Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
It feels like I've stepped into the world of adulting, admitting that I want him. I want to feel his hot, branding touch all over my body. I want him to make me tremble beneath him. I want to feel him in me.
He groans as my lips graze his skin, and I reach for his waistband. His fingers tighten in my hair, a low curse slipping from his lips as he stares down at me.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers. "My entire world was ordered neat in a box, in a row. And then you came in and smashed it all to hell."
"How romantic."
He groans again, and it feels like victory. He brushes his mouth against mine. Tentatively, I reach for his glasses and gently push them up his face so I can stroke his cheek, unencumbered. I cup his jaw, loving the way his stubble pricks my palm.
He kisses me back.
"I need you," he whispers. "I have to have you, Anya. I'm afraid if I wait much longer, I won't be able to be as gentle with you as you need your first time."
My heart aches as a lump forms in my throat. He's showing a side of himself that might break through every fortress I've built.
"I need you too," I whisper back.
Then he's lifting me. My legs wrap around his torso, his thick length pressing up against my bare pussy. My silk robe does nothing to hide me from him. He's kissing me as if he needs me to breathe again, and I'm kissing him back.
Semyon wants me.
He wants me so badly. He lays me down, taking a moment to stare at me, and I can tell he likes what he sees.
Leaning on one elbow, he explores the length of my body with a touch that borders on worship, leaving goosebumps and heat in his wake—a contradiction that feels so damn right. Brushing his fingers through my hair, he gives it another tug, before he kisses my temple, kisses my lips. He inhales me as he works his way down my body until he reaches my breasts.
Everything in me rises to meet him—my hopes, my dreams, my body.
My breasts feel heavy and full, and heat pools between my legs as he laps at one hardened bud and flicks his thumb across the other.
"Do you like that?" he whispers, his brow creased with curiosity.
This is Semyon. Cataloging. Noting.
I can't make peace with the fact that this is the boy I loved—the one I thought I would hate forever. And now I'm surrendering to him. But that was then, and this is now.
"Yes, I like it.” I tug his hair. “Do it again."
His hand cracks across the fullness of my ass.
"Ask politely."
Oh god.
"Do it again, please. Please, Semyon."
"Better."
He trails the length of my body down between my legs. "Spread your legs."
I let my legs fall apart, giving him access to my slick heat. I moan when thick fingers find my folds, and he stifles a groan himself.
"Fucking gorgeous," he breathes out.
We're going to do this.
We have to.
I groan as his lips graze my skin. He's just about to kiss my belly when his phone buzzes on the nightstand—a sharp, jarring sound that shatters the moment.
Semyon's entire body grows rigid, his fingers flexing against my thigh as his gaze flicks to the phone.
"It’s Rafail."
"Ignore it," I plead, tugging at him again, but I already know he can’t. His expression darkens.
"I have to take it," he says to me. "It's law. Fuck."
I clench my fists at the loss of him and turn away when he answers the phone, angry that my eyes blur with tears.
"Yes," he growls into the phone. The momentary calm shatters as Semyon curses, his eyes swinging back to mine. Whatever Rafail just told him impacts me too.
"What? When? Are you sure?"
I scramble to my feet, alarm prickling me. I’m already heading to the closet to get dressed. "What's wrong?" I ask, my voice shaky.
He turns to me, his face a mask of ice again.
“Eli’s leaving may be more complicated than it looks.”
Chapter 13
SEMYON
I kicked a loose rock at the bank of the creek, watching it tumble into the water with a heavy splash. It was like the endless noise that lived in my head these days after my parents’ death—too loud, impossible to ignore. I thrived on routine, structure, predictability, and the past few months following their deaths had been anything but that.
Rafail had taken over, the guardian of my siblings, and as the second oldest, I helped. Zoya, the baby, was the one who struggled the most. Yana had her own struggles, different from the rest of us, and Rafail—he held it all together. Me? I was the one who struggled.
I came here to think, to get away from Rafail's constant snarking about everyone having to shape up if they wanted to stay safe and with him. He was petrified of one of us screwing up and him losing guardianship over us. Some days, it felt like the tenuous thread holding our family together was about to snap.