Page 34 of The Crimson Lily
“When did you come to America?”
I turn around and notice a glass of whiskey has magically appeared in his hands. I see the bottle on the coffee table, probably one he took with him.
“We moved in 1994,” he replies.
I take a guess and estimate Maksim’s age to be between thirty-three and thirty-six years old. I feel a spark of glee igniting in my veins. Slowly, I’m getting to know Maksim a little more. The man who’s like a beautiful riddle to me.
“So…what is this place?” I ask, way too curious.
He takes a sip and exhales deeply, enjoying this moment of calm. “This is our vacation home.”
“Wow!” I exclaim. “You must come from a rich family. How did you end up with the Bratva?” I have so many more questions, but I decide to leave them unasked after seeing an aggravated look appear on his face.
When he’s done with his whiskey, he goes to grab my suitcase in the hallway and heads upstairs. I follow him, stopping at each painting, each trinket that hangs along the way. He takes me to the largest bedroom, in which there is a king-size bed with emerald pillows underneath the protective sheets he removes. There’s a huge oak closet, and a carpet that looks more expensive than that closet. The walls are painted with a light shade of pink. The view beyond the two large windows facing the bed simply takes my breath away. I stand there, speechless, awed by Paris, the Eiffel Tower, and its million lights.
“You should sleep,” Maksim says from behind me.
It isn’t dark yet; the sun has just begun its descent. I deduce that from the golden color of the sky.
“It’s still too early to sleep,” I murmur, amazed by the view.
“You were attacked, Liliana. You need to get some rest.”
I was attacked.Those words send cold shivers down my spine. I almost lost my life today, but Maksim saved me. That’s the only thing I care about right now.
I turn around, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms again. “You killed two men,” I say.
He approaches me, cautiously, as if he doesn’t want to touch me. But I want him to, so I take a step closer to him. My lips come within his reach—he just has to lean forward. His eyes spark with a silver glimmer when he lays his gaze on me.
“You should really sleep,” he says in a hungry grunt. His lips are open, and I can hear him breathe.
I don’t wait anymore; I go in for a kiss. I stand on my toes, wrap my arms around his neck, and press my lips against his. Within seconds, his hands pull up my shirt and settle on the arch of my back. He hauls me in against him, returning my kiss like never before. However, as he leaves my lips to dive into my neck, he abruptly looks away and emits a low, longing growl.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, worried.
“You’re in a weak state, Liliana,” he replies. “If you let me fuck you, I might do even more damage.”
I shake my head and frown a little. “Just go slow…”
He grunts. “I don’t go slow.”
Maksim turns his back to me, but I don’t want him to go.
“I can take it,” I assert, nodding furtively, as if I’m trying to convince myself in the process. “Just do it how you want it.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, his back to me.
“Yes.”
His shoulders relax, and he walks to the door. “Follow me.”
Maksim takes me to a different, smaller room, one with pastel-blue walls and a smaller bed. By the nightstand is a little figurine of a plane. A Concorde, the supersonic plane that stopped flyingalmost twenty years ago. This must have been his room in a different life. The furniture looks modern and much more suited to the needs of…a teenager. When was the last time Maksim has set foot in this place?
Before I can ask the question, he catches my shoulders and pulls me in for a passionate kiss. He bites my lower lip, then releases my mouth for a second so he can slide my shirt along my arms. I undo my bra in a flurry while he takes off his shirt and exposes his athletic chest to me. I immediately seek refuge back in his arms. He kisses me again for a minute, venturing down my neck, returning to my lips. He pushes me slightly so I fall onto his bed. I look up, expecting him to crawl on top of me next, but a little anxious to know how bad this could get—because he warned me. He could damage me even more. My head started to spin the minute I landed on the bed. And it’s not a gentle spin. My eyes begin to roll out of their orbit.
His hand catches my face and forces me to look at him. He’s clenching my cheeks with a firm grip; I don’t know why. His blue eyes flash silver.
“You’re being irresponsible,” he says and releases me.
