Chapter 42 #2
Ah, so that’s who he was texting when he first got here. “Wait, you have Darby’s phone number?” I ask, curious. I want to ask him how he got it, but I think I already know the answer to that. The same way he got mine. Illegally.
“Just for emergencies,” he clarifies.
“And this is an emergency?” I ask while stumbling behind him as he leads me through the crowded room.
“Clearly,” he says dryly.
Dimitri navigates me outside of the club, which is no easy task considering I have high heels on and can barely walk straight. The fresh night air feels good on my face. I didn’t realize how hot I was in there. I must have been burning up.
We start our trek down the sidewalk, and Dimitri’s long strides make it hard for me to keep up.
“I have little legs!” I exclaim, which earns me a curious glare; but in turn, Dimitri slows down his gait.
We continue moving, and I groan out loud.
“When you said we were leaving, I didn’t know walking would be required of me,” I whine.
“Would you rather I carried you?” he offers.
“No,” I say quickly. Just the thought of being plastered up against his body while he’s dressed like Mr. Hotty McHotterson is not the temptation I need when I’m completely inebriated and I left every single one of my inhibitions behind at the bar. At least I have that much sense.
We start walking again, slower this time, and I think back to our conversation at the bar right before we left. Something clicks in my alcohol-laden brain, and I stop and say, “Wait. What did you mean before?”
Dimitri stops and stares down at me, cocking a thick, dark brow.
I point a finger at him. “You said again.”
He waits, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Use more words, Savina, please,” he says impatiently.
“You said ‘all I need is for someone to spike your drink again’. When did someone ever spike my drink?” I question with narrowed eyes.
Dimitri grumbles and turns away, clearly not wanting to answer me. I take a few steps, stumbling on the uneven sidewalk. I almost faceplant, but he manages to save me at the last second before scooping me up in his strong arms. “Looks like you’re not walking after all,” he grinds out.
I stare up at him, the night sky above us, the stars disappearing and appearing between the darkness of the streetlamps littering the streets as he walks, carrying me. “Answer my question,” I demand, sounding rather pathetic given my current state.
“Your high school boyfriend spiked your drink at the party that night,” he answers quietly.
His words have my blood running cold. “Corbin?” I hiss out.
He nods. “The one and only.”
I kick my feet. “Wait. Put me down.”
Dimitri reluctantly adheres to my request, gently placing me back on the ground. His hand reaches out and grabs my elbow to keep me steady as I sway on my high heels.
“Corbin tried drugging me the night you pushed me in the pool?” I blurt.
Again, Dimitri nods. He drops my elbow and shifts on his feet, avoiding my gaze.
I never knew the reason for Dimitri’s anger that night. Turns out, he wasn’t even angry at me. He was angry about what had happened…and what could have happened had he not been there. He was angry at Corbin and the situation he had created.
“You were so stubborn and wouldn’t put down that damn drink,” he sneers. “I had to do something.”
“And so, you pushed me in the pool,” I say in awe as the pieces of the puzzle slowly lock into place, letting me see the bigger picture.
Dimitri wasn’t pushing me in the pool to humiliate me in front of my classmates.
He pushed me in the pool to keep me from drinking a laced cocktail from my shitbag boyfriend.
Before I can even think about that weekend or the following events, he’s grabbing my arm and ushering me down the sidewalk once again.
“Let’s go,” he says grumpily.
After what feels like ten days, we finally reach his sleek, black sportscar. Thank goodness he didn’t bring the motorcycle. I probably wouldn’t have been able to hold on and would’ve become roadkill on the highway in two-point-five seconds.
Dimitri opens the passenger’s side door for me and waits.
“Where are we going?” I question.
“You’ll see,” is all he says.
“I want to know before I get in.”
“Fuck, you’re so damn stubborn.” The muscle in his strong jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth together. “Get in the car, Savina,” he growls.
“Or what?” I press.
“Or I’ll bend you over my knee and spank your ass raw in front of every person on this street,” he threatens in a growl.
My mouth suddenly goes dry at his words, and I struggle to swallow.
I’ve never been spanked before, but just the thought of his large hand reddening my cheeks does something to me.
My panties are instantly damp, and I have to squeeze my thighs together.
