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Rolling out of bed, I raked a hand through my hair and staggered toward the master bath. I pushed the door open and blinked against the bright light, rubbing my eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Sasha said, not even bothering to look at me.
Ignoring his dismissal, I moved closer. He was mostly dressed the same as he was earlier, minus the suit jacket. He’d also lost the tie and top several buttons on his shirt. The white sleeves were rolled up his forearms, which was a good thing since his hands were covered in blood.
I drew in a sharp breath and met his gaze in the mirror.
He swallowed before answering my unasked question. “It’s not mine. At least, I don’t think it is.” He rinsed them under water and studied his swollen knuckles. There were a couple cuts, but there was absolutely no way the blood was all his. Which meant someone else had a really shitty night and it was all because of him.
I wanted to tell him I didn’t care whose blood it was — I didn’t like him strolling in the door at three in the morning covered inanyone’sblood like it was just another day at a dirty job. I mean, for him itwasjust another day. But this was the sort of job no one should have, let alone the man I was in a relationship with. If that’s what you could even call this thing between us.
Once his hands were clean, Sasha peeled off his clothes and tossed them in the basket for dry cleaning, stepping into the shower without a backward glance.
Shaking my head, I went back to bed even though I was officially wide awake.
On the one hand, Sasha’s “promotion” came with a lot of benefits. The high-end apartment, the pay, the prestige. But the trade off? This. Not knowing what condition he’d come home from “work” in, or if he’d come home at all. Not to mention the ever-present threat from law enforcement and other criminals.
It’s not like I could say anything, though. In a fucked-up way, I benefitted from it. As Sasha’s… whatever the hell I was, I lived in an amazing apartment rent free. He pretty much paid for everything, despite the fact I had enough jobs coming in to generate a fairly steady income. Anytime I so much as offered to pay for anything, he got offended. But it still didn’t sit well with me. It was blood money. Literally. And there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.
I was still awake when he slipped between the sheets, naked, his skin warm and damp from the shower. He scooted closer, wrapping one arm around me and pulling me against his chest. Goosebumps spread over my arms as he nuzzled the back of my neck, accompanied with a heavy exhale, like he was relieved.
Being wrapped up with him stirred up old feelings, much to my irritation. Despite the fact my dick decided to wake up too, I was sonotin the mood. Not that it would have mattered to him even if I was. Just like his work, sex was a taboo topic in the Vassiliev dwelling. Kissing was about as far as he was willing to go these days and even that ended abruptly, usually with one or both of us pissed off and in need of a cold shower.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured against my skin, his large palm pressed against my bare chest, right over my heart.
“Nothing.” Total lie, but it wasn’t worth the argument. I just didn’t have the energy these days. It was all I could do to maintain basic things, like hygiene and making it to work on time. Being peppy around the clock was fucking draining.
“Then why is your heart is beating so fast?”
“I’m happy to see you.”
“You haven’t seen me for fifteen minutes.”
“Well, when you come to bed naked, what do you expect?” I rolled over onto my back to look at him.
Humming his disbelief, he kissed me anyway. He held the side of my face while his tongue pushed past my lips in search of mine. I don’t know why he even bothered. Withoutanydiscussion, he’d apparently decided to take up a vow of celibacy following my attack, leaving me high and fucking dry — but then he’d kiss me likethat. And I wasn’t supposed to get turned on? Fat chance. It’s like he didn’t trust himself, which was absolutely ridiculous. He was one of the strictest, most disciplined people I’d ever met, short of Misha. There’s no way he’d suddenly “lose control” or whatever the fuck he was so worried about.
Mentally, I still wasn’t in the mood. Physically was another story. My traitorous dick stood at full attention with only my slinky basketball shorts acting as a barrier between me and Sasha’s already-hard cock. A fact which also meant absolutely nothing. He seemed to have no problem giving us both blue balls with zero relief in sight.
Well, fuck that. I was beyond tired of waiting for him to make a move.
Using speed to my advantage, I rolled quickly, straddling his lap and taking his face between my hands. Before he could talk, I kissed him again, coaxing his lips open with my tongue.
His fingers dug into my hips, holding me in place while his cock pressed against my ass. I swiveled my hips, trying to create more friction. The low growl in the back of his throat came a second before he pulled his mouth away from mine.
“What are you doing?”
“What the fuck does it look like?” I leaned down to reclaim his mouth, but he turned his face. Undeterred, I reached for his dick. He grabbed my hand in a vise grip, not to the point of pain but definitely a warning he wasn’t playing around. Even with the faint light in the room, I could see his frown as he glared at the ceiling. A sickly pang of rejection ripped right through me, magnified by his lame ass excuse.
“It’s late.”
“It’s been three months.” I tried to state it as a simple fact, but it came out sharp with more than a bit of a huff. Three months of this awkwardness between us. Three months since I nearly died at the hands of the men who could be classified as Sasha’s “co-workers.” And three months since he had anything to do with me inthatcapacity.
“The doctor said—”
“The doctor didn’t say anything aboutyourdick being off-limits. Ok?” I climbed off of him and back to my side of the bed but I didn’t lay down again. Horny and angry weren’t exactly the best moods to be in while trying to sleep. “And the last time I checked,mydick was fine, too. Functioning just fine, as you can see.”
He remained frustratingly silent, glaring at the ceiling instead of having a conversation. God forbid. It’s not like I wanted him to bare his fucking soul. Just maybe clue me in as to when I’d be good enough for him again, when he’d finally get over whateverhisfucking hangup was and get back to the way things used to be. But would he do that? Would hesayany of that? Nope.
