20. Ruslan
20
RUSLAN
Her hand feels small in mine. Delicate fingers entwined with my tattooed ones.
The contrast only highlights how different we are, yet how perfectly we fit together.
The world blurs outside the tinted windows as we're being driven toward our meeting with the wedding planner.
Something has changed between us the other night.
Both of us came dangerously close to revealing the cracks in our carefully constructed walls.
When I admitted my ridiculous fear of spiders, her laugh had caught me off guard. It wasn't polite or practiced, but genuine as it bubbles up from somewhere deep and unguarded.
The sound wrapped around me like a warm embrace, making me want to tell her a hundred more embarrassing truths just to hear it again.
Then there was that moment when I confessed my own fear that I wouldn't be able to keep her safe. But more importantly, that I cared about her.
I expected her to pull away, to reject the weight of what I was offering. But she didn't. Instead, she leaned in, those hazel eyes searching mine for lies she didn't find.
But what haunts me most was how quickly darkness shadowed her face when she spoke of being on stage. The memory of playing Beatrice lit her face up. But that fire was also extinguished just as quickly.
I recognized that abrupt retreat into herself.
Something happened seven years ago that stole not just her safety but her dreams.
It's the monster she's running from. Her stalker.
Whoever he is, he didn't just scare her.
He destroyed the woman she used to be.
And if I ever find him, I'll destroy him for hurting her.
I notice Aurora's sharp intake of breath and realize my grip on her hand has tightened. My thoughts of vengeance against her stalker have made me unconsciously clench my fingers around hers.
"Sorry," I murmur, immediately loosening my hold. Her delicate hand feels so fragile against mine. "Did I hurt you?"
"No." Her voice is soft, reassuring. "I'm fine."
"How did you sleep?" I ask, my eyes taking in Aurora's profile. The morning light catches the golden strands in her dirty blonde hair.
"Fine." Her voice carries that hint of laughter that first drew me in, though I can tell it's a practiced response.
She's lying. The slight darkness beneath those hazel eyes tells me she probably tossed and turned all night, just as I did.
"Fine?" I arch an eyebrow, my thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. "That's all I get? Just 'fine'?"
Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. "What were you expecting? A detailed report?"
"Maybe." I lean closer, close enough that I can smell the coconut from her lotion. "I wanted to find out if your sleep was as troubled as mine."
"Troubled?" She turns her face toward me, concern flickering across her features. "Why couldn't you sleep?"
I drop my voice lower, meant only for her ears despite us being alone in the back seat. "Because a certain woman kept invading my thoughts. I couldn't close my eyes without seeing her sprawled across my dining table."
Her cheeks flush immediately, the color spreading down her neck. The reaction emboldens me.
"Every time I started to drift off, I'd remember the sounds she made when she came apart under my tongue."
"Ruslan..." Her voice is barely a whisper.
"Tell me the truth, zarechka . Did you sleep well?"
Aurora swallows hard, her eyes darting to Artyom in the driver's seat before returning to mine. "No," she finally admits. "I couldn't stop thinking about... what happened."
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her skin. "And what did you do about these thoughts?"
Her flush deepens, and she looks down at our intertwined hands. "I..." she starts, then stops.
"Tell me," I urge gently.
When she looks up, there's both embarrassment and defiance in her eyes. "I touched myself," she confesses, voice trembling slightly. "Remembering what you did to me."
The admission shoots straight to my groin. I inhale sharply, trying to maintain my composure.
"That makes two of us, then," I admit, my voice rougher than I intended.
Her lips part slightly. "Really?"
"Did you think you were the only one affected by what happened between us?"
A charged silence fills the interior and I'm suddenly glad for the partition that separates us from the driver. Aurora's hazel eyes lock onto mine, her pupils dilated so wide that they look almost black.
My heart pounds against my ribs in a way I've never experienced before.
Aurora is like no other woman I've ever been with.
With Aurora, my body burns for her, yes. The memory of her taste flooding my mouth last night is sweet. But what I want from her is so much more than sex.
When she's near me, and I catch that hint of coconut from her hair, I don't just want to fuck her. I want to know her. All of her.
The parts she shows everyone, and especially those secret, broken pieces she hides from the world.
I want to gather those fragments in my hands and piece them back together so that I might treasure them.
Protect them.
