Page 7 of If I Were Yours

A prickling sensation makes me drift my gaze up to meet a dark set of eyes set below thick brows.

How long has he been watching me?His eyes are focused on me, sharp and awake, like he’s been doing it for a while.

Tentatively, I curl my fingers on top of his chest, suddenly feeling too intimate about pressing my palm to his skin. Moving a hand onto mine, Grigory flattens it again, trapping it between his heart and his palm.

I suck in a loud breath and bite my lower lip.

Grigory holds my eyes for an intense moment, the intimacy swirling potently in the air, drugging my mind and tickling my skin.

“Are you hungry?” he finally asks.

“Uhm, maybe.” I haven’t woken enough to feel the need yet.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He releases my hand to reach for his phone on the nightstand. “Is there any good pizza nearby?”

I glance at the clock on his phone. It’s only ten. “Pizza for breakfast?”

“Technically, it’s only breakfast for me. And as long as I start the day with coffee, I don’t care what comes next.” He taps away on his phone with one hand, holding me close with the other.

So, he’s a coffee fanatic. I was beginning to gather that, but it’s good to have it confirmed. It’s less good that I only have Markus’s instant coffee in the kitchen. I doubt Grigory will like that.

Grigory has already Googled his way to the best pizza place in the area when I break from my coffee musings.

“What kind of pizza do you like?” he asks.

“Hawaiian.”

Cocking a brow, he looks down at me. “Pineapple on pizza?”

I shrug. “It’s always been my favorite.”

“Well, to each their own.” Grigory ruffles my hair and hits up the place to order a Hawaiian and a Capricciosa.

I’m about to get out of bed when he puts his phone away, but he quickly hauls me back under the comforter. “We still have half an hour,” he murmurs against my hair as he nestles me into a little spoon against him.

I can definitely do half an hour more of this, so I sink into him, enjoying his warmth and letting the peaceful quiet envelop us.

***

Sleep drags me under, far away from reality, into murkywaterswhere monsters lurk and chaos reigns.

Sounds coming from the hall pull me back toward the surface, but I remain stuck in the murk, unable to gauge whether it’s a dream or reality.

Somehow, I know I’m back home. It’s not my eyes that let me know where I am, though. They remain glued shut, refusing to open.

Actually,mywhole body is sluggish to the point of numbness. My mind is the only thing reaching for the real world, yet it can’t quite get there.

The mattress.That’s what tells me I’m back home. It’s springier than Markus’s. Or maybe it’s the inherent scent of something soft and flowery that I only notice when I’ve been away for days.

The sounds in the hall jump to the forefront of my mind. Voices. Two. Male.

Fear coils in my gut. No one should be here.I’ve left Markus.I can’t remember how or where I went to see him this time, but I feel it in my bones, the remnants of our goodbye.

How did they even get in? I always lock my door.

I try to hone in on the sound, but my senses are dull, refusing to shrug off the veil of sleep.

Maybe it’s just a nightmare?

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