Page 103 of Porcelain Lies

Now.

But her next cry hits me square in the chest. The terror in her voice — it reminds me of myself at 10, watching my mother vanish. Of finding her empty room, knowing she’d never return.

“Please, no…” Stella’s voice breaks on a sob.

My resolve crumbles. I push the door open, moving silently into her room.

What the fuck are you doing, dolboyob?

Moonlight spills across her bed, illuminating her thrashing shape. Her face twists in anguish, tears tracking down her cheeks. The sight hits me harder than I could expect.

She twists in the sheets, fighting invisible demons. “Don’t leave me…” The words tear from her throat, raw with grief.

My feet carry me to her bedside. I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t witness this private pain. But my hand reaches out. My fingers brush her shoulder. She flinches, curling tighter into herself. Another sob wracks her frame.

“Shh,zaychik…” The sound escapes me before I can catch it. “You’re safe.”

Her breathing hitches. I should leave. Now. Before she wakes. Before this moment of weakness fucks everything up.

But her hand finds mine in the darkness, gripping tight. The contact burns through me, melting what’s left of my resistance. When the sheet slides down her chest, there’s no doubt about what I’m going to do next.

I ease onto the bed, keeping my movements slow and controlled. Stella’s fingers tighten around mine, her breath catching. Even in sleep, her body recognizes me.

The mattress dips beneath my weight. She turns toward me, seeking warmth. My free hand traces her jaw, following the curve down to her throat. Her pulse flutters beneath my touch.

“Zaychik…” The endearment slips out again. Her skin is silk under my fingertips, tempting me to explore further. I trace the line of her collarbone, memorizing each dip and hollow.

She sighs, pressing closer. She’s still in the clothing she arrived in. The thin fabric of her shirt does nothing to hide her curves. My hand slides lower, following the swell of her breast. Her nipple pebbles beneath my palm.

Her back arches, offering herself up. Even in sleep, she knows what she wants. What we both want.

I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t touch her like this. But her unconscious trust undoes me. The way she melts into my touch… It’s instinctive.

Her leg hooks over mine, drawing me closer. The heat of her pussy presses against my thigh. My control fractures.

I capture her mouth, swallowing her soft moan. Her lips part instantly, welcoming me. She tastes of mint and soft, needy woman.

Her hands find my shoulders, nails digging in as she pulls me closer. The pain grounds me, reminds me this is real.

I break the kiss to trace her jaw, her throat. She tilts her head back, offering more access. My teeth graze her pulse point, and she gasps.

“Aleksei…” My name falls from her lips again, but different this time. Awake. Aware.

I capture her mouth again, gentler this time. Her lips are soft, yielding. The lingering salt of tears mixes with her natural sweetness. My hand cradles her face, thumb brushing away the wetness on her cheeks.

She stirs beneath me, consciousness seeping in. Her breath catches as awareness floods her system. For a moment, she stiffens.

“Shh,” I murmur against her lips. “Ya zdes’. I’m here.”

Her body relaxes, melting into mine. Her fingers trail up my chest, exploring. Testing. When they tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, something inside me sparks.

Her mouth opens under mine and I trace her lower lip with my tongue, savoring her quiet gasp. When I delve inside, she meets me stroke for stroke.

The kiss deepens, grows hungrier. Her nails scrape my scalp, sensations rippling at the contact. My hand slides to her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my palm.

She pushes herself against me. The soft curves of her body fit perfectly against my harder planes. Her mound grinds against the hard line of my cock, and a growl builds in my chest. My usual iron control slips, need taking over.

Her fingers tug at my shirt, urgent and needy. I help her pull it off, tossing it aside. Her hands explore my chest, tracing the lines of my tattoos.

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