Page 58 of Always Yours

I have stopped dreaming and thinking of Claudius and started thinking of you. Wishing it were you covering my body with yours and holding me against you. You keep me up at night, making me wild with desire, and it’s unfair that you do it, because I don’t even think you try. I don’t even think you want me or desire me, but then you say, name the time and place? For what? And I’m pretty sure it’s not to start a book club!

What the hell is wrong with me? How could I think these things or even want to act on them? I shouldn’t be writing you this letter, but it’s how I’ve healed over the years. I write letters to the people who have hurt me, but you don’t hurt me. You’d never do such a thing.

You make me want to experience things I can’t even imagine.

You make me want to live.

But I hate you.

I do.

So, fuck you.

-A

I read the letter three more times, and each time, my grin grows wider. Her words are like a drug I could get addicted to, her thoughts a symphony to my senses, and her feelings…I want to drown in them. I fold the letter, chuckling to myself, before I take out my wallet. I slip the letter in there for safekeeping as my grin hurts my face. I chuckle to myself. “Oh, my littlesakharok, it’s game on.”

nineteen

Austen

Sakharok…sugar.

Fuck, Austen.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I have absolutely no fucking clue.”

I’m not even out of the room before the interaction is playing over and over again. The feel of him, the way his eyes burned into mine, his words, his touch… OhGod. The way Dimitri’s fingers slid beneath my rubber bands, stopping me from popping myself before he held my arms to the wall, shakes me to my core. No one has ever prevented me from popping like that. Just his touch. And even though I was reeling and freaking out, I was somehow calm. Until he said he wanted to lick me there, and then I was a goner. Which makes no sense whatsoever.

Oh my God, I’m a walking train wreck.

I rush down the hall, clutching my notebook to my chest, willing myself not to cry when, all of a sudden, Shelli turns the corner.

Damn it.

Her brows come in instantly as she takes me in. “Austen, are you okay?”

I nod, plastering on a huge, fake grin. “Absolutely. Why?”

She eyes me. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

I wave her off. “Allergies. They’re awful here…” But my words trail off when I realize she isn’t listening to me. Her gaze is behind me, and soon, I am holding my breath. I feel him walking up, I see how straight Shelli’s back goes, and the tension appears instantly. A bundle of nerves, I follow her gaze to find Dimitri walking toward us like he isn’t the least bit affected by what just happened between us. I don’t know how he isn’t on the floor in the fetal position, because that’s where I want to be for sure. I look back at Shelli, and I watch as her mouth flattens into a line. She narrows her eyes as she leans in, “Did he do something to you?”

My eyes widen. Yes, he made me feel things! “What? No!” I say quickly. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because you look like something has happened to you,” she insists, but I’m already shaking my head.

“No. I’m just having a hard day, I’m fine. He wouldn’t do anything to me,” I stress, and Dimitri approaches us, his eyes moving to mine before they fall on Shelli.

“Mrs. Brooks.” She doesn’t say anything, she just glares, so he stops. “Problem?”

“Did you do something to her?” she snaps, and Dimitri doesn’t even flinch. Me, I flinch. I beg for lightning to hit me or even a puck to hit my temple and knock me out.

“What are you implying?” he asks evenly.

Her glare deepens, and I hold my hands up. “Please, you have the wrong idea, Shelli. He wouldn’t do anything to me. We’re friends,” I insist, and it’s crazy how quickly those words leave my lips. “He played a prank on me—which is good, means I’m part of the team—and it made me emotional.”

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