Page 120 of Unsteady

I laugh with him now, but my eyes never leave his face even as he tilts his head back and smiles again.

“And nothing—no dark part of you, or your life, will ever change that. So, like I told Oliver, if you don't want me anymore, that’s something I’ll have to deal with. But there willneverbe a day that I do not want you.”

He’s walked to the side of the bed now, towering me where I sit, my fingers twisting around the blankets. He leans down and grasps my chin gently. “Tell me you understand.”

“I do.”

He nods. “Good.”

My mouth opens for a moment, like I might say it back, but then I just leave it there. Gaping like a fish out of water.

He uses the moment to kiss my bottom lip, sucking it softly between his lips and teeth. Our foreheads press together as he sits on the bed, closing me in the comfort of his warmth.

“You don’t need to say anything right now, okay? I can love you enough for the both of us.”

“For now,” I blurt.

He smiles, and I can see the glimmer in his warm eyes now. That he understands the words I’ve given are a promise.

“For now,kotyonok.”

“You ever gonna tell me what that word means?”

“Maybe one day,” he says before pushing me back into the mattress and pressingI love youinto every inch of my skin while he makes love to me, soft and sweet and slow.

After, he asks for my little Bluetooth speaker, setting it on the bed between us. The big window over my bed leaks moonlight over his naked skin like it’s bathing him in the glow.

While he fumbles for his phone, I lean forward and kiss and nip at his neck again.

Two clicks, and then music plays. A song I know well, but not one from my playlists.

Brandi Carlisle’s voice is soft, the pluck of the guitar strings slow and gentle, as Rhys Koteskiy plays “Heaven” through the suddenly soft speakers in my room.

“It’s my song for you.” The automatic response is to stop him there. Convince him that he shouldn’t have a song for me. Especially not this one.

But his face is so open, every muscle relaxed, and Idobelieve him. That he loves me.

There’s a boyish innocence on his face as if he didn’t just fuck me slow into the mattress with his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, before he asks, “Do you have one for us?”

Only a million, I want to say.

But Rhys Koteskiy could never be confined to just one song—he’s a symphony, a never ending playlist that I want to repeat forever.

“I’ll think of one,” I say, curling into his skin.

He’s burned into me, I think, like a brand.

I’ll never recover from him.

FORTY-ONE

SADIE

I look beautiful.

Rora found the dress, though she refused to tell me where, but it fits like a glove. Black silk down to my ankles with a single slit to mid-thigh. Just enough to be sexy without being indecent.

My best friend slaved over my hair while I did my makeup, slicking it all back into a bun, letting two tendrils hang from the front and frame my face. I still sport my usual dark cherry lips and smoky eyes, but it’s more regal. Less competition Sadie. More like Rhys’ Gray.

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