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“I may not know everything.But I know you.” He lifts me onto his desk. Without meaning to, my legs wrap around his waist. “I’m far from perfect. I’m going to make mistakes. But I’ll never stop trying.”
His fingers brush over my thighs, up and down, following the rhythm of my ragged breathing.
It’s been so long since he’s touched me like this…
“I should go…”
“No. Stay.” His thumbs work over my thighs, slipping along the insides of my legs.
“We shouldn’t… This can’t happen…” My heart is in my throat and hammering in my chest and thrumming between my legs. It’s been so long since I felt like this that I thought maybe I was broken. But now, my body is making up for lost time.
“What do you think is about to happen?” He gently slides me to the edge of his desk. My legs open for him, parting until I feel the hard evidence of his need against my center.
“Nothing is sorted between us, Arsen,” I force out, trying to ignore the way his hand is sliding beneath the hem of my skirt. “We’re blurring a lot of lines.”
“The lines are pretty fucking blurred already, baby.” He pushes a lock of my hair back behind my ear. Then, just when I’ve made up my mind that I’m going to push him off me and get the hell out of here, he drops his lips to my neck.
I bury my fist in his shirt and tip my head back, giving him better access.
“There’s nothing blurry about that.” I feel his smile against my skin. “There’s nothing blurry about what I want.”
I can’t think with his lips on my neck. With his thumb tracing the line of my panties. With his palm kneading the hard point of my nipple.
“Arsen…” I mean to follow that up with a well-thought-out argument for why this is a mistake and why he should take his hands—and his lips—off of my body.
But all I manage is his name. His name in a breathy, whispered moan.
That’s all the invitation he needs.
Arsen kisses my neck and my collarbone and my ribs, gently working down my body as he pushes me back on his desk. He shoves my skirt around my waist, and I don’t have the capacity to do anything but lift my hips when he tugs my panties free, flicking them over his shoulder.
“I missed you,” he whispers, his breath warm across the scar that twists over my hip. “I missed all of you. This.Us.”
I want to agree, but I don’t even know what “this” is. We aren’t back together… are we?
The blurry lines become damn near invisible as Arsen hooks his hands around my hips and lifts me to his mouth.
I grip the edge of the desk, desperate for some way to ground myself as the world as I know it crumbles around me. There’s nothing except Arsen’s lips, his tongue. The press of his hands into my ass like he can’t get me close enough.
I know doing this with Arsen isn’t a good idea, but that doesn’t stop this from feeling like the best decision of my life.
I rake my fingers through his hair and drag him closer. “More,” I pant.
But as soon as the word is out of me, he’s gone.
I blink my eyes open and find him over top of me. He looks as lost in this as I feel. He’s breathing heavily, his lips swollen. I stretch up to kiss him, squeezing my eyes closed because, yes, I definitely missed this.
Then I unbutton his pants, and we shove them down together.
There’s a fleeting moment when I feel him pressing into me that I think we could stop this here and reclaim some sense of boundaries, but the thought shatters as he fills me.
There’s no going back from this. From him.
No matter what happens with us from this moment on, this part of me will always belong to Arsen Adamov. I’ll always want this.
“Laila.” He growls my name, banding an arm around my back to haul me against his chest.
He tips my head so our eyes meet, but he doesn’t kiss me. He doesn’t bring me closer. He just holds my gaze as he fills me again and again. Like he wants me to remember it was him. As if there is any chance I could ever forget.
