Page 8 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
We collapse together, his weight pinning me down and his lips trailing lazy, possessive kisses along my jaw.
I’m shaking from the extreme explosion of pleasure, completely wrecked. And I love it. Sergei leans back, brushing damp strands of hair from my face, his blue eyes still hungry.
“Still think it’s a good idea to tease me?” he murmurs.
I smirk, my body already aching for more.
“Absolutely.” I sigh, completely sated. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”
His gaze darkens. “Then I hope you’re ready for round two.”
Later, the room is quiet except for the sound of my own breathing. The heat between us has settled, the urgency of our lovemaking replaced by something calmer. But my body is still thrumming, still tingling with the aftershocks of Sergei’s touch.
I’m exhausted and satisfied, but something unsettling stirs in my chest. I blink up at the ceiling, my pulse slowly returning to normal as I listen to the faint rustling of fabric.
Sergei is already getting dressed.
I don’t know why that surprises me. I didn’t walk into this thinking he’d be anything more than a one-night stand. The best fucking one-night stand I’ve ever had, but nothing deeper than that. Our entire dinner was basically foreplay. I don’t even remember if he told me his last name.
The point is, we never made any promises to each other. I might become a nun after this. No one else will ever remotely compare to the way he thoroughly pleasured me.
Still, as I roll onto my side and watch him pull on his shirt, a strange feeling twists in my stomach. He moves with ease, like this is routine for him. Like he’s done this a hundred times before. Maybe he has. Maybe he thinks I’m the kind of girl who does this all the time too.
The truth is much more pathetic than that.
I shouldn’t care that he’s leaving, yet an ache blooms in my chest anyway.
Sergei catches me watching him and smirks, running a hand through his tousled hair. “That good, eh?”
I snort, reaching for the sheet and pulling it up over my chest. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I quip. “I’ve had better.”
His grin deepens, those ice-blue eyes flickering with amusement. He smirks. “If you say so.” His eyes sparkle; he knows he just shifted my entire world.
I shake my head but don’t argue; we both know he’s right. It was that good. Singular, unrepeatable. But I’m not about to stroke his ego. Not when it’s already massive.
Sergei finishes buttoning his shirt before reaching for his watch on the nightstand. I hadn’t even seen him take it off, so lost in my own desire. He fastens it with practiced ease, every movement effortless and controlled.
Watching him slip back into his real life—whatever that might be—hollows me out. The bed already feels cold, and he hasn’t even fully left it yet.
He turns to me, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “Well,malyshka,I hope I’ve proved that not all men are spineless idiots,” he jokes, recalling our earlier text exchange from last night.
I force a smile, though I feel the tell-tale signs of sadness forming in the pit of my stomach. “You definitely proved what a strong spine you have.” I wink at him.
His lips twitch, and for a second I think he’ll say something else. But instead, he steps closer, leaning down until his mouth brushes against mine. It’s soft, fleeting, barely even a kiss.
It’s goodbye.
Then he’s gone. The door clicks shut behind him, and just like that, the heat, the presence, the intensity of him all evaporate, like the air has been sucked out of the room. In its place I’m left alone only with my thoughts.
I stare up at the ceiling, my heart still pounding even though the reason for it is gone. I don’t know how long I lie there, tangled in the sheets, Sergei’s scent still lingering on my skin.
What the hell just happened?
I don’t do this. I don’t bring strangers home. I don’t let myself get carried away by impulse. I don’t lose my head over a guy I met less than twenty-four hours ago.
I didn’t even sleep with my last boyfriend until we’d been dating for a few months. And even if my date hadn’t stood me up last night, there was no way I was going to sleep with him on the first date. So what was it about Sergei that made me so desperate to throw all caution to the wind?
I groan, throwing an arm over my face. None of this even matters. I’ll never see him again, and I’m okay with that.
