Page 47 of 10 Days to Surrender

What if?

My thighs graze his ribs as I shift. They remember what I’ve tried so, so hard to forget: the way we used to move together, greedy and gasping.

Three things happen at once:

Rain patters against the surface where our bodies don’t touch.

The twins kick—a frantic flutter beneath his palm.

Sasha’s breath gusts hot against my ear. “I thought… Christ, I thought I’d never get to…”

And then his mouth is on mine.

Slow. So fucking slow. Like we’ve got all the time in the world, not a lie or bullet or an ocean between us. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, gentle where he was once rough, coaxing where he used to take. When I groan, he swallows the sound like communion. Urgent fingers tangle in my hair, tilting my head back as he deepens the kiss.

I surrender. I let myself melt into the solid heat of him, into the dizzying familiarity. His taste brings back a dozen nights just like this. Bathrooms and dressing rooms and his penthouse sheets. He’d bite my neck to tether me to him when I got too close, the growl ofmine mine mineas I came…

Then I tear my mouth away. “Stop.”

He doesn’t. His lips chart a desperate path down my throat. Teeth scrape the hollow.

I shove hard against his shoulders. “I saidstop!”

That does the trick. His grip loosens instantly. We stare at each other, panting. Spring water laps at the fresh bruises we’ve carved into each other’s skin.

He looks wrecked. Hair wild from my fingers. Scar flushed crimson. “Ari?—”

“No. This is… this is bad, Sasha. You lost the right to touch me when you lied.”

His throat bobs. I watch the apology die before it’s born.

Rain sheets down in earnest now, sluicing over his scarred torso. Over the ghosts of us twined together in the steam.

Without another word, he turns and climbs from the pool. I watch him dress, every movement tight with restraint.

I sink until sulfur fills my nostrils. The heat burns away the salt of his kiss on my cheeks.

The crunch of his receding footsteps fades into the storm. I know he hasn’t gone far, but at least he’s out of sight for now.

Only then can I let myself sob.

For the man I kissed.

For the man he became.

For all the shattered pieces of us still littering the four thousand miles between here and a place called home.

19

SASHA

The path has turned to soup beneath our feet. Each step threatens to slide out from under us as rain lashes sideways, turning the world into goopy smears of gray and green. My bullet wound pounds with every movement, but I can’t focus on that. Not when she’s storming ahead in that fucking sundress, hair plastered to her neck

I watch her slip on the muddy path again, my hands twitching with the need to steady her. But I can’t. Won’t. Not after what just happened in the springs.

The kiss haunts me with each step. Because it was so easy to do. She melted against me, her lips soft and yielding, and for as long as it lasted, I fooled myself into thinking that maybe it wouldn’t ever stop.

But it did. Of course it did.

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