Page 82 of Pretty Little Toy

It’s a relief to know Nicolo would take such quick action, surprising as it is that he would be willing to work with my men to get the job done. He must have been very convincing to get them to rally behind him.

But it bothers me that I could have been so certain the Temkin were all dead only to have them gun me down on a public street just a day later. It leaves me unsettled. I’m starting to wonder if they might not be more like a hydra. Cut one head off, and two more grow back. But I don’t need to worry Whitney now. She looks almost frail with the stress she’s been under for the past… well, I don’t know how many days.

“How long was I out?”

“Nearly a week.”

The worry in her voice makes my chest squeeze painfully. I comb my fingers through the dark wisps of hair along her temple, and she leans into the contact.

“Have you slept at all?” I ask gently. I already suspect the answer, but I want to know just how much she’s been through while I’ve been lying here, useless, apparently on death’s door.

An adorable blush colors Whitney’s cheeks as her gaze drops with embarrassment. “Anya forced me to go home the first night to take a shower and change into clean clothes, but since then, I’ve been sleeping here, just hoping you would wake up. I didn’t want you to be alone when you did.” Her fingers pick self-consciously at my blankets. “You were willing to die for me. It seemed the least I could do.”

I can’t restrain myself any longer. Gripping Whitney’s arms, I pull her to me, ready to kiss her senseless. The cry of pain that bursts from her stops me short, and I release her instantly, worried that I’ve done something to hurt her.

“What…?”

“I, uh… might have needed a few stitches,” she confesses. “One of the bullets just nicked me.” She pulls her shirt down over her shoulder to reveal a small patch of gauze.

I hate that she got injured because of me, even if it was just a graze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t–”

“You better not be trying to apologize for being unable to catch a ninth bullet for me, Ilya Popov,” Whitney scolds.

I can’t stop the chuckle that rumbles up from my chest, and it quickly tapers off into a groan.

“No laughing,” Whitney commands, drawing close to me as she carefully leans further onto the bed. Her lips hover above mine for just a second, and then she closes the distance, pressing them to mine and awakening my intense need once more.

I kiss her fiercely in return, crushing my lips against hers as I show just how much it means to me that she would endure sleeping in a hospital chair for a week to make sure I’m okay. I only release her when my punctured lung starts to scream for air. “I would take as many bullets for you as I must to ensure you’re safe–as many times as it proves necessary,” I rasp.

Tears brim in her eyes once more as they meet mine. “Just promise me you won’t ever die on me again,” she whispers. “Anything else I can survive. But not that.”

“Oh,lyubimaya,” I murmur, cupping her face so I can brush her tears away. “I promise I will try my hardest.” If I could I would give Whitney everything her heart desires. But in this regard, there’s no way I can be certain I keep that promise. And I won’t lie to her. My life is a dangerous one, and I will never know what day is going to be my last. All I can do is love her as best I can in the time I have.

40

WHITNEY

The tender way he kisses me this time sets my soul on fire. It’s so soft and yet so full of emotion, of passion, I can feel the love pouring out of him, and it takes my breath away. His hands explore me more gently this time, as if he’s worried he might hurt me again if he’s not careful. They travel softly up my arms and then over my shoulders, coming to rest along the back of my neck, where his fingers splay, spreading into my hair and then curling as he lightly plays with my short locks.

I can’t seem to breathe with the intensity of my longing, and it feels glorious to have Ilya alive and awake and as eager to kiss me as I have been him. It’s been torture watching him lie motionless day after day, worried he might not recover, might never wake up. Even still, so many things could go wrong, but I push them from my mind as I focus on the softness of his lips, the way his hands traverse me as if to confirm I’m real.

The way his heart monitor speeds every time our lips meet is a symphony to my ears. It’s concrete evidence that he feels what I feel, that electric connection that draws me to him inexplicably. I get lost in his kiss, my tongue twining with his in a seductive dance. It leaves me breathless, my heart racing.

Still, I’m worried about pushing him too far, too fast, and as I start to grow breathless, I pull back, sure his lungs must need relief.

“Lyubimaya?” he murmurs.

Flaming desire fills his gaze, and my body responds instinctually as my core tightens with anticipation. I don’t know what his new pet name for me is, but just the sound of it makes my skin tingle.

“Yes?”

“I know you’ve done so much for me while I’ve been unconscious this last week, but I have to ask one more thing of you.”

“Anything,” I say, glancing to his pillows to see if he might need me to adjust them or something.

“I want you to make love to me. Here. Now. we never made our relationship official after our dinner together, and I won’t wait a moment longer.”

Passion roils in his onyx eyes, making goosebumps rise on my flesh, and I want nothing more than to make love to him. But I don’t see how he could possibly be ready for it. He’s only just woken up, and his body’s been through hell this past week.

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