swiping my hair aside to reveal the zipper of my dress. What about him? Does he feel like I’m forbidden?
He unzips my dress. Without hesitation.
The tips of his fingers graze my skin.
I shiver and close my eyes. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Why?”
“I have no right judging you for killing people when I’ve done exactly that.”
He slides the right sleeve from my shoulder. “You were angry.”
“I shouldn’t take my anger out on you.”
“I deserved it.”
“I think it’s something else.” I shake my head. “I think it hurts you to hear me call your sister as you do.”
“Could you tell?”
“I know you, Pavel.”
He nods. “It struck a chord, yes.”
A smile breaks out on my lips. But I wipe it away when I reach for the shower door. “I know.”
He drops the other sleeve, exposing more skin. I’m practically shivering now. “That’s why you said it.”
“I care about your sister like you. But I wouldn’t dream of using her to hurt you.”
He slides his arm around my waist. It’s hard to ignore the bulge of his cock poking my ass. I stifle a shudder.
His breath dusts over my ear. “You’re cunning,Lisichka.” He nuzzles my earlobe with his nose. “You’ve always known exactly how to hit your targets.”
It hurts to feel his proximity, because of the arousal he incites in me—almost as if on instinct. A part of me is dying to have him inside me, but another part is screaming for release, for space.
And I don’t know which one I want to win out.