Page 3 of Endless Love

Everything he says seems to come out haltingly, as if he doesn’t really want to say any of it. As if he’s struggling to tell me. I walk around the bed, slowly, sinking down on the edge of it as I look at him. There’s less space between us now, and I can’t help but wonder, as I sit down, if that was a good idea. Being closer means I have an even better view of his near-nudity, and it’s distracting. This close, I can see that there are beads of water on his skin still, trickling down his tattoos, making me itch to trace their path with my fingers. Or my tongue?—

Fuck. Charlotte, concentrate.

“You needed to see me,” I repeat slowly. “What does that mean, Ivan? What could have possibly been so important that it couldn’t have waited until the next day? Or that you couldn’t have texted, or called, or—” I trail off, seeing his jaw tighten. He looks away, his dark blue eyes fixed off in the distance for a moment, and then he looks back at me.

“My family is Bratva, Charlotte.”

I stare at him for a moment, not quite comprehending. “Bratva? I—what does that mean, Ivan? I don’t understand.”

“It’s—” He swallows, looking away and back again. “Like—Russian mafia. An underground criminal organization.”

“Like—inJohn Wick,or something?” I blink at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Yes, if that gives you a better frame of reference.” He reaches up, running his fingers through his still-damp hair. His muscles flex, rippling over his chest and stomach distractingly, and I glare at him.

“Could you put on a shirt?”

That all-too-familiar smirk quirks the corners of his mouth. “Why? Am I distracting you?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t just told me you were part of some Russian crime syndicate. Or your family is?—”

“I am.” The words come out flat, clipped, his jaw tightening again as if forcing them out. “That’s why I needed to talk to you, Charlotte. I needed to get you out of there. But then—” He takes a deep breath, and I stare at him, trying to comprehend what he’s saying.

“You’re telling me that you showed up to my apartment to tell me about your family—you—being part of this…Bratva. Only for you to find me being attacked by a masked man, who you what—beat up? Got me away from him somehow? And then, instead of literally anything else, you took me to some hotel, and waited for me to wake up, so you could tell me all of this?” I rub my hands over my face, burying it in them for a moment.

This is a dream. A nightmare. Someone roofied me at the bar. Any second now, I’m going to wake up in my apartment or at Jaz’s place, and I’m going to realize that none of this is real. It’s going to all be okay.

I count to five, and drop my hands. When I do, Ivan is still standing there.

Frustratingly, he’s also still in nothing but the towel.

“Please, put some clothes on.” I look at him helplessly, and he smirks, shrugging as he pushes away from the doorframe and turns, dropping the towel as he does so.

“Ivan.”

He ignores me. I stare at him, helpless tonotlook at the muscled curve of his ass, where the tattoo on his back ends just at the top of the muscle, trailing down slightly over the sides, or at his thick cock, hanging between his equally muscled thighs, slightly swollen as if this conversation is turning him on.

He glances over at me as he takes his boxer briefs off of the pile of clothes, and his cock twitches, stiffening a little. My cheeks flush as I look away sharply, my pulse suddenly beating harder in my throat, a tingle running over my skin all the way down between my thighs, tightening my nipples as it goes.

I know how good his cock feels. I know how goodallof him feels. But I refuse to be distracted—any more than I already am, anyway.

“There.” Ivan clears his throat, and I look back to see him dressed in a pair of tight black jeans, frayed at the cuffs and pockets, with a short-sleeved, cream-colored henley. He shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorframe again. “Can we talk about this now, Charlotte?”

I swallow hard, still blushing as I nod. “This is crazy, Ivan,” I whisper, and he drops his gaze for a moment before looking back up at me.

“I know. But I needed to tell you. And once I saw what was happening—well, I had to get you out of there. This was a snap decision. Charlotte—my family knows about you. They know I’ve been seeing you. And I—I’m not on the best of terms with them. They’re threatening you, and?—”

“What?”I feel my eyes widen as I stare at him. “They’re—threateningme? For what, why—” I shake my head. “I don’t even want to know. Just take me home. Leave me alone, and they’ll leave me alone, too, right? I want to go home.”

When I tell him toleave me alone, I see him flinch, as if I’ve slapped him. As if the idea is unthinkable. But his face smooths just as quickly, and he shakes his head.

“I can’t do that, Charlotte. They’re almost certainly watching your apartment. As soon as I leave you there, they’ll grab you.”

It feels like everything he says clicks a moment after he says it. Like there’s a lag between his words and my mind comprehending them. I blink at him, shaking my head.

“I want to talk to Jaz,” I demand, pushing myself up off of the bed. “You have my phone, don’t you? I want to talk to her. Give me back my phone.” I’m pacing at the foot of the bed, firing off rapid demands as an increasingly helpless look crosses Ivan’s face.

“I don’t have your phone?—”

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