Cum drips down my thighs and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from moaning.
An inked hand wraps around my wrist and a large chest presses against my back, his half-erect cock nudging on my sore arse. I ignore the shiver that spreads through me as I glance at him. Nikolai leans his chin on my shoulder, head cocked to the side, watching me with that slight manic expression from earlier. Though it seems a bit subdued now.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Uh…shower.” Why do I sound so hoarse?
His lips curve in a slightly evil grin. “Can I join?”
“No.” I pause when his smile disappears, then sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m not comfortable with that.”
“I’ll wait until you’re comfortable, then.” His grin returns and I want to kiss it, but I don’t, because that’s just fucking desperate. “Thanks, baby.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me back.”
“Bringing you back from where?”
“Somewhere unpleasant.” He smacks my arse. “Go get that sexy body all soaped up and try not to think of me.”
“Nikolai!” I swat his hand away, resisting the tingles that rush through me as I escape to the en suite bathroom and hop into the shower.
It’s a bit weird to get the cum off me, but I manage to do it, hissing when I touch my rim and literally fuck myself to wash away the evidence of the best sex I’ve ever had.
I have to stop before I start moaning and Nikolai decides he’s not going to wait outside, after all.
Is that what I want him to do?
He told me not to think of him, but here I am completely taken by the bastard. I blame his vicious determination. In hindsight, I had no chance against him.
Some might say what happened just now was only a matter of time.
A smile pulls my lips as I step out on the foot towel, careful not to drip on the floor.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and my smile instantly drops.
What gives you the right to be happy after everything you’ve done?
I try to swallow, but the lump gets stuck and I feel my airways closing.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I cut off eye contact, mindlessly pulling a towel from the rack and quickly drying myself, then wrapping another towel around my waist.
My vision is blurry, but I can’t get out of there fast enough.
Run away, Bran. Just run the fuck away—
My movements and thoughts come to a sudden halt when I find a massive man sitting on the floor right by the bathroom door, still naked, and…is he…
I lean over and tentatively stroke his hair away from his face. No doubt about it. He’s actually asleep.
I can’t resist the chuckle that leaves my lips.
Why am I not surprised he’d fall asleep anywhere and in any position?
Though…does this mean he was waiting for me?
Get over yourself.
I reluctantly release his gorgeous hair and head to the bed so I can get him a blanket, but that’s when I notice he didn’t change the sheets and pinch the bridge of my nose.
This man-child, I swear.
I locate the clean sheets in the cupboard and meticulously change them. I manage to support his stupidly muscled body against my shoulder, then drop him on the bed.
Through it all, he doesn’t even groan. Deep sleeper, it is.
He sprawls his legs all over the super king-sized bed and uses his hand as a pillow. His hair spreads out on the sheet like silk, and I can’t help ghosting my hand over it before I pull the blanket over him.
I pause when I see my dried cum on his stomach. I should probably clean that…
No. I like the sign of ownership.
After I cover him, I shove the old sheets into the washing machine and then hit the cold cycle.
Once that’s done, I hunt for my clothes and put them on. For some reason, I find my feet leading me back to the bedroom like a magnet. I stand at the entrance, staring at Nikolai.
A part of me wants to stay, maybe not in the same bed since that’s…strange, I suppose. But just around.
That contemplation shatters when the image from earlier comes back like a curse and I physically force myself to walk to the lift.
This small moment of pleasure is all the reprieve my demons can offer.
I can’t let him see me like this.
And he won’t.
Because I’m fucking fine.
17
NIKOLAI
I knew something was fucking wrong when I woke up in bed.
Me? In a fucking bed?
Hello, Satan. This is Kolya reporting live from somewhere in hell and telling you to kindly fuck off. We’re not ready to go yet.
I blink a few times and the room, that’s definitely not some edgy hellhole, comes into view.
The penthouse…?
I sit up with a sudden jerk, all sleep disappearing from my eyes.
Nah, fuck no. I was clearly sitting outside the bathroom waiting for Bran to finish his shower and then…what? I don’t remember going to bed.
I wouldn’t go to bed or cover myself, not even if I were drunk. That’s just blasphemy.
My face breaks into a grin. Does this mean Bran carried me to the bed? I inspect the clean sheets that I certainly didn’t change and yup, definitely him. He’s organized to the point of being a bit neurotic. Or a lot, depending on your definition of the word.
Now, I want to kick myself in the ass for not feeling him carry me, wrap his arms around me, and cover me. Fuck. I’m getting hard at the thought.
My Prince Charming is actually stronger than he looks. Even Jeremy and my cousins don’t carry or move me when I fall asleep in unusual places or situations.
The images of him touching and placing me up here are muddied by the other lingering thought. I stand up and don’t bother putting any clothes on as I stride to the living room. “Lotus flower?”
I know he’s not there before I search. There’s no trace of his clothes, his presence, or anything remotely similar. If it weren’t for the itch he left beneath my skin last night, I wouldn’t think he’d been here. He even washed the sheets that carried his scent, as if he wanted to erase what happened from memory.
Not fucking possible.
Last night was the best sex of my life, and it’s not about the sex per se, though that was fucking hot. It’s about him.
The way he cried out my name and held on to me and kissed me. The way he let me in. Even demanded it.
Why the fuck did I think he’d choose to stay this time?
He doesn’t. It’s not what he does.
It’s not what I usually want, either. I don’t like sharing space with my fuck buddies outside of sex. They’re welcome to stay the night in the Heathens' mansion, but only if they’re not in my immediate vicinity.
So why the fuck do I feel any other way about Bran?
Maybe it’s the fact that you call him that and a few other nicknames, not to mention the fact that you got this fucking place just so he’d feel safe away from everyone else?
Yeah, so I did that. He’s always paranoid about people and their meaningless fucking opinions, so I thought he’d feel more comfortable in a place that’s only for us. I mean, for him to meet me here.
There is no us.
Apparently, he didn’t feel safe enough to stay.
I stroke my necklace and catch a glimpse of the clock. Ten a.m.
Motherfucker.