Chapter 17 Sera
SERA
“Unbelievable,” Keke snaps from a few rows ahead. “You’re telling me no one in New York could get to the hotel in time?”
Marco’s voice stays even. “It was six in the morning, Keke.”
A pause. There’s a soft clink of something being set down.
“I’ve already booked someone in Chicago,” Marco soothes. “They’ll be at the hotel. Deep tissue. As long as you want.”
The engine’s sound deepens as the plane begins its takeoff roll, the pressure pushing me back into my seat.
Liev’s hand slips into mine under the armrest. His thumb brushes slowly over my knuckles, and my shoulders ease.
His long fingers curl around my hand, tracing a lazy line across my palm, and heat rolls low in my stomach.
He leans closer, just enough that his shoulder touches mine. “No makeup this morning?” His voice is barely audible over the noise of the plane.
“Didn’t feel like I needed it.”
His dark eyes blaze at me. “Definitely don’t.”
Frankly, my hand had hovered over the makeup sponge for a long time this morning as I debated.
We were going straight to the plane and then to the hotel.
If Keke wanted to go out tonight, then I could reconsider.
Everyone in this room has already seen me without the makeup covering the scars when I woke up.
No one seemed to notice. However, I wasn’t feeling brave enough to pull my hair up, too. But… baby steps.
Liev leans closer, my nose filling with the smell of his spicy cologne. “You look beautiful, Seraphina.”
Butterflies attack my belly when his lips brush my jaw as he pulls away. It is a quick, light movement that could pass as accidental if anyone saw.
I know I should tell him to stop—that we shouldn’t do this while we’re working. But I can’t. I want him so badly. But the fear of what I might do when the moment comes, of what happens when he goes back to his normal life, has me hesitating.
I know Elite isn’t a career for him. He’ll go back to his bratva when this job is over, and I’ll still be here. I don’t want to let my brother down, but being so close to Liev makes me forget all the rules.
From the front, a seat shifts, fabric rustles. Liev’s fingers tighten briefly around mine, then loosen, his thumb giving one last slow stroke before he lets go.
A moment later, Marco drops into the empty seat across the aisle from us with a long sigh. “If I hear the word massage one more time today, I might lose my mind,” he mutters.
Liev lifts a brow. “Rough morning?”
Marco doesn’t respond, just scrubs a hand over his face.
I keep my gaze forward, my pulse still unsteady. After a couple of minutes, I hear Liev snore next to me. In another five, he slumps against my shoulder. My eyes cut to Marco, but he’s sound asleep with headphones on.
A glance over my shoulder shows that Dani and Keke both have their backs to me. I count to ten and then allow myself to tip my head into his. The heavy, solid weight of him on my side is so comforting that I close my eyes. I smile when he snuffles in his sleep.
I know Liev is attracted to me. That part is simple.
He hasn’t tried to hide it, and he hasn’t pushed past what I’ve been able to give.
What he hasn’t said—what he’s careful to leave untouched—is anything beyond that.
No talk of feelings. No suggestion that this is more than a proximity and chemistry kind of thing.
That should make this easier. If I tense up, or can’t follow through, he’ll be gone.
And if I don’t? What possible future is there for us?
He’s never said anything that indicates he wants a relationship. We’re experimenting. It’s just sex. The thought makes me sad in a way I don’t really want to examine.
But what if he does want more? Sometimes I catch him looking at me and I think…
I’ve been wrong before. I trusted my judgment and ignored all the warning signs before. I live with the consequences of that failure in judgment every day.
Liev doesn’t strike me as a man who does relationships.
He moves through the world with such certainty about his place in it—a place that is so different from mine, taking what he wants when he wants it.
I can’t see him reshaping his life around anyone else, and I don’t know why I’m even trying to imagine it.
His breathing deepens beside me, slow and even, and I angle my head just enough to look at him.
Sleep smooths the severity from his face.
The lines at his eyes and across his forehead soften, his constant vigilance eased for once.
He looks younger like this, less guarded.
I know, with a quiet certainty that settles low in my chest, that even if he never feels what I’m feeling, he will never knowingly hurt me.
A strange mix of longing and sadness clenches behind my ribs, and before I can reconsider, I lean in and press a lingering kiss to his hair.
