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“Stop fighting it.” His breath is hot against my neck. “Stop fighting me. You know I can take care of you.”
For now,maybe.But everything is temporary, and I don’t know what my life looks like in a month or two—in a year.
Then he plunges his finger inside me, and the only thing that exists is now.
He lowers me to the floor, and I throw my arms over my head as he buries his face between my legs.
Arsen cradles my lower back, lifting me off the padded floor so he can take me as deeply as he wants. There isn’t a single part of me that’s still thinking about the pain in my hip as he thrusts his tongue into me and eats me out like the world really is ending.
By the time he withdraws, my body is warm and liquid.
When Arsen rolls me onto my side and slips behind me, I don’t feel a thing but heat. There’s only space left for desire. I hate to break it to Tyler, but physical therapy doesn’t hold a candle to what Arsen is doing to me now.
“Tell me you want me,roza.”
I grit my teeth and grind against him, but Arsen pulls back out of reach. “I’ll do it myself if I have to,” I pant.
He lines up behind me, dipping himself into me until I can’t help but gasp. Until I drop my head back against his shoulder, silently asking for more.
“If doing it yourself was enough, we wouldn’t be here,” he whispers against my skin. “There’s only me, Laila. Tell me it’s only me.”
I should hate his caveman act, should tell him to shove it all where the sun don’t shine…
But I can’t stop myself from hoping that he might need this as much as I do. That, under it all, my mom might be right: Arsen Adamov might want me as much as I want him.
But I’ve been burned too many times for full honesty. I settle on a half-truth.
“There’s no one else.”
Arsen hesitates, his hand clenching around my thigh tightly enough I wonder if he won’t leave me here, breathless and wanting and shamelessly dripping wet.
Then he thrusts fully inside of me, and I shatter.
“You can’t run from the truth forever,” he warns as he fills me again and again, tipping us both over the edge.
As I fall to pieces, all I can think is…
Watch me.
33
LAILA
“This one is beautiful!” Evelyn holds a pretty pink dress up to her chest, swaying her hips back and forth to test the twirl factor. Not that I’ll be doing any dancing tonight or anytime in the near, postpartum future.
Mom wrinkles her nose. “Laila doesn’t like florals. But this one…” She fingers an off-the-shoulder midnight blue dress with a thigh-high slit. “This one would look beautiful on you, Laila.”
“Yeah, if only I didn’t look like a beached whale.”
“You look gorgeous!” Mom chides. “Besides, beached whales don’t have men sending entire dress boutiques to their bedroom for a date night, do they?”
Arsen probably made a call and flashed a credit card under the nose of some hoity-toity designer somewhere. If he picked out even one of these dresses for me himself, I’ll eat several of the straw hats inexplicably hanging from the end of the rack.Are we going to a ballroom or a beach?
I sigh, running my hand through the gauzy blue fabric. “It is pretty. Shopping just isn’t as much fun when you’re a bazillion months pregnant.”
It’s why I chose to have Arsen send the options to the house. At least this way, I don’t have to lug my gigantic ass out in public. Plus, it meant Mom and Evelyn could be here, too. Even Polina is taking a break from her housekeeping duties to help me make a decision.
“Orange is your color,sladosti.” Polina holds a dress up to me that makes me look like an overripe mandarin.
