Chapter 16 #2
I feel my cheeks heat up as the seconds tick by and he doesn’t say anything.
The silence is like a slap to the face. When I feel the tears start to prick at my eyes and my throat grow painfully tight, I panic and do the only thing I can think to do.
I turn my back on him and run, grabbing his hoodie on the way so I can shove it over my head and save myself the added embarrassment of bolting out while bare-assed.
“Sitka,” Damien hollers after me, but I ignore him, not even allowing myself to look back as I run down the hall and towards the French doors. My only plan is to get as far away from here as possible. Pulling the door open, I ignore the cold wind that hits me right in the face and keep running.
“Sitka! Wait!”
Tears block my vision as I scramble past the pool and down the path to the beach.
My only hope is that I can find a place to hide and then sneak into Allie’s window after he’s either given up or gone in a different direction.
Once I hit the sand, I pick up speed, running as fast as I can while the waves crash against the shore, completely hidden in darkness but a comfort all the same.
This is my home, every inch of it familiar to me.
I was stupid to leave my comfort zone. I should’ve kept my fucking head down and been content with my books.
I’m still berating myself when I hear the thud of his footsteps behind me.
With my thighs and lungs burning, I try for a last burst of energy, but before I can get much further, Damien’s arm wraps around my waist, hauling me to a stop and back against the solid wall of his chest. I try to wriggle free, but give up when it’s obvious he isn’t budging and instead focus on trying to catch my breath.
It doesn’t work. I start sobbing while he wraps both his arms around me from behind. “Sitka,” he says, and the pain in his voice matches exactly how I feel right now—completely shattered and confused about how I could’ve read things so wrong.
“Baby, you’re killing me.” He brushes my hair back and tries to wipe the tears from my cheeks. I’m not usually this emotional, but this cut too deeply, and I’m helpless to hide it. “Please tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”
I let out a frustrated groan and break free of his grasp so I can turn and face him.
He’s in nothing but his black boxers, looking just as devastated as I feel.
It’s too dark for me to see every detail of his expression, but I can see enough, and I don’t understand why he’s the one looking so hurt right now.
“Please tell me,” he says again. “I swear I can fix it. I just need you to tell me what I did wrong.”
“I just feel like an idiot,” I say, swiping the tears from my cheek.
“Why?”
I let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “Oh, I don’t know, Damien. Probably because I just told you I love you and you completely ignored it like it meant nothing. I was so stupid,” I say more to myself than to him. “I shouldn’t have assumed you felt the same way.”
“Wait, when did you tell me you love me?”
I lift my eyes to his, feeling like I’ve stepped into an alternate reality.
“Why are you pretending? I don’t understand.
When did I tell you? I just showed you. You remember the inscription in the book I just gave you less than twenty minutes ago?
You read it right in front of me and then just set it aside like it meant nothing. ”
Damien’s body stiffens at my words, like I’ve just physically smacked him, and when I start to cry again, he ducks his head and grips the back of his neck with one hand.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, the words spoken so low I almost miss them. He keeps his head down when he says, “I didn’t know.”
“I watched you read it,” I tell him.
“No, you watched me look at it.” He sighs and lifts his head to the sky, still gripping the back of his neck and looking completely and utterly distraught. “You saw me pretend to read it.”
“Why would you pretend? I don’t understand.”
He finally looks at me and says, “Because I can’t fucking read, and I didn’t want you to know.”
“What?” I ask, too stunned to say much else, but I manage to add, “How is that possible?”
His obvious embarrassment guts me, and when I try to take a step towards him, he takes a step back, holding a hand out to stop me. Seeing it starts the tears back up, but I let them fall, not caring enough to wipe them away.
“Don’t,” he says, and the pain in his voice forces another sob from my throat.
“Don’t pity me, Sitka. Not you. Anyone but you.
” He rests his hands on his hips and looks back down at the sand between us.
“I have dyslexia. I can manage to read things if given enough time, but it’s frustrating and it always leaves me with a headache.
That’s printed words, though, there’s no way in hell I could ever begin to decipher cursive handwriting.
I didn’t want you to know, so I pretended to read it.
I had no idea what you’d written. I didn’t mean to ruin everything.
I never would have,” he stops and shakes his head before lifting his eyes to mine again.
