Page 139 of Dirty Damage

I’m in front of the full-length mirror, tugging on the first item of clothing I’ve worn in twelve hours, when Oleg emerges from the bathroom.

He’s dressed in workout clothes, but his hair is still mussed from my hands.

The sight of him makes my thighs clench.

His gaze catches mine in the mirror. Last night floods back—his hands pinning mine to the wall, his mouth on my neck, him carrying me to bed when we got back to our room so we could do it all over again.

“Sure you don’t want to join me?” He arches an eyebrow, lips curving into that devastating half-smile.

I shake my head. We both know if I go with him to the gym, we won’t be making it out of the locker room.

“Some of us are still recovering from last night.”

“Poor baby.” He moves behind me, hands settling on my hips. “I didn’t hear any complaints when you were screaming my name.”

Heat burns my cheeks. “I wasn’t screaming.”

“No?” His fingertip traces lazy circles on my hip bone. “Then maybe I should try again.”

I elbow him in the ribs and he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I like this.”

“What?”

“Us. No phones, no family drama, no business bullshit. Just you and me.”

And just like that, the world back home comes into focus.

The armed men chasing us down the street, my sister and her abuser, Drew and his burner phone.

I’m supposed to be getting updates about Sydney every week, but it’s been two since I last checked.

Guilt smacks me sideways, but Oleg seems oblivious to my inner turmoil. “We should stay another week. Maybe a month. Fuck everything else.”

I force a smile. “Your mother would hunt us down.”

“Worth it.” He drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Back in an hour. Feel free to be naked.”

The door shuts behind him and I count to thirty, heart thundering.

Then I’m diving for the closet, yanking open my backpack, fingers trembling as I dig out the phone I almost didn’t bring with me.

I was afraid Oleg would find it, but there hasn’t been any chance of that because I haven’t even been checking it.

What kind of selfish, sex-obsessed sister am I?

I power on the phone, drumming my fingers nervously as the screen lights up. And…

Fuck.

Eleven missed calls. Three messages.

DREW:Something went down between Sydney and Paul.

DREW:I’m taking Syd away so that Paul can cool down. Why aren’t you picking up?

DREW:Where the fuck are you? Sydney needs you, Sutton!

My hands shake as I hit call.

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