Protect her.
The need roars through me like a physical force. I would kill for this woman. I would die for her. I would burn down all of Los Angeles for her.
My thumb brushes over her knuckles, and I'm struck by the contrast. My hands are weapons. They've hurt, they've threatened, and they've even killed. Yet they can only ever be gentle with her. They can only ever draw those breathless sounds from her lips.
They can only ever make her feel safe.
"What are you thinking about?" she whispers, her thumb mirroring mine as she traces patterns on my skin.
I could lie. I should lie. With anyone else, I would.
Instead, I tell her the truth.
"I'm thinking that I've never felt this way before." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "With you, it's not just about sex, Aurora. When you're near me, I want..."
I pause, searching for words that won't frighten her away.
"You want what?" Her voice is so soft, encouraging.
"I want to know you. Really know you. Your thoughts, your fears. What makes you laugh. What makes you cry." I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss against her palm. "I want to protect you from whatever and whoever is chasing you."
I continue, my voice dropping even lower. "Last night, I caught a glimpse beneath all these walls you've built. I saw a flash of who you really are."
Aurora's eyes dart away, her lips curving into that defensive smile I'm beginning to recognize. "A woman who's never been properly pleased?"
Her attempt at deflection is endearing and obvious, using humor to avoid vulnerability.
I cup her cheek, gently turning her face back to mine.
"No, zarechka . That's not what I saw." My thumb traces the line of her cheekbone. "I saw a woman forced to run for so long that she's forgotten what it means to let her guard down for even a moment."
The playfulness vanishes from her expression, replaced by something raw and unguarded.
"A woman who laughed about my fear of spiders. Who spoke with such longing about being on stage. Who looked at me not with fear but with desire." I lean closer, my forehead nearly touching hers. "The woman who trusted me enough to come apart in my arms. I would very much like to see that woman again."
Aurora's eyes glisten with unshed tears. I can feel her trembling beneath my touch.
"Careful," she whispers. "You're making it sound like you might actually like me."
"Isn't this what we agreed on?" I ask. "To make this marriage look convincing?"
"And who are you trying to convince right now?"
"No-one," I say. "Maybe when I'm with you, I don't need to look convincing. Maybe when I'm with you, I don't feel like I need to pretend."
Her gaze searches mine, looking for the lie. But there is no lie, not about this. Whatever else may stand between us. My past and her secrets. This one truth remains.
I will keep her safe.
I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to hers in a gentle kiss. Not demanding or possessive like last night, but tender. A promise.
As my lips press against Aurora's, I find myself sinking into her. Her mouth is soft, yielding.
Her lips part to invite me further, and I accept her silent offer without hesitation. My fingers tangle in her silky hair as I draw her closer. Her hand reaches for the nape of my neck, pulling me towards her with surprising strength. Like she wants to erase any space between us.
As our kiss deepens, I know that this is something deeper. A connection I've denied myself for nineteen long years.
And I want it. God, I didn't know how bad I wanted it until now.
There's something miraculous happening here. She's trusting me with her body, with her pleasure. After running for so long, after being hunted, she chooses to let her guard down with me.
And I'm trusting her with pieces of myself I've kept locked away from the world. Somehow, we've slipped past each other's defenses without even trying.
When her tongue slides against mine, I hear myself groan. The sound surprises me. I'm not a man who loses control. But with Aurora, control feels less important than connection.
This isn't just desire.
It's surrender.
For both of us.
My hand slides along her thigh, feeling the smooth skin under her dress. I meant it as comfort, as connection, but Aurora has other ideas.
She takes my hand in hers, guiding it without hesitation up the tantalizing length of her thigh until I find her delicious center. The heat of her surprises me, even after last night.
I break our kiss, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, dark with desire, challenging me. She guides my finger past the thin fabric of her panties until it slips against her slick arousal, and she bites her lower lip, stifling a moan.
Then, she pulls my hand away and brings it up to her face. Without ever taking her eyes off mine, she closes her lips around the glistening tip of my finger and swirls her tongue around the digit.
My body goes rigid, desire coursing through me like liquid fire.
When she releases my finger, her lips curve into a smile that's both innocent and wicked.
"Next time you're thinking about me, don't touch yourself." She leans forward, her lips brushing against my ear. "Just come find me instead."