Chapter Sixteen - Alexei
The monitors glow pale in the dark, the static hum of the feed the only sound in my office.
It’s well past midnight when I notice movement on the screen.
Her room. She’s on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tight around herself.
Her head is bowed, shoulders stiff like she’s holding the weight of something she can’t set down.
For a moment I stay where I am, staring at the image. I shouldn’t go to her. I’ve done enough damage. Yet my hand drifts toward the door before I can stop it.
The hall is silent as I walk, each step echoing louder than it should. I open her door without knocking. She doesn’t look up. Her face is half hidden behind her hair, but I hear the faint sound of her sniffle. The sound guts me more than any scream.
Her voice comes raw, broken at the edges. “I want to forget everything.”
I lean against the wall, watching her shoulders shake.
She looks smaller like this, curled in on herself, stripped of the fire she wears like armor.
I lower myself slowly to the floor beside her, my back against the same wall.
For a moment we sit in silence, breathing the same air, the space between us charged.
She finally lifts her head, eyes rimmed red, voice sharp despite the crack in it. “You ruined my life.”
I stare ahead at the opposite wall, the words landing heavy. “I know.”
Admitting it should feel like defeat, but it doesn’t. It’s the truth, and truth is the only thing I have left to offer her.
She turns toward me, searching my face. “Then why are you here? What do you want from me?”
My answer comes before I can stop it, quiet, raw. “Not this.”
Her laugh is bitter, empty. “Liar. Men like you don’t regret anything.”
Her words slice, but I don’t flinch. “I hated what my father did. I hate what the past turned me into.”
Her glare sharpens, wet with fury. “You’re pretending. Guilt is just another mask for you. You don’t feel a damn thing.”
I don’t argue. I let the accusation hang, let her spit venom at me because I’ve earned every drop of it. My silence stretches between us, heavy.
Something pulls me toward her, an instinct stronger than reason. I lean in and press my mouth to hers. The kiss is neither soft nor cruel. It’s unsteady, a collision of everything unsaid.
She shoves me back, breath breaking ragged, but her hands don’t leave me. Her eyes blaze, torn between fury and something else. Then she grabs my shirt and drags me forward, her mouth crashing back into mine.
The tension that’s been straining between us for days snaps clean through.
Her lips are hot, desperate, moving against mine with a force that leaves me shaking. My hand cups the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair as I pull her closer. She tastes like salt and fire, the edge of her anger mixing with something sweeter, darker.
Her nails dig into my chest through the thin fabric of my shirt. She kisses me like she wants to devour me, like she wants to punish me with every movement. I let her. I take it, give back the same intensity, pressing her against the wall, needing to feel her as close as possible.
She pulls back just enough to glare at me, lips swollen, breath heaving. “I hate you.”
“I know.” My voice comes low, rough, shaking with everything I can’t say.
Then she drags me down again, her mouth crushing against mine. There’s no rhythm, no patience. It’s teeth and tongue, a battle and a surrender all at once.
My hand slides down her arm, wrapping around her wrist. Her pulse races under my thumb, frantic. She trembles, not with fear but with fury and hunger, and it burns through me.
She bites my lip hard enough to draw blood, and I groan into her mouth, the copper taste sharp between us. She doesn’t apologize. She pulls me closer, her body arching into mine as if she can’t stand the distance anymore.
I press my forehead to hers, panting. “You shouldn’t want this.”
Her laugh is harsh, broken. “Neither should you.”
Then her mouth is on mine again, and I stop thinking altogether.
The weight of years, of lies, of hatred presses into this moment, boiling over into heat that sears through both of us. Her hands clutch my shoulders, dragging me down with her. My body presses against hers, every inch of me aching with the need to take and the fear of what it means if I do.
I kiss her harder, pouring into it everything I can’t admit, everything I’ve buried under silence. She answers with the same ferocity, every gasp and groan tearing another piece of my armor away.
The world narrows to the taste of her, the sound of her breath, the sharp pull of her nails against my skin.
When I finally tear my mouth from hers, I rest my head against the wall, chest heaving, blood roaring in my ears. She sits beside me, lips swollen, hair tangled, eyes blazing with a storm I’ve never seen in her before.