I pull back, heat creeping up my neck.
What am I doing?
I’m on assignment for my brother, and I’m behaving like a teenager whose crush just fell asleep against her shoulder on the bus.
That realization should snap me back into place.
It doesn’t.
There’s no way I’m going to last until we get back to Atlanta.
Chicago is gray and cold, and by the time we escape Keke’s complaints and shut the door to our room, I feel like I’ve been gritting my teeth for hours.
She was immediately displeased when she realized her room wasn’t a suite. And she was equally thrilled to learn that, for safety reasons, the door between our adjoining rooms had to stay unlocked.
Liev places my suitcase on the floor between the two double beds.
Our home for the next three nights.
I cross to the window and pull the curtain back a few inches to stare at the traffic creeping along below us. Liev moves behind me, close enough that I catch his scent before I hear his bag hit the floor. The zipper opens. Every sound feels louder than it should.
This is ridiculous. It’s not like we didn’t sleep next to each other last night.
I turn away from the window and open my suitcase, shaking out one of my blazers before hanging it in the small closet.
“Keke has interviews all day tomorrow, and on the itinerary Todd sent, she needs to film some social media posts for her sponsors,” I say, mostly to fill the silence.
“They’re still letting her post?” Liev’s wry tone brings my attention back to him.
The smile on my face falters when I see him sitting on the edge of his bed, forearms resting loosely on his thighs.
He’s unbuttoned the top few buttons of his dress shirt, and the ink along his collarbone makes my mouth water.
Then, as if he knows what it does to me, he slowly rolls up one sleeve.
Then the other. Never breaking eye contact.
Heat floods my body so fast it almost hurts.
“Yeah,” I croak and then clear my throat. “And the event is the next day.”
A charged silence fills the small room.
“You okay?” He tilts his head. “You look nervous.”
My clothes suddenly feel too tight. “I just… need a minute.”
“We don’t have to do anything,” he says gently. “If you’ve changed your mind—”
“I haven’t.” The sound is more air than words.
A slow smile spreads across his face, and my heart pounds harder. “Do you want me to kiss you, Seraphina?”
God, yes.
I nod.
“Come here.” The demand is low and rough. “If you want this, you have to show me.”
I walk to him, stopping between his knees. “What about Keke?”
“She’s getting a massage.”
Right.
I wait for him to reach for me.
He doesn’t.
“Your move,” he murmurs.
I place my hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. The contact alone makes my breath shallow. He stays still, letting me set the pace.
I lean in and brush my mouth against his.
His breath hitches.
That’s the only encouragement I need. I kiss him again.
The contact is light. I can feel the warmth of his breath, the faint scrape of his stubble against my skin where I’ve cupped his chin. My lips move slower, firmer, until his part under mine.
He’s still holding back. I trace my tongue along his lower lip, and he groans softly, the rough sound coming from deep in his chest. I move closer until I can feel how hard he is against my belly.
His hands come to my hips, anchoring me there, not pulling, still letting me lead. I set one knee on either side of him and climb onto his lap, his dark eyes locked on mine.
“If you say stop,” he says quietly, “I stop. Immediately.”
“I know.”
That makes him smile. A slow, dangerous expression that sends tingles shooting through me. He kisses me this time, deeper than before but still careful, still letting me find my limits.
Liev’s thumbs press lightly into the fabric at my waist, as he explores my mouth, and when his hand finally slides to the back of my thigh pulling me closer, the world narrows to the need pulsing in my body and our mingled breaths.
I spear my hands through his hair and grind down on him, whimpering when I finally find the angle I need.
“Still okay?” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Yes,” I moan, still rocking and grinding against him as pressure and pleasure build inside me.
“Good.”
The kiss turns hungry. His restraint cracks just enough to make me dizzy at the hard hands clamped on my hips, urging me to move faster. Harder. My hands pull at the soft strands of his hair, causing him to give a low hum of satisfaction as he pulls me closer.
Until there is no space left between us.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I don’t flinch when I sense the heat building in him, his movements become less rhythmic as his own need overtakes him.
Hooking my ankles behind his back, I crush my body to his, knowing that I’m probably hurting him by grinding so hard, but I can’t stop.
When his hand wedges between us to cup my breast, his thumb rubbing hard over my nipple, my body explodes.