Page 8 of Endless Love

That makes sense now, too.

I grip the edges of the sink, feeling more and more like a fool with each realization. I don’t know how I could have ever come to the conclusion that he was a part of some Russian crime syndicate, and yet?—

Now that I know, I need to get away. It doesn’t matter that he makes me see stars when he touches me or that I feel more alive than I ever have before when we’re together. It doesn’t matter that I’m going to think about the way it feels when he touches me for the rest of my life, or that that life feels horribly dull and mediocre now compared to the thrill I feel right now, looking at myself unkempt and flushed in the mirror.

Ivan is a drug. An addiction that he’s gotten me hooked on, and with every hit, I’ll sink deeper into the mire of this world that he’s already started to drag me down into. I need to get out, while I still can.

Swallowing hard, I unlock the bathroom door, looking out into the bedroom. Ivan is lying atop the duvet, head pillowed on his arm, still naked and fast asleep. I can’t help but think that, like that, he looks younger, even with all his carved muscles on display, swirled with black ink. He looks more innocent, and it’s hard to believe that this man is a criminal. That he’s done thingsI can’t begin to let myself imagine. Things I won’t ever really know the truth of, because I need to leave.

And I need to leavenow.

If I can get out of the room while he’s still asleep, I can run somewhere. I don’t know if whoever is at the front desk of this hotel will help me, but someone will. I can get to a restaurant or a gas station, and beg to use the phone. I can call 911, or maybe I can find a police station?—

And do what?The thought of turning Ivan in, makes my chest ache. But he said he was working for the FBI. If that’s true, then maybe they’ll go easy on him. Maybe he won’t get in trouble, if I tell them that he was trying to protect me from the same people he’s working with them against. That I just need to get home.

Ivan doesn’t stir as I carefully pad out of the bathroom, stepping lightly across the carpet. I crouch down where he shoved his jeans off just before we had sex the second time, reaching into the pocket. It takes three tries before I find the one that has the keycard to the hotel room in it, and I slip it out, hoping that it will unlock the door from the inside, overriding whatever that little black box does.

Barely breathing, I tiptoe to the door, not bothering to get my shoes. They’re on the other side of the bed, close to Ivan, and I’m afraid I’ll wake him if I try to get them. I’ll just have to make a run for it barefoot.

I can barely breathe as I turn my back on him. I hold up the keycard to the door, waiting for the click—and just as I hear that small grinding sound that tells me the door is unlocked, I feel an iron grip around my other wrist.

On instinct, I yank away, dropping the keycard as I slam my free hand down against the door handle and shove the door open. It opens, but just a crack as I feel Ivan’s hard, naked body cage mine in as he grabs the handle and slams it shut again.

I flail, trying to open it once more, but he wheels me away from it, pushing me face-forward against the other wall in a hilarious parody of someone being patted down by a cop. Or at least, later, it will be hilarious.

Right now, I’m torn between impotent fury that I was so close to escaping, and frustrated distraction by the fact that I can feel every inch of his body pressed against mine…naked. I can almost feel him searing hot through my clothes.

“Charlotte.” His voice is calm, hard, brooking no argument—which just makes me want to fight him all the more. “We talked about this.”

“No.” I buck against him, and he chuckles, grinding his hips closer to my ass. I can feel him getting hard again, and a flush of heat washes over me.Ignore it, Charlotte. Don’t end up in bed with him again.“Youtalked about this. I told you I wanted to go home. And?—”

“And, what?” His mouth is close to my ear, his breath warm against the shell of it, and I can feel desire pooling warmly in my blood. “And, wait for my brothers to come, and kidnap you all over again? But this time, with much less pleasant results.” There’s a thread of anger in his voice, and I realize, with a shiver that runs down my spine, that it’s because of me. He’s frustrated withme, maybe even on the verge of getting angry with me, and somehow, that adds to that warm feeling spreading through my veins.

It makes me wonder what it would feel like for him to fuck me when he’s angry. To take it all out on me. What I would do ifIfuckedhimangry. I’ve never had angry sex before. I’ve never been that angry with someone, or them with me, and still wanted them.

I wonder what that says about the relationships I’ve been in. And I know the answer almost immediately, even though I don’t want to admit it.

They’ve all been bland. Boring. Relationships that check off boxes and look good on paper, but lack desire.Passion. Things that I didn’t understand until Ivan showed them to me.

But that doesn’t mean that what we’re doing is good, or right.

“Or maybe you were going to go to the cops,” he continues. “And find out what they could do for you. I promise you, Charlotte, that there are two options. Either they’re already in my father’s pockets, or they won’t be able to protect you from him.”

“So, what?” I buck against him, still trying to get free, and immediately regret it. I can feel how hard he is, pressing against me, and I think with another shiver of his finger sliding inside of me earlier, somewhere that I’ve never let anyone touch me before. I shove it away, hard. “Am I just supposed to go on the run with you?”

“No,” he says shortly, the word clipped. It sounds angry, almost as if he doesn’t want that, and I wonder why.Is it because he does, and can’t? But why not? He’s taken everything else he wants, so far.“I have a plan. But we need to get moving. I’m going to make a call.”

He lets go of me, shoving himself away from both me and the wall, and for a brief moment, I feel my stomach drop, regretting the loss of the feeling of him against me. I want him there, more than I should.

Before I can try to grab the keycard again, Ivan bends down, scooping it off of the carpet. “Nice try,” he tells me, a little of that humor back in his voice. “You almost made it. But it wouldn’t have done you any good.”

That cold certainty in his voice makes my stomach swoop. I turn to face him, staring as I wrap my arms around myself, and for the first time since I woke up, his nudity doesn’t distract me. I’m too focused on those last words and what they mean.

“What’s your plan?” I manage, and Ivan ignores me for a moment, pulling his clothes back on.

“I’ll tell you in the car,” he says finally, shoving the keycard in his pocket. “I’ve got burners in there; I’m going to go use one of those to make the call. I’ll come get you in a few minutes. Don’t bother trying to get out again,” he adds. “You won’t have any luck, and you’ll just hurt yourself going out the window.”

He already thought of everything, then. It makes me feel embarrassed, remembering the minutes I spent frantically looking for an escape after I woke up. It wasnevergoing to do me any good.

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