Chapter 18 Yulian
YULIAN
Iopen my eyes to a void of white.
For a second, I think I’m back at the hospital where I saw my mother in her final days.
My heartbeat skyrockets, and I expect the machines to start beeping and freaking the hell out.
Silence.
Long, stretching silence.
Memories of the crashing waves trickle back in, and I grunt. Okay, so that wasn’t one of my brightest ideas per se, and I’m pretty sure I underestimated how strong those damned waves could get. I was swimming to the surface in full-blown survival mode, only to get knocked back down again.
And then what…?
Holy shit. I sit up in bed—is this my bed in hell? I expected something less comfy.
Seriously, though, someone tell me that wasn’t the end, and I didn’t in fact die in the freaking ocean.
No, come on, that’s so lame. I want to go out in battle like a badass warrior.
Wait. Hold on.
I remember large hands gripping my waist and slapping my face and…
Very typical of my brain to black out at the good part. Need to ask Cy for supplement recommendations because this shit’s serious.
I pinch myself and it hurts, so that means I’m totally alive—you can’t have me yet, Satan. Go sit in the corner.
Then it hits me—the reason I’m alive is because of Vaughn.
I think.
At least, I hope.
I mean, no one else was there—again, I hope—so he must’ve been the one who saved me. I don’t remember swimming to the shore.
Running a hand through my damp hair, I take a look at myself and grin so wide, because guess what?
I’m naked beneath the duvet.
Yup. Completely in the nude.
Please tell me Vaughn removed my clothes. I’d pay my entire fortune to see him do that, and Cy’s too—he’d do that for me. What are bros for, am I right?
My focus sharpens on the room around me.
It’s cozy, dark wallpaper patterned with leaves wrapping the walls.
A lamp in the corner spills soft orange light across the wooden floor.
The decor is simple, elegant, and structured—the kind of place I can easily imagine Vaughn living in.
Nothing like my badass room with lots of shit everywhere.
Though I believe this is an upscale hotel, not really a house.
The sliding door creaks open inch by inch, and I hold my breath as Vaughn’s head slips through the gap. He freezes the moment his gaze collides with mine.
Fuck.
Fuck me all the way to hell.
I had hoped he’d be here, but I never dared to have too much hope. But there he is.
Right here.
I grin.
He scowls.
God, I love the guy’s grumpiness more than I should. I’m a certified masochist when it comes to him, it seems. Thank you very much.
He steps in, clad in black shorts and a gray T-shirt that hugs his bulging muscles, his biceps flexing when he leans against the wall next to the door and crosses his arms.
Vaughn looks devastating even in loungewear and with damp hair framing his forehead. It’s the way he carries himself—always composed elegance wrapped in control, his expression cool, locked behind the mask he wears so well.
“Where is this place?” I ask, my voice raspier than usual. “Somewhere on the island? How did you get me here?”
“Since you’re awake,” he says in his usual bored, calm tone, ignoring all of my questions. “Off you go.”
I point at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s two in the morning. You can’t possibly expect me to leave.”
“I absolutely do. Taxis run twenty-four hours a day.”
“You’re so heartless. I almost died and all you do is kick me out?”
“It’s not my fault you threw yourself off a cliff, Yulian.” His tone drops, rough and sharp, every word coiled tight like he wants to choke me.
“It kind of is.”
“Excuse me?”
“I had to prove myself to you in some way. You’re kind of hard to impress.”
His upper lip lifts almost in a snarl before he breathes in and out audibly, stops, then smooths his expression. “You threw yourself off a cliff because I’m…hard to impress?”
“Uh-huh. It was a gamble to see if you’d give me a chance, and I won, by the way.”
“You won?”
“Yeah, I didn’t die.”
“Because I saved you.”
“Still didn’t die. Method doesn’t matter, only the result does.”
“Is…your life worth that little to you? Why do you not care whether you live or die?” He exhales a long, tense breath. “Actually, don’t answer that. Just forget it—and leave.”
He starts toward the door, but I’m jumping up from the bed. My foot gets tangled in the duvet, and I lose my balance, but I catch myself, then jog toward him and grab his wrist just when he’s about to leave.
Because fuck that. I won’t allow him to.
Not now.
Not ever, actually.
But let’s not think about that part, because the idea of being in the uncertain for a long time kind of short-circuits my brain.
I haul Vaughn against me. He resists at first, but I’m able to slam him against the wall, not only due to strength—though I use it—but mainly because the moment his eyes drag over me, he turns his head to the side and stops fighting.
The sharp muscles in his jaw flex, and his hand balls into a fist.
