Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte
We didn't speak a word during the cab ride home.
When we arrived we breezed past the doorman hurried toward the bank of elevators. As soon as one opened we stepped inside, and suddenly the air felt heavier. Denser. Electric. Katya stood close—too close for rational thought, but not close enough for what I wanted.
Jesus, I wanted her. God, I wanted her so much it hurt. But beneath that heat, I felt a sliver of ice.
My speech.The one where I danced around the truth.
The one where I folded to political pressure and sold my soul with every line.
I hadn’t named Belaruska’s abuses, or the election fraud.
Hadn’t called out the atrocities I knew were happening.
And Katya—Katya knew all about it. She’d lived through it.
Fought against it. Risked everything to escape it. How could she want me after that?
My mouth parted, my confession on the tip of my tongue. But Katya reached up, her eyes dark and gleaming, and pressed her index finger gently against my lips.
“I want to do something much more fun with your mouth than talk,” she whispered.
And then she kissed me. Her lips were soft and insistent, tasting of need and rebellion.
I melted into her, clutching her waist as the kiss deepened, became hungrier, and more desperate.
My bag slipped off my shoulder, forgotten on the floor.
She backed me into the elevator wall, hands threading into my hair, mouth claiming me like she already knew every secret I was about to confess—and forgave me anyway.
The ding of the elevator cut through the haze. My floor.
Katya grabbed my hand, pulling me out with the confidence of someone who’d already decided how the night would end. I grabbed my purse and stumbled after her, breathless and aching.
My fingers trembled as I dug for my keys, heart racing. She pressed against my back, her breath warm against my neck.
“Hurry,” she murmured.
I managed to get the door open. We didn’t even bother with the lights. Inside, she turned me to face her and kissed me again—harder, deeper, like she wanted to devour the shame right out of me.Then her fingers laced with mine and she led me to the bedroom.
City lights poured in through the window, painting silver across the sheets. Katya paused at the foot of the bed, her eyes roaming over me as if she were memorizing every curve, every hesitation.
I wanted to speak again—to say I’m sorry, to explain, to warn her that I wasn’t who she thought I was. But she reached for the hem of my blouse and pulled it over my head before I could.
“No words,” she said, voice husky, low. “All I want is you.”
She kissed down my neck, my chest, her lips brushing across the swell of my breasts, I felt it—something raw and terrifying blooming inside me.
I was falling for her, and I didn’t want this feeling to stop.
Katya peeled off her shirt, revealing skin like ivory lit by flame. My breath caught in my throat. She was exquisite—sharp and soft, fierce and tender, like something out of a fever dream. I couldn’t believe she was real. That she was here. That she wanted me.
My bra followed, her fingers sliding under the straps with a reverence that made me shiver. She cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing slowly over my nipples until I gasped. Every nerve ending came alive, reaching for her.
She kissed me again, deeper this time, her tongue teasing mine until I was dizzy with it. She tasted like wine and fire and something wickedly sweet.
My hands found the waistband of her jeans, tugging them down over her hips. She stepped out of them, standing before me in nothing but a scrap of black lace that barely concealed the wetness soaking through.
God help me.
I wanted to fall to my knees and worship her. But she beat me to it.
Katya sank to the floor, her hands stroking up my thighs as she eased my pants and panties down in one fluid motion.
Her mouth pressed a kiss to my inner thigh—then higher.
I reached for her, desperate to pull her up to me, to feel the heat of her body against mine. But she looked up at me, eyes blazing.
“Lie down,” she said. “Let me show you how I feel.”
I obeyed, heart pounding, legs trembling as I climbed onto the bed. She joined me, crawling up between my thighs with the grace of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. Her hands roamed over my curves, down my stomach, and when her fingers slid through my slick folds, I nearly cried out.
“You’re already so wet,” she whispered, her voice reverent. “Is that all for me?”
“All of it,” I breathed. “God, Katya… please.”
She smiled—slow, sinful—and kissed her way down my stomach. Then lower. And when her mouth finally found me, I shattered.
Her tongue was sure and slow, then fast and relentless, coaxing me to the edge again and again, until I was sobbing her name, my hands tangled in her hair. She drew circles over my clit, flicking and sucking, teasing me until I was begging, hips lifting off the bed.
The first orgasm took me like a tidal wave crashing over a shore—wild, unstoppable. I cried out, shaking, eyes squeezed shut as my body convulsed with pleasure.
But she didn’t stop.
Katya climbed up my body, covering me with hers, her thigh pressing between mine. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, our breasts pressed together, our skin slick with sweat.
I rolled her onto her back and kissed her with everything I had—grateful, ravenous, in awe.
“Let me taste you,” I whispered. “I want to feel you fall apart.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath hitched. “Yes. Charlotte, yes.”
I kissed down her body slowly, worshipfully. Her nipples pebbled under my tongue, and her breath came in ragged gasps. And when I finally slid my fingers inside her, felt how wet and ready she was, I could’ve wept.
She arched into me, moaning my name, her thighs trembling as I stroked her, licked her, loved her. It didn’t take long. Her climax built fast, like a storm breaking.
“Charlotte—oh my God—”
She came with a cry, her body clenching around my fingers, her thighs shaking. I held her through it, whispering her name, kissing her as she collapsed against the pillows.
