Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 93506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
The view is fucking worth it.
I place my hand on her tit and start to tease her nipple just because I obviously have no fucking control. But then I feel her steady heartbeat and a distant episode comes back to me.
It was that time in the car when she sang to me and made me feel her heartbeat. My palm stretches over her breast, and I start to listen. I’m also about to close my eyes.
But before I do that, Sasha turns to her side and glues her chest to mine. Her heartbeat collides with my hyper one as she snuggles her face in my chest and throws her leg over mine.
Fuck.
Now, I won’t move even if I have to.
“Help me, Kirill!”
“Don’t worry, Kara. I’m here,” I say in a broken voice that I wouldn’t believe if I weren’t here.
I’m hanging by a cord that’s cutting through my wrists with every passing second, and the worst part is that Karina has to watch me being tortured for fun by our fucking father’s men.
“Kirill!” She screams hauntingly until her voice turns raw and hoarse. But the men who are holding her back don’t let her move an inch.
“I’ll be okay,” I croak and manage to smile, but that triggers the pain in my swollen lips and eyes, and I cough.
The man who was tasked with beating me up slaps me across the face, then punches me in the stomach. I spit out blood as my vision turns blurry.
Oh, fuck. I think I’m going to pass out.
The last thing I see is Karina’s shocked expression, her soft face going into shock before she shrieks, “Kiriiill!”
I startle awake at the soft touch of two hands at my cheek.
“Kirill!”
“Kirill!”
“Can you hear me?”
Through the slits of my opening eyes, I see Sasha perching over me, tears clinging to her lashes and her brows creasing in a line.
Two thoughts come to mind.
One, I fell into a deep sleep around her again. In fact, it was so deep that I had a nightmare about a distant memory.
Two, Sasha must’ve witnessed something that made her this distressed.
Fuck.
This is exactly why I don’t like sleeping.
“Kirill?” she asks in a low, haunted voice that’s so similar to Karina’s that day.
I slowly sit up, and she lets out a breath as she begrudgingly releases me. I want to grab her hands and put them back on my face.
Instead, I stand up and stride to the minibar in my room. I catch the clock in my peripheral vision. Six in the morning. I actually slept for a few hours.
What the fuck is even happening to me lately?
I pour myself a glass of cognac and gulp it in one go, then pour another. There’s a rustle from the bed before Sasha wraps the blanket around her and joins me. Her eyes are glittery, but they’re more green than brown, so that’s a good sign.
“You okay?” she asks carefully.
“Couldn’t be better.” I start to drink the second glass, but she gently grips my hand, making me pause.
“You thrashed in your sleep and wouldn’t wake up no matter how many times I called your name. Was it a nightmare?”
“What if it was?”
“I know how gruesome those get. I don’t think drinking helps.”
“We’ll find out then.” I twist my hand free of hers, down the second glass, and pour a third.
This time, she snatches it and gently places it on the table. “I know something better than alcohol.”
“Doubt it.”
And then the fucking woman opens the blanket and wraps her arms and the blanket around both of us. She’s hugging me, I realize. What in the ever…
“You let me hug you when I was mourning Nadia and Nicholas, and that’s my favorite form of comfort. I know it’s not yours, but I’m giving it to you anyway. Maybe one day, you’ll come to appreciate it, too.”
My shoulders drop, and part of me wants to throw her away, but the other fucking part wants to cage her in my arms and never let go.
So I just remain still, not giving in to either.
She pulls away slightly and freezes, then runs her fingers over the new scars on my chest, courtesy of her fucking lover.
Scars I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for her.
I’m about to restart the death circle of rage and anger, but then she stares up at me with shiny eyes and sniffles. “I’m so sorry.”
“If you’re that sorry, tell me the fucker’s name.”
“I can’t do that, but I can make up for these shots for the rest of my life.”
“You’ll stay here for the rest of your life?”
“If…you want me to, yes, I will.”
A sense of raging possessiveness grabs hold of me, and I pull her close to me with a hand glued to the small of her back. “You will stay.”
“I will.”
“That wasn’t a question. It was a statement.”