“Put something on. I asked the hotel staff to place fresh clothes in the closet,” he speaks from between gritted teeth.
That’s when I realize he’s lost the fight because he saw me in my full naked glory.
Something inside me snaps.
Maybe it’s the tension that could be cut with a knife.
Or the irrational need I have for this motherfucker on the regular.
Or the fact that he’ll leave again, and I’ll be the one dealing with the fallout of the obsession.
As usual.
So I squeeze his wrist tighter as I lean closer, my mouth just a few agonizing breaths from his jaw. He visibly tenses, that brain of his probably conjuring a flight response, but I’ll be damned if I let him slip from between my fingers.
Vaughn has always been someone I’ve never fully grasped, but not tonight.
Tonight, I’ll take what I want.
My voice drops as I speak near his jaw, “You’re the one who removed my clothes, no?”
“Because they were wet,” he says in a firm voice that cracks at the edges.
“Hmm. I’ll take your word for it. Besides.” I lower my voice further, licking my lips. “You can look again, you know. I don’t mind. Unless…” I pause, distracted by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows thickly. “You can’t resist me?”
He jerks his face toward me, his lips pursed, and it’s a shame, because now our lips are so close, if he just parted them a little, I would—
“I’m looking at you, now what?” He speaks calmly, trying his hardest to sound bored, but the tension beneath his words betrays him.
I lean forward, but he slams his palm over my lips. “Don’t you fucking dare, Yulian.”
I take his other hand and slide it slowly up the length of my thigh. My cock jumps to life, performing a goddamn standing ovation at the mere promise of Vaughn’s touch.
A rush of endorphins spills into my blood as my skin lights on fire and my heart beats so loud, I think I’m going to have an attack.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Just his hand on me is giving me pleasure I’ve never experienced before.
And I’m ravenous for it.
For him.
For fucking more.
So I guide his hand higher, closer to where my cock is basically jumping out of its skin for contact.
The entire time, my gaze remains on Vaughn. He drops his palm from my mouth, his hooded forest-like eyes zeroing in on his hand that’s on my cock.
I expect him to fight or try to remove it.
Or worse—punch or curse me or warn me not to touch him, but he’s frozen.
No, not frozen.
Riveted.
He’s completely caught in an unreachable focus zone.
His eyes darken and his nostrils flare as I plant his palm on my cock. He must feel it, too—the way it throbs as if vibrating with the same tension coursing through his body—because his pupils dilate and his hand twitches.
It’s as if he’s waiting for something—what, I don’t know, and I don’t give a fuck because my head’s on cloud nine and my heart is spilling into my throat with how crazy it’s beating.
“Fuuuck,” I groan, breathing heavily. “You feel how hard I am because of you, baby?”
He swallows thickly, the tendons in his neck bunching as he grabs my cock in a harsh, unforgiving grip. Of course it gets harder since it’s a literal dick and all.
A shadow cuts across Vaughn’s face at my reaction, his hand crushing tighter around me.
“Because of me?” His voice drops, his glare pinning me in place. “Is that what you tell everyone who touches your cock, Yulian? Hmm?”
I groan because, truly, he’s so hot when he’s a ball of angry grumpiness. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” he repeats in a low voice.
He squeezes me tight, pain sparking in my throbbing cock as his other hand clamps around my throat. In one motion, he swings me, slamming me against the wall. The table in the corner jolts, and a vase explodes on the floor.
Vaughn doesn’t release me. If anything, he’s so much more into my space, I breathe him in with every inhale.
Fuck me.
I meant to tease him, but I didn’t realize I’d poked the devil. His eyes are furious, his nostrils are flaring, and he’s jerking me off with such delicious pressure, I think I’ll come here and now.
Seems he really doesn’t like the idea of me with other people.
And because I’m a total goddamn tease, I grab his waist, my hand slipping under his shirt and onto his hip. “Why? You don’t like that I fuck anyone and everyone I wish?”
“Shut your mouth.” He squeezes the crown of my cock, and my head falls back against the wall, and I’m barely sucking in air through his ruthless grip on my throat.
He rubs me up and down in rough, long movements, eliciting sharp tingles down my spine. All my blood rushes to where his hand strokes my very purple, angry skin.
“You’re a fucking whore,” he speaks low in my ear. “An irresponsible piece of shit who doesn’t know how to keep his cock on a leash.”
“You’re right.” I reach beneath the waistband of his shorts and lick my lips when I find his cock so hard, he’s leaking against the fabric. “I’m horny all the time because of you, baby.”