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The door swung open, its hinges creaking softly, as she entered the dimly lit library. Moonlight spilled through the windows, casting a gentle glow mingling with the flickering flames of the fireplace.
As the door closed behind her, it shut out the outside world, sealing us.
Leaning back, I exhaled a puff of cigar smoke, feeling her presence fill the air. Every nerve in my body tingled, craving her.
She had become my addiction, my favorite drug.
Sinking deeper into the plush sofa, I absentmindedly traced my fingers over my naked chest and throbbing wound, trying to dismiss her, but unable to ignore her effect on me.
Closing my eyes, I took another drag from my cigar, hearing her bare feet padding towards me. Her almond scent enveloped me in a familiar embrace as the sofa sank down beside me when she settled next to me.
With a gentle touch, she reached for my wound, her hand delicately grazing my skin.
I felt her lips press against it.
Her hair brushed against my skin, tickling me slightly.
“Is that okay?” she asked softly.
With my eyes still closed, I nodded, gently caressing her hair and tracing soothing circles along her back with my hand.
Her lips continued trailing kisses across my chest, ribs, and abs.
I let out a low growl as her lips grazed my v-line, taking a drag of the cigar, trying to play it cool, not letting her know how much I wanted and needed her.
Finally, she planted one final, lingering kiss on my chest, a sweet imprint of her wet lips on my heated skin.
With a content sigh, she encircled me with her arms, drawing me closer.
She felt too damn good.
“I thought you were gonna die tonight,” she said softly.
Her words struck me, and it took a moment to process them.
“I almost did.”
I opened my eyes to find her relaxed body against mine.
She had freshened up, now in black jeans and a cozy sweater.
I wondered if she was disappointed that I had managed to survive.
“Disappointed?” I asked.
Her eyes softened with concern, yet there was something more, something that made my heart flutter.
“No.” she whispered, her fingers lightly grazing my abs. “I don’t want you to die, Mikhaïl.”
I put the cigar back in my mouth and took a puff to try and conceal the lump in my throat.
“Well, maybe you should.”
The air hung heavy between us as she sat up, her knuckles gently stroking my cheek. I turned my face, planting a soft kiss on the palm of her hand. Our eyes met, and a soft smile formed on her lips, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, as if something weighed heavily on her heart.
“So,” she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper, “this is goodbye?”
With Igor gone, the responsibility now rested on my shoulders, and I had made up my mind.
