Page 47 of Sergei
and the feeling of your mouth still lingers on mine.
Like a temptation meant just for me.
My lips rememberthe way you claimed them.
Like I was yours.
Like I have always been yours.
Your scent clings to me.
It’s settled deep in my skin.
I breathe it in, and I am lost again.
I’m caughtbetween the woman I was
and the one you pulled from the ashes.
Forever more.
I should be afraid,
but I am not.
I feel alive in a way I never have before.
I stareddown at the poem, hoping that the words would quiet the thoughts in my head. They didn’t. Instead, they only seemed to taunt me. There was no denying it. Sergei’s kiss had left an ache, and with every line I wrote, I felt like I was living it again.
His mouth crashed down on mine hard enough to steal my breath. His hands were possessive and firm, like he’d been holding back for far too long. Even now, I could feel his arms around me, his lips pressed against mine, and God help me, it made me want to kiss him again. When he stepped back and broke the embrace, he looked down at me with fire in his eyes. The man was holding on by a string, and I wanted nothing more than to yank it, forcing him to let go of his restraint and kiss me once more.
I wanted to be in his arms and feel his heart beat against mine. I couldn’t believe I actually wanted such things. I didn’t even know it was possible. I thought Alek had taken all of my wants and desires and crushed them with his cruelty and rules. I thought they no longer existed, and yet, here I was.
Unraveled in ways I never dreamed possible.
It scared me, but underneath the fear was something stronger.
Longing.
It was a dangerous thought. I knew that, but it didn’t stop that ache in my chest. There was only one person who could help with that, but he wasn’t here.
He’d left well before I’d gotten up, and he hadn’t done that in weeks. And there was no note. No coffee. No toast. Nothing waiting for me in the kitchen. There wasn’t even a hint of his cologne lingering in the air. He’d been gone for hours, and I had no clue where he was or when he’d be back.
One hour stretched into the next, and before I knew it, dinner had come and gone. Something was wrong, and I knew exactly what it was. I’d followed Sergei to his bedroom. I’d heard hisrant. He thought kissing me was a mistake. That it was too soon. I wanted to open the door and tell him face to face that he was wrong, but I couldn’t find the courage to step into the bathroom.
All I could do was whisper through the doorway and hope he heard me. And even then, I didn’t stick around to find out. Now, I was left wondering if that was a mistake. It was a thought that had me going to see Bog.
He was sitting at his desk near the front door, watching the security footage. His eyes skirted over to me as I approached. “Have you heard anything from Sergei?”
“He’s working.”
“Where?” I pushed. “Is he at the casino or is he doing something else?”
“He’ll be home when he can.”
His expression was hard and cold, leaving no room for argument. The disappointment hit me harder than I expected. I had more questions, but I didn’t bother wasting my breath. I simply gathered up my things and carried them into the bedroom.
I sketched for a while, but it did little to help me clear my head. Everything I drew came back to him. His eyes. His mouth. His hands. Eventually, I put them to the side and curled up in bed. The next morning, there was still no sign of Sergei. I didn’t bother asking Bog where he was. I knew he’d just put me off, so I made myself some coffee and slipped off to the living room.