“Okay,” I say, but I don’t know if I’m actually agreeing to getting in the car with no more problems or if I want him to spank me in front of complete strangers.
He doesn’t let me decide before he gives me a small push, and I fall down into the bucket seat.
Reaching across me, he grabs the seatbelt and buckles me in.
The smell of his cologne fills my nostrils, and I breathe him in deeply.
Expensive cologne with the usual hint of mint and tobacco.
I don’t know if he catches me smelling him, but he doesn’t let on that he does.
Instead, he simply straightens and slams the door shut.
I watch him round the front of the car and climb into the driver’s seat.
His large, tattooed hands grip the steering wheel.
Hard. So hard his knuckles turn white from the force.
“You put yourself in danger tonight, Savina,” he starts.
I roll my eyes. “You sound just like my father.”
His right hand reaches out and grips my chin, holding my gaze to his. “If I was your father, I would never let you out of my sight. Your beauty is alarming, to say the least. I would be tempted to keep you under lock and key.”
My brain takes a while to process his words. “You think I’m pretty?” I whisper.
“No, I don’t think you’re pretty,” he says, and my ego instantly deflates. He stares at my face, his eyes lingering on my lips. And when his eyes meet mine once more, he rasps out, “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. No one even comes close to comparing to you.”
Dimitri has never been open about his feelings for me or given me compliments before.
I have to wonder if it’s because I’m drunk, and he thinks I won’t remember any of this in the morning.
But I won’t forget this. I won’t allow myself to.
A compliment from Dimitri is so rare and precious that I’ll lock it away forever in the back of my mind and keep it there always like a prized possession that only I can see and listen to on repeat.
“Darby is a bad influence,” he tells me, breaking the spell, as he releases me to push a button to start the engine. Test Drive by Artemas filters through the speakers as he pulls the car away from the curb, squealing the tires in his haste.
“She’s a great friend. She just wanted to have a fun night out celebrating my birthday.”
“And she let you leave with me,” he points out.
“She knows you won’t hurt me.”
“And how does she know that?” he asks, quirking a brow.
“Because I’ve told her about you.”
I watch as his hands once again tighten around the steering wheel, and I can’t help but fantasize about his hands on me.
“Girls tell each other everything,” I explain.
“Everything?” he questions.
“Well, maybe not everything.”
“What haven’t you told her?” he asks, his tone curious.
I hesitate. “I don’t tell her how you make me feel.
I don’t give her details.” In all actuality, I haven’t told Darby very many things, but I know she knows I’m safe with Dimitri.
She let him in my room that one night weeks ago after she threatened him with a butcher knife. That’s proof enough for me.
A car suddenly pulls out in front of us, and Dimitri slams on the brakes and lays on the horn at the same time.
He shouts in Romanian. I don’t understand a word of it, but it sounds so hot coming out of his mouth.
And then he places his large palm on my bare thigh in reassurance.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his blue eyes meeting mine.
Words fail me at that moment. All I can do is nod.
He continues driving and returns his attention to the road but doesn’t remove his hand from my thigh.
The sexual tension slowly grows to insurmountable amounts inside the cabin of his car.
I swallow hard as I stare down at his large, tattooed fingers, which are so close to the apex of my thighs.
His pinky is literally under my skirt. If I inch forward, his hand would be right there.
And my body must literally have a mind of its own, because I find myself sliding forward. And when his fingertips graze against my damp panties, I suck in a harsh breath.
“Savina,” Dimitri whispers, and it sounds like a benediction. I expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t. “Did you miss my touch, privighetoare mic??”
“Yes,” I confess. “I miss you all the time.” The words blurt out of my mouth before I can stop them, but it’s the complete truth. Whenever Dimitri is not with me or near me, I feel lonely, empty. I hate it, but it’s my reality.
“I missed you too,” he says, catching me off-guard.
My breath hitches in my throat as his large hand cups my pussy through the material of my panties. “What…what do you miss about me?” I ask as he slowly strokes the seam of my lips through the fabric.
“Your smile. Your laugh. The way your eyes narrow when you first see me, but then eventually they soften. The way your breathing changes whenever I get close to you. Your smell.”
“My smell?” I question, my head feeling fuzzy as he slides my panties to the side and touches my bare pussy.