Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Blue
Golden strips filter through the blinds, warming the tangled sheets around me.
I stretch slowly, muscles aching in the best way from last night, my body still humming with the afterglow of Red's touch.
His arm drapes heavy across my waist, breath steady and warm against my neck, chest rising and falling in rhythm with mine.
I turn my head just enough to watch him sleep. The relaxed expression on his face, lips slightly parted, and dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks makes me smile, giddy with happiness.
This man is my man. He's my anchor and belongs to me now more than ever. Nothing will stand in our way. Not my father, mother, Aunt Kora, Mikhail, or anyone else. No more hiding, no more games. Red's mine, and I'll fight anyone who tries to take him away.
I shift closer, pressing my back against his front, and his arm tightens instinctively, pulling me in.
His erection stirs against my thigh, hard and insistent even in sleep, sending a fresh wave of heat through me.
I bite my lip as memories flood back of him buried deep inside me, groaning my name, spilling everything he had while I pulsed around him.
My skin prickles and nipples tighten. Adrenaline teases my cells. I trace my fingers lightly over the corded muscles in his forearm, and love and joy settle deep in my chest.
I don't have any doubts. Red's the one who makes the chaos quiet inside me. He's the one who sees all my broken edges and still wants to hold them.
He stirs behind me, his hand sliding up to cup my breast, thumb brushing my nipple in a lazy circle. His lips find my shoulder, and he presses a soft kiss on my skin. "Morning, Bluebird," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
I twist in his arms to face him, our legs tangling further. His eyes open, dark and intense, locking on mine. I lean in and kiss him slowly, tongue slipping past his lips.
A low, rough groan vibrates from his throat into my mouth as his tongue pushes deeper, claiming every inch of me while his fingers tighten in my hair. His other hand moves to my hip, fingers digging in just enough to send sparks down my spine.
We kiss like that for a few minutes, lazy and deep, until his hand slides lower, tracing the curve of my ass, then dipping between my thighs.
"Mm," I moan.
His fingers brush the fresh scabs on my inner thigh, and he freezes.
He pulls back, eyes narrowing as he pushes the sheet down to expose the raised pink lines, still raw at the edges.
His jaw clenches, thumb hovering over the wound.
His voice is low and edged with something sharp. "Blue, you can't keep doing this."
I try to pull the sheet back up, but he holds it down, keeping his gaze on mine. I nonchalantly state, "It's nothing. Just a scratch."
He sits up, and the sheet pools at his waist, exposing the hard planes of his chest. His hand stays on my thigh, gentle but firm. "Don't lie to me. When did you do this?"
I shrug, avoiding his eyes, focusing on the pattern of light on the wall instead. "Last night. Before the club. It helped me think straight."
He exhales hard, fingers tracing the edge of one scab carefully. "Helped you think? Blue, this isn't thinking. This is hurting yourself because I wasn't there."
I push his hand away and sit up. The sheet slips down to my waist. Cool air grazes my bare breasts. Anger hits me, and I point out, "You weren't there. You left me, remember? You walked out and said it was too dangerous. So yeah, I coped the only way I knew how."
His eyes darken further, and his hand reaches for mine. He laces our fingers together. "Coped? By cutting into your skin?"
"Yes. That's what I do. You know this," I affirm.
"Blue—"
"Don't lecture me, Red."
"This isn't a solution to fix your emotions," he adds.
I raise my voice. "Then you should have thought about that when you decided to cut me loose!"
He takes a few breaths, then calmly asserts, "You know I want to be with you."
"Then don't leave me again."
Silence fills the air.
He finally offers, "I hate that you did this. I hate that I wasn't there to stop it."
A frustrated sigh comes out of me. "You can't stop it every time. But you can stay now. Be with me for real."
He shakes his head, leaning in closer, his other hand cupping my face. "I want that more than anything. But you hurting yourself like this...it kills me. Tell me why. What pushed you to the blade last night?"
I look away, throat tightening.
"Tell me," he softly urges.
I shrug, revealing, "I felt empty. You left. The Instagram stories weren't enough. I needed something real. Something I could feel."
He turns my face back to his and strokes my cheek. "You have to learn how to feel your emotions and not pick up a blade, or a pin, or anything else that will hurt you."
"Well, the secrecy doesn't help," I point out.
An irritated breath rumbles out of him. He scrubs his face with his hand, then nods. "I know. Our situation sucks right now."
