Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I sigh as I stare at the hues of orange and magenta illuminating the sky. “I bet they’d be watching the sunrise together like this. The tattoo artist and professor, I mean.”
“Totally.” He pauses. “You like sunrises?”
“Mm. I never stop to watch them, though. I’m usually running or swimming or working out during this time of the day.”
“I prefer sunsets.”
“Why?”
“Because after it, there’ll be night.” He squeezes my finger. “I love the night. It’s where I can be myself.”
My chest constricts, my words slipping away before they can form, so I lace my fingers through his instead. His hand is warm, steady, so perfectly right, it makes me wonder why I’ve never held it before now.
“This sunrise is stunning, though.” He grins. “I swear, random gas stations have the best sunsets and sunrises. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Mm,” I say, looking at his face glowing in the early morning light.
He’s so gorgeous, my chest hurts.
And I really don’t want to leave him later today.
Sure, I can change schools next semester, but then what? This is only a phase that will eventually come to an end.
Only, eventually is not today, and I’m going to be selfish. I’ll get my fill of this beautiful nightmare until I can’t.
“Yulian?”
“Yeah?”
“What would hurt you the most to lose?”
“Chaos, so don’t burn her.”
I stare, and he laughs but then it fades away. “Jokes aside, it’s Alya. I couldn’t protect her before, so I’d be destroyed if something happened to her.”
“When we were in DC, you mentioned she’s disabled because of you.”
He purses his lips, obviously not wanting to talk about it, but I stroke his hand with my thumb, slowly coaxing him.
Finally, he lets out a sigh. “It’s… Mom told me to look out for her and I…well, ran away from home.”
“Ran away?”
“Not permanently, just for a day. Mom got worse during that time, and she passed away while I wasn’t there.” His voice chokes on the last words, and I keep stroking his hand, squeezing a bit. “Alya was by her side until the very end. She was distraught and needed me, so she had the chauffeur drive her, but they had an accident, and well, the rest is history.”
“It’s not your fault she had an accident.”
“It is. She wouldn’t have had it if I’d been there.”
“She could’ve had it on her way to school or anywhere else. You can’t predict accidents.”
He remains silent, but his shoulders are crowded with tension. I contemplate hugging him, offering him support or just a shoulder to lean on.
Before I can do that, a car rolls in, killing any chance of that happening.
“We should go.” He slips his hand from mine and faces his bike, his grin gone, the light dimmed from his face. The conversation clipped his mood, soured it.
But I know how to make him feel better.
Sex. Lots of relentless, consuming sex.
We’ll fuck until the minute I have to go.
And I’ll convince myself it’s just a physical connection, even though the truth—the answer to what would destroy me most—is losing Yulian Dimitriev.
I know it, because I tasted a fragment of that pain four years ago. If it happens again now, I don’t think I’ll survive it.
29
VAUGHN
“Are you serious right now?”
I push the sunglasses down my nose, staring at Yulian, who’s lining up empty cans by the far left side of the garden.
“Dead serious,” he says, bending down, and I get distracted because his ass looks really good in those shorts, his tattoos on full display, his tan skin gleaming under the rare British sun.
The breeze is chilling, but Yulian is pretending this is summer as he parades around shirtless, his bare feet sinking into the damp grass. Honestly, he must be doing it on purpose to seduce me.
It’s working, by the way, because I can’t take my gaze from him.
Not sure why I suggested we lounge in the garden after the disaster of a lunch Yulian tried to cook. He made such a mess of the kitchen that I had to clean—seriously, not sure how he could even bear to say that we should leave it to the housekeepers.
The food was not bad per se, but the mess was not worth it. Definitely won’t let him cook again.
But that’s what I said a couple of weeks ago when he nearly blew up the oven, but then he’d jump into the kitchen half naked and I sort of let him do whatever he wanted, even attempting to fix some failed recipes.
I know how to cook simple stuff, but Yulian is always going for new adventures just for the sake of it.
Honestly, every week is a journey with this guy.
It’s been about a month since I started coming here weekly, since the ride to the gas station that he repeats occasionally. Ever since that conversation we had in the middle of nowhere, something has shifted between us.