“You really thought I could read that and then just toss it aside like it meant nothing?”
He doesn’t let me answer. He closes the distance and cups my face, leaning his forehead against mine.
“I love you, Sitka. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I didn’t want to scare you off, and then tonight I didn’t want you to think I was just saying it to get sex.
It was stupid. I should’ve told you, and I’m sorry I didn’t.
I should’ve told you everything. It’s embarrassing to me, and I’ve always hidden it. ”
My heart breaks for him. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You didn’t ruin anything, and I don’t care if you’re dyslexic.”
He scoffs at that and shakes his head. “Your whole life is books. You’ve always got your head buried in one. You love them.”
“I love you,” I say, noticing the shiver that runs through him at my words. “And yeah, I love books, but that doesn’t mean you have to. This changes nothing for me. I’m sorry you worried for one second about telling me, because every second of that was a waste of time.”
I see a soft hint of a smile before it disappears.
“I’m sorry I made you cry.” He tilts my face up even more and leans closer so I can see his eyes when he says, “But don’t ever fucking run from me again.
Not like that, Sitka. Not when you’re crying and hurt, like you can’t wait to put as much distance between us as possible. My heart can’t take it.”
“I’m sorry I assumed the worst and ran.”
His finger grazes along my cheek. “It’s what anyone would’ve assumed, but I’m asking you to trust me enough to know I’d never do something like that.
If you ever think I’ve done something that could hurt you in any way, then something’s being lost in translation, because I’m just not capable of it.
Next time, talk to me. Ask me. I’ll never lie to you. ”
Clasping my hands behind his neck, I say, “Did we just have our first fight?”
This time his smile is bigger before he says, “No, we didn’t have a fight. You just scared the hell out of me and nearly gave me a heart attack, but that was no fight.”
His hands skim down my body before slipping under the hoodie so he can grab my bare ass and lift me up. My hair blows around us as I wrap my arms and legs around him, moaning when I feel the hard lines of his abs press against my pussy.
“I really do love the present.” His lips brush the corner of my mouth. I feel him hesitate before he says, “Maybe you can read it to me later.”
A smile stretches across my face when I say, “I’d love that.” And because I feel like he needs to hear it, I cup his face and say, “You know I think you’re brilliant, right? Dyslexia has absolutely nothing to do with intelligence.”
“So I’ve been told,” he says, the tone making it clear he’s heard that from his family over the years.
“You’re brilliant,” I tell him again, letting him hear the truth of what I’m saying.
He fights a grin and smacks my ass. “Stop. You’re going to make me blush.”
“Then both our cheeks will match.”
He laughs, the carefree sound of it making my own face light up as he palms the cheek he just smacked, grazing his thumb along my stinging skin. “Your ass does look amazing red, sweetheart. So good I think I’ll have to keep it that way.”
“Well, it just so happens I like it when you smack it, so maybe we can work something out.”
Using his other arm to pull me in even closer, he grasps the back of my neck and brings his mouth to mine. He’s so close, I feel the soft brush of them when he whispers, “You are perfect, Sitka Medvedev, and I love you.”
I brush my fingers through his hair, savoring the feel of him. “You’re the perfect one, Damien, and I love you too.”
His smile is infectious, and we stay just like this, holding each other and smiling while the waves crash behind us and the heavy clouds float above, giving brief glimpses of moonlight that let me see Damien’s face in more detail.
The feel of his body against mine slowly starts to drive me crazy, and when I say, “Take me back to bed,” the corner of his mouth lifts before he moves his hand so he can drag a finger along my soaked slit.
“Back to bed?” He teases me with another slow stroke. “Feeling sleepy already?”
“No,” I whisper when I feel him nudge against my lips, barely dipping inside but sending a rush of pleasure through me all the same.
“No?”
“No,” I say again when he presses in just a bit further.
“You’re very wet, sweetheart. You feel how easy it is for me to slip my thumb inside?” He goes deeper, pressing his thumb in all the way. “Fuck,” he groans. “You’re gripping me so tightly. Tell me, besyonok, are you wishing this was my cock right now?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding my head in case he didn’t hear me. When he keeps his thumb buried inside me and presses the pad of one finger against my ass, I suck in a quick breath and rest my forehead to his.