We don’t speak. Words would ruin this fragile thing hanging between us, this moment balanced on the edge of ruin and desire.
Her hand lingers on my chest, fingers curled in the fabric like she can’t decide whether to shove me away or pull me closer.
I cover her hand with mine, not to hold her but to feel her warmth, to remind myself she’s real.
She looks at me, and for the first time I can’t read what’s in her eyes. Hate, yes. Hunger, yes. Beneath it, something I don’t dare name.
My voice comes low, hoarse. “I shouldn’t be here.”
Her fingers tighten against me. “Then go.”
I don’t move. Neither does she. The silence swells, thick and dangerous, until her lips part and she pulls me back down into another kiss.
This one is slower, deeper, though no less desperate. My hand cradles her face, thumb brushing the damp line beneath her eye. She shivers but doesn’t pull away.
I kiss her until breathing becomes impossible, until the world outside this room ceases to exist.
When we finally break apart, our foreheads rest together, both of us shaking, both of us lost.
She whispers, voice ragged, “This doesn’t change anything.”
I nod, though my chest aches. “I know.”
We don’t speak. Her breath is still hot against my mouth, the imprint of her lips burning into me like a brand. She’s pressed against me, hands still curled in my shirt, and every inch of restraint I’ve held on to feels shredded.
My gaze drops to her mouth again. Swollen. Red. Her eyes catch mine, unflinching, daring. The silence stretches, taut as wire. Then she tugs at me, not away but closer, and something in me snaps.
I scoop her up without thinking, her legs wrapping around my waist, her body yielding to mine.
The move isn’t rough, not tonight. It’s urgent, charged, but not violent.
She buries her face in my neck as I carry her the short distance to the bed.
The scent of her hair fills me, sharp and sweet, cutting through the fog in my head.
I lower her onto the mattress, bracing my weight so I don’t crush her. For a second I hesitate, watching the way her chest rises fast beneath me. She doesn’t shove me off this time. Her hands grip my shoulders, pulling me down instead.
My mouth claims hers again, deeper now, her tongue sliding against mine, her teeth catching my lower lip.
The heat that coils through me is raw, almost unbearable.
I press my body into hers, feeling the soft give of her curves against the hard line of me.
She moans into my mouth, a sound that makes my control splinter.
She yanks at the hem of my shirt, desperate hands pushing it up. I break the kiss long enough to rip it off, tossing it to the floor. Her eyes rake over me, sharp and hungry, and for once I don’t look away. I let her see me, scars and all, every mark left by the life I’ve lived.
Her fingers trace along my chest, nails scraping lightly over muscle, then sliding down, lower, teasing at the waistband of my pants. My body shudders at the touch. I grab her wrist, not to stop her but to slow us, to remind myself I still have control.
“No games,” I rasp, voice rougher than I intend.
Her answering smile is bitter and sweet all at once. “Then stop pretending.”
I crush my mouth to hers again, swallowing the words, kissing her until she gasps into me.
My hand slides beneath her shirt, palm splayed against warm skin.
She arches into the touch, her breath catching.
I shove the fabric up, baring her to me.
She pulls it over her head herself, tossing it aside, daring me with her eyes to look away.
I don’t.
Her bra is simple, black, the lace worn soft against my fingertips as I slip the straps down her shoulders. She arches her back, unfastening it herself, letting it fall. The sight of her bare chest steals my breath.
She’s flawless and imperfect all at once, and I can’t resist leaning down, taking one peaked nipple into my mouth. She gasps, her hand tangling in my hair, pulling me closer as I lick and suck, teasing her until her body trembles beneath mine.
Her thighs shift restlessly, rubbing together, begging for more.
I trail my hand down her stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her jeans.
She lifts her hips, helping me as I undo the button and slide them down.
They hit the floor, leaving her in nothing but thin panties, dark with damp.
My cock throbs painfully against the confines of my pants, but I make myself slow, make myself taste her.
I slide my hand between her legs, pressing against the heat of her through the fabric.
She cries out, hips jerking, clutching at my arms. I rub slow circles, feeling her grow wetter with each pass, the thin cotton clinging to her.
“Alexei,” she gasps, voice breaking, and it wrecks me.