nothing more than for you to make it right and to hold me. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”
He kisses my shoulder. “You’re not. You’re young, inexperienced in much of the world, and you’re out of your depth. You’re in a house with men who have killed, witnessed awful violence, and you can’t expect to feel comfortable.”
“Andrius told me there’s no going back to normal for me now. That once you’ve been part of something like what happened, you don’t ever go back to being the same.”
“No, you don’t. You can be normal again, though. You can go back to your life. To your dance classes with your neighbor, and helping your grandparents, and being generally kind and good. You had that walk on the wild side you craved, and you didn’t enjoy it. Lesson learned.”
It’s not a lesson learned, though, because I can’t stop craving him. He’s my walk on the wild side, and I don’t want it to end. I tried to tell myself I did. Tried to convince myself I was done with him, but he pulls me back in each time. Having him so close to me, holding me, is pure torture.
I once thought he couldn’t be my shelter because he was the storm. Now I wonder if he’s really the jagged rocks guarding the bay. I’m in the bay, right in the eye of the storm, and it’s not me he’ll smash to bits, but anyone who gets close or dares to harm me.
I turn in the water until I’m facing him and study his face. He’s not classically handsome. His features are too hard, his body too big, his face too arrogant. He’s beautiful to me, though. Truly, breathtakingly beautiful. From the first moment I saw him, he stopped the clocks for me, and they haven’t started since.
Reaching up, I trace the outline of his jaw with one wet finger. He doesn’t move, but something subtle changes in him; he goes on alert. Like the predator he is, he watches me, eerily still, waiting, seeing if I’ll go ahead and offer myself up to him.
Like the proverbial lamb to the slaughter, I lean in and press my lips to his. Soft to hard. Damp skin to damp skin. He doesn’t react; no, he lets me explore. My fingers trail down his chest as I continue to kiss him. We’re closed mouth to closed mouth, but it’s one of the hottest kisses I’ve ever experienced. He’s nothing but coiled tension below me. This must be what it feels like to have total control over so much power. I’m in charge right now. He’s letting me be the one to guide this. It’s a heady rush.
As my fingers lightly pass over one nipple, he shudders. His eyes close then open slowly, and I see it, the fire in him, the need he’s pushing down. He wants me. He wants me so much; how could I have doubted it? How could I have ever thought he preferred Liza? If I quell the insecure voices in my head, and simply go on what I see and feel when we’re together, it’s clear as day this man is hot for me. He might not love me. He says he’s not capable, but he wants me. Maybe more than he’s wanted any other woman.
I could sit here all day wondering, why me? I don’t. I don’t waste my time on that; instead, I focus on him.
My fingers trail over his hard abs, down to that big slab of muscle running down his side, dipping into his groin. Adonis belt, I think they call it? I took an art class once. I was useless, but I’m pretty sure when we were looking at classical sculpture our teacher said this was Adonis belt, or maybe Apollo’s belt. Either way, whatever it is, Konstantin’s is spectacular. It makes my mind lose all focus simply looking at it. I want to lick it, then lick down that dark trail of hair, and then suck the head of his hard, thick cock into my mouth.
I trail my fingers back up his torso and then down each arm, right to the tips of his fingers. He grabs my hands suddenly, the movement startling me. He brings them up into the air, looking at them. Water drips off our skin. Mine is light tan, his much deeper. He bends forward and kisses the inside of both my wrists. The action twists something deep in me. It seems tender.