I can’t help checking out his ass as he does. He’s got a great fucking ass, and I’ve never seen it bare before, so I want to soak up the view before he pulls his pants back up.
His dark gaze flicks to mine over his shoulder, peering at me from beneath his lashes, but I don’t even pretend I wasn’t just checking him out.
Instead, I grin cheekily. “Nice butt.”
A smile tugs his lips up at the corners as he arches a brow at me. “Glad you approve.”
“Oh, I definitely do.”
We still haven’t discussed exactly what this means. Whether we’re officially together now—what the labels are and all that. I know we probably should, just for clarity’s sake, but… Dmitri and I have always been the two who communicate without our words.
And besides, regardless of what we decide to call it, something has definitely shifted, and I don’t think it’ll ever go back to the way it was.
All the tension between us, that feeling of a gulf, of distance, of anger… it’s gone. Almost like it never existed. I just feel relaxed and close to him.
Something’s softened about him as well. Not that he’ll ever be Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows. Dmitri’s still Dmitri and I wouldn’t want him to suddenly become this smiling, soft romantic—that’s not who he is. I want him to keep demanding the best of me, pushing me, being cranky, and showing me with his actions how much he cares.
But it’s like there’s a weight gone from him now, and as he touches me in the aftermath, as we put ourselves back together, it feels like… like we’re freer now. We’re easy and relaxed, as if this is what we always should have been. Like all the tension since we met was because we were holding back from this, and now that we’ve given in, it’s all just fallen into place like puzzle pieces.
Dmitri helps me clean myself up, gently tucks my hair behind my ear, fetches my clothes, and basically… takes care of me, the way he always has.
I can sense that he’s no longer holding back. Now that we’ve both admitted our feelings and acted on them too, he’s letting himself be all that he can be, wants to be, with me.
It’s such a relief I can’t even stand it. I feel like I can breathe properly for the first time in months. As if I had a corset or something constricting my chest, holding me in—and now that it’s gone, each lungful of air feels like freedom.
We finish cleaning up, and Dmitri takes my hand, grumbling about how we have to do this on a bed next time because there’s not enough room in a fucking storage closet—as if this whole thing wasn’t his damn idea in the first place—and we exit the small room, only to run smack into Roman.
The ebony-haired man catches me by the shoulders, looks at me, looks at Dmitri… and promptly turns away, ducking his head.
What the hell?
I start to move toward him, a little concerned. Did I hurt him? Is he—? Then I realize his shoulders are shaking.
Keeping my feet planted right where they are, I fold my arms and glare. “This isn’t funny.”
Roman makes a choked noise and holds up a finger, asking me to wait. After another moment, he turns back, his face mostly under control. “I’m sorry, but it’s very funny.”
“Let me know the next time you two hook up,” Dmitri says dryly. “I’ll be sure to stand outside the door and laugh when you’re finished.”
The other man arches a brow. “I can dock your grades, you know.”
“But you won’t.” Dmitri smirks, and I have to laugh.
Then I remember where Roman just was, and the post-sex haze of happiness dissipates like fog in a strong wind. There’s so much we’re up against. So much shit to figure out. “Wait! How—how did Hardwick take it? Is he going to close the school?”
I’m honestly worried the person doing this might be one of the students, and that closing the academy will mean the culprit gets off campus and can flee, but maybe it’s worth it if no more students are hurt. If Roman or Asher or Dmitri lose their magic too, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.
Roman’s face slides from amusement to frustration in a split second, his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching. “Hardwick won’t close the school.”
“What?”
“Why the fuck not?” Dmitri demands.
“It’s not exactly his fault,” Roman amends, but he still sounds