Page 11 of Ascendent
In the limo, Sergey slouched against the back seat, his cheeks aching from all the smiles, all the laughter. He rolled his head on the black leather and gazed at Sasha.
Sasha had a small smile on his face. “I have never done that.”
“Gone to a hockey game?”
“That too. I meant gone on a date.” He slid his hand across the seat, opening his palm between them.
Like a child offered candy, Sergey reached for Sasha, almost embarrassed at his own blunt desire, his obvious thrill at simply holding Sasha’s hand. He wrapped his long fingers around Sasha’s thick palm and watched Sasha swallow, watched a tendril of fear slide back into Sasha’s eyes. But he kept their hands joined. Kept their gazes connected. Kept holding on.
Sergey spoke softly, just above a whisper. “You said earlier that if I was not the president, and this was not Russia, you would…” He trailed off. Lights from Moscow’s Red Square, the GUM mall, slid over them both, washing the limo in painted neon. “What were you going to say?”
Sasha squeezed his hand painfully hard. Light spilled down Sasha’s face, melted in swirls and drops over his skin. “I would do this. And I would never let go.”
Sergey’s breath hitched.
“I would—” Sasha breathed in, a sharp inhale. “I would take you to the ends of the Earth, like Jack and Ethan. And I would—”
Sergey yanked him close, pressing their lips together, kissing Sasha like he’d dreamed of doing every single night Sasha had been gone. Sasha squirmed, grunting and trying to stifle all sound, trying to press closer and trying to disappear. He grabbed Sergey’s jacket and yanked them together. Tried to lean away. Squeezed his eyes shut like he was in pain and surged in, deepening the kiss.
The limo turned. Slowed. Bumped over the cobblestones of the Kremlin.
Sasha flew back, pressing against the door, as far from Sergey as he could get. He stared at Sergey, wild like a trapped animal, panicked and terrified and caught.
Please, don’t try to push.All Sasha wanted, all he’d asked for, was for Sergeynotto push him, not push this. It was the only thing he wanted, patience and control, and Sergey had promised he would give it.
Could he not contain himself for even a moment? Was Sasha right to worry and fret, to fear and run away? Fuck, had he lost everything? One kiss in the darkness in the backseat? Was that enough to undo it all?
Apologies fell from his lips, pleas and whispers and curses in one breathless string. Sasha didn’t move.
What would his security team say? They were right there, sharing the same car, looming in the front seat behind the glass privacy partition. Had they seen? How had he ever thought he could keep his love for Sasha secret from them? They were his own shadows. They would knoweverything.
What next?Govno, what next?
Would Sasha leave?
The limo rolled to a stop. Sergey heard his security team’s boots on the pavement, heard their low voices. Were they talking about them? Discussing who to call? Who to alert? Was this the beginning of the end?
The door opened, and his lead security agent held out his hand. “Mr. President? Mr. Andreyev? We’ve arrived. You’re home.”
* * *
Sasha hadn’t spokensince the limo, since the kiss. He’d followed Sergey back to Sergey’s apartment, stubbornly staying two paces behind Sergey the entire way. When they’d arrived, he’d headed straight for the sitting room, staring into the fireplace and the crackling flames. Shadows of his shoulders loomed along the walls. His silence, his censure, ate at Sergey’s soul.
Sergey leaned into the doorjamb to the sitting room and hung his head. “Sashunya,I’m sorry. You asked for privacy, for space, and I…” Sighing, his hand fell, slapping his thigh. “I’m sorry.”
Sasha’s back stared at Sergey. A log shifted in the fireplace. Sparks billowed. Sergey watched Sasha’s shoulders rise and fall. He was as knowable as a painting frozen in time, a portrait washed in all the colors of rage.
“I’ll do better. I promise,” Sergey said. “Don’t leave.”
Sasha looked down, his gaze cratering to the floor, his chin striking the center of his chest. His shoulders rose and fell again, a deep, heavy breath.
“Why don’t you sleep in the bedroom tonight?” Sergey said again. “I’ll sleep out here on the couch. You deserve to be comfortable.” He tugged at his scarf, pulling the red fabric from his neck and winding it around his hand, balling it until he couldn’t see the clenched knuckles of his shaking fist.
“I thought the point,” Sasha rumbled, “was that we were trying to be together.” He frowned, one hand moving from the couch to the darkness of the apartment and Sergey’s bedroom. “That is hardly together.”
Six steps took him to Sasha’s side. His hand hovered over Sasha’s elbow. He didn’t know if he was allowed to touch him, allowed to pop the steel-laden bubble that had enveloped Sasha so completely.
Sasha swayed into Sergey’s orbit, then back. His eyes closed, pinched hard. Frown lines made canyons across his forehead. “Don’t push,Seryozha. Please… You can’t push this.”
