Page 25 of Mikhail Petrov

Leah walking back into my life as my partner, what we did on that plane, and how we ended up in this room together makes my mind reel. She can’t imagine the guilt and torture I’ve lived with for the past four years.

Fisting the edge of the couch, I nearly spring to my feet and barrel through the goddamn door. But I cover my face with my hands as I drop my head against the cushion and exhale a flustered breath.

Leah will be my end; I just know it.

No sooner does the thought manifest, she opens the door, wrapped in nothing but a short white towel, and strolls across the room toward the bed. Her long, dark hair is in a messy bun. And my cock’s reaction is instant.

It’s the effect she’s going for. Purposely fucking with me. While she looks like she’s idly going about a routine, there’s tension in her movements. They’re calculated.

Leaning my elbows on my knees, I give her exactly what she wants and drink her in, from her perfectly manicured toes and tanned legs to the edges of every delicious curve where parts of her shoulders are still dotted with water droplets. My dick pushes painfully against the seam of my zipper as I imagine how soft and warm her skin must feel, fresh from a shower.

The urge to taste her, to run my tongue over every inch of her body, forces me to my feet before I realize I’m even moving.

“I hope you like to sleep on the floor, Mikki,” she says, tone brimming with malice as she loosens the towel and lets it drift to the floor. Without a second glance in my direction, she climbs into the bed and slips under the sheets.

Goddamn her.

“You mind flipping the lights. I’m exhausted.”

Within a breath, I’m at the bedside and catch the stiffness in her shoulders when she feels my presence at her back, sliding in behind her.

“You’re playing games, pretty girl, as if you don’t understand the bigger picture.”

She shivers when my words reach her, mouth brushing over her ear.

“You say you’re not interested, so the fact that I’m naked under here isn’t your concern.” Slipping a hand beneath the comforter, I find the curve of her hip and dig my fingers into her skin. A low whimper falls from her lips when I haul her toward me.

“Why are you naked, krasivaya devushka?” I ask, like the masochist fuck I am.

“You know why,” she whispers, then pushes her ass into my erection. “We’re alone...miles away from reality.” Leah guides my hand to her breast and squeezes, coaxing me to do the same —not that I need motivation. “Touch me.”

There’s no turning back once I have her again.

“Leah...” I rasp, pressing her closer until the contact is nearly painful, both physically and emotionally. I’m punishing myself as a reminder that she isn’t mine to keep, just as she wasn’t four years ago.

“Don’t call me Leah. I know I mean more to you than that.”

“Of course you do.”

She relaxes, letting her body mold against mine, and I kiss on her shoulder.

“Do I?”

“I can’t have you...because I’ll never let go.”

“You’re a coward, Mikhail,” she says with a slight shake in her voice as she flips to face me.

Tears distort her beautiful brown eyes.

I use my thumb to gently tug at her bottom lip where it’s tucked tightly between her teeth, as if choking back a sob. “Pretty girl, don’t cry.”

“I’m so stupid. I thought maybe after four years, things would be different. But you’re a disgrace to your name.”

Her words cut deeper than any physical pain I’ve ever endured.

CHAPTER 12

LEAH

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