We lay tangled in each other afterward, our skin damp and glowing, hearts pounding in sync. She traced a lazy circle over my shoulder. “That was…”
“I know,” I whispered. “Me too.” And as I held her close, feeling the warmth of her breath on my skin, I realized something that terrified and thrilled me in equal measure.
I was falling in love with her.
Not just lust, not just politics and adrenaline and danger. Love. And I’d never felt it like this before.
Katya propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at me, her eyes searching mine as if she could read the thoughts racing behind them.
Her hair cascaded over her shoulder, a dark waterfall against her pale skin, glowing in the soft city light.
She smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips that sent a shiver down my spine.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was afraid to break the spell that had fallen over us.
I reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her cheek. "It's just... I've never felt this way before. It's scary."
Her smile softened, and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to my lips. "Me neither," she murmured. "But we don't have to be scared. Not tonight. Tonight, it's just you and me."
I nodded, pulling her down to me, needing to feel her body against mine again. She came willingly, her leg sliding between mine, her hand cupping my breast. I gasped as her thumb brushed over my nipple, feeling the heat between my legs reignite.
Katya's mouth found mine again, her kiss hungry and insistent. I matched her fervor, our tongues tangling, our breaths mingling. I could taste myself on her, and it sent a jolt of desire straight to my core.
I wanted more. I wanted all of her.
I rolled her onto her back, straddling her hips.
Her eyes widened in surprise, then darkened with lust. I leaned down, my hair curtaining around us, and kissed her deeply.
Her hands gripped my hips, her nails digging into my flesh as I began to move against her, our bodies sliding together, slick and hot.
I broke the kiss, trailing my mouth down her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. I lavished attention on each one, sucking and biting until she was writhing beneath me, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Charlotte," she moaned, her voice a plea. "Please..."
I smiled against her skin, loving the way she said my name, like a secret, a prayer.
I moved lower, kissing every inch of her as if it were sacred ground.
Her stomach quivered under my lips, her muscles tensing as I dipped my tongue into her belly button.
I looked up at her, our eyes locking, and I felt a surge of power, of connection, like nothing I'd ever experienced.
I slid down further, settling between her thighs. She was dripping wet, her scent intoxicating. I breathed her in, my heart pounding with anticipation. I wanted to savor her, to draw out her pleasure until she was begging for release.
I started with a single, slow lick, from her entrance up to her clit. Her hips bucked, a cry escaping her lips. I smiled, doing it again, and again, each time earning a gasp, a moan, a shiver. She was so responsive, so alive under my touch. It was addictive.
I wrapped my arms around her thighs, holding her in place as I explored her with my mouth. I teased her entrance with my tongue, dipping inside, tasting her, feeling her muscles clench around me. Then I moved up to her clit, circling it, flicking it, sucking it gently between my lips.
Her hands fisted in my hair, her body writhing as I brought her closer and closer to the edge. I felt her tension building, her muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. I slid two fingers inside her, curling them upwards, searching for that spot that would send her over the edge.
"Charlotte!" she cried out, her body arching off the bed as I found it. I stroked her, my fingers moving in rhythm with my tongue, her pleasure my only goal.
She came with a scream, her body convulsing, her thighs clamping around my head. When she finally relaxed, I kissed her inner thighs, her stomach, her breasts, making my way back up to her mouth. She kissed me deeply, her arms wrapping around me, holding me close.
"You're amazing," she whispered against my lips. "That was... incredible."
"And so are you."
scene 2
I woke to the soft hush of early morning light, the sky outside my window just beginning to soften into a hazy indigo.
For a moment, I didn’t move. I just lay there, watching Katya sleep beside me.
Her face was relaxed, lips parted slightly, her lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks. One arm was thrown across my chest, her body tangled loosely in the sheets.
She looked peaceful. Beautiful.
I reached out, brushing a curl of dark hair off her forehead, careful not to wake her.
My fingers tingled from the contact, from the memory of what we’d done just hours ago.
I wanted to touch her again. I wanted to press my lips to her shoulder, wake her slowly, make love to her all over again until the sun climbed high in the sky.
But I didn’t.
She needed rest. And I—I needed space to breathe.
My mind was already buzzing. I slipped out of bed, reaching for my robe and wrapping it around myself. I looked back once before quietly closing the door behind me.
The apartment was still and dim. I padded into the kitchen, barefoot, the floor cool beneath my feet. Habit guided me to the coffee maker.
Water. Filters. Grounds. Soon, the scent of fresh coffee began to bloom through the air.
I poured myself a cup, letting the heat seep into my palms. Then I walked into the living room and sat down on the edge of the sofa.
My purse was still on the coffee table, right where it had fallen last night. I hesitated. Then I reached for it. My phone was buried beneath a mess of receipts and a lipstick cap. I powered it on, bracing myself.
Seventeen new messages. Most were from colleagues at the State Department.
Incredible speech, Charlotte.
You hit the perfect tone.
Elegant and restrained. Well done.
My stomach clenched.
Elegant and restrained? Glossing over Belaruska’s crimes, and by extension, Russia's?
I rubbed my temple and scrolled down. Then I saw it.
William.
My brother’s name stopped me cold.
I opened the message, already knowing it wouldn’t be good.
Daddy is spinning in his grave after that speech. Are you bringing anyone to me and Anne’s wedding?