I lean closer to him. "Exactly. And that's why I'm ready to tell my parents. Today. Tomorrow. Soon. I can't hide us anymore."
His hand drops, eyes widening a fraction. "No. Blue, no. Not yet."
I pull back, sheet bunching in my lap. "Why not? You said last night you don't want to leave me. You just told me you want us together more than anything. So let's make it official. My dad will understand once he sees how much I need you. And how much we love each other."
Red's expression hardens. He runs his hand through his hair and argues, "Your dad isn't going to be okay with this, Blue, nor will anyone else."
"He will," I insist, then add, "Everyone will!"
Red scoffs. "Your family runs half the city's underground operations. All your father will see is a guy who took advantage of his daughter in therapy. He'll order Mikhail or someone else to put a bullet in me before you finish the sentence."
I shake my head, scooting closer on my knees. "He won't. I'll make him listen. I'm his daughter. He loves me."
Red grabs my shoulders, not hard but urgent. "Love doesn't stop a man like him from protecting his family. We need a better plan than just blurting it out."
I toss my hands in the air, demanding, "Like what?"
Red closes his eyes, then opens them. "I don't know, but something to show him I'm not a threat. We have to get him to understand I really love you and I'm not taking advantage of you. Rushing this gets me killed."
The heater rattles and makes my anxiety flare. I straddle him and drag my fingers through his hair above his ear, claiming, "No one can take advantage of me. My father should know that."
Red snorts. "Even I have a hard time convincing myself I didn't take advantage of you."
"I pursued you."
"And I should have resisted harder."
"That's ridiculous!"
Red's jaw twitches. "This is a moot point. We've already gone over this, and it is what it is. But we need to stay hidden until we figure this out."
I roll off him, cross my arms, and raise my voice. "I'm not waiting. I waited through your 'space' bullshit, through the nights alone with the blade. I'm done."
He leans in, voice dropping low. "And I'm done watching you bleed because of me. We do this right, or we don't do it at all."
"Don't threaten me, Dr. Mercer," I warn.
He retorts, "Don't test me, Ms. Ivanov. And that includes acting like you're in charge."
We stare at each other, breaths coming fast, tension thick enough to choke on. His eyes flick down to my lips, then lower to my breasts, and heat flares in his gaze.
Anger twists into something hotter, needier. I lunge forward and murmur in his ear, "I'm a woman who gets what she wants, Dr. Mercer."
He reaches up, pins his hand on my neck, and lifts my chin so my face is toward the ceiling. His hot breath hits my ear, taunting me as his tongue flicks over my lobe while he states, "You need to learn patience, Bluebird."
Euphoria smacks me, then shoots through my veins so fast I get dizzy. I reach for his erection, glide my hand over it, and whisper, "Patience isn't in my vocabulary."
"Then I guess I'm going to have to fuck it in you," he taunts, then lowers his head and sucks on the bruise on my collarbone.
Delicious pain runs to my core. I gasp, "Oh God."
He sucks harder, and my body quivers.
He groans, then moves his mouth to mine, and my hands fist in his hair. His arms wrap around me, and he pulls me onto his lap. His erection presses against my torso, hard and ready.
I lift my hips, grind down on it, and whimper into our kiss.
He wraps his fingers around my neck again, grits his teeth, and states, "I said patience."
Through ragged breath, I retort, "Told you I don't have any, Dr. Mercer," and rotate my hips over his cock, trembling with adrenaline.
His eyes narrow. In a dark voice, he scolds, "Bad, bad little patient of mine."
A flicker of fear flies at me, then it turns to excitement. I circle my pussy over him, reminding him, "I always get what I want, Dr."
He flips me onto my back in one swift move and pins my wrists above my head with one hand.
I gasp.
His mouth trails down my neck, teeth grazing the skin. "You think you can defy me, Bluebird?" he growls, his free hand sliding between my thighs, and fingers gliding over my clit.
"Y-yes!"
He freezes his hand, scowling at me. "Insubordinate patients have to learn lessons."
In a breathless voice, I egg him on, "Then teach me, Dr. Mercer… Make your therapy session hurt so good I forget how to disobey."
A small twist in his lips appears. He slowly rubs me, asking, "You want your doctor to punish this greedy little pussy until you're sobbing apologies and begging to be good for me?"
I arch into his touch, breath hitching, but I force my voice steady enough to taunt, "Only if you can make it sting, Dr. Mercer. And I've been so bad, I need you to break me until I'm crying your name."