Page 97 of Deviant Need

I push myself back to give him space, watching as he brings it to his lips and inhales deeply. His eyes close and his free hand comes up to rub his forehead, then he exhales heavily.

He takes another hit, and I lean down, pressing my lips to his. His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing against my cheekbone as he exhales slowly. The smoke passes from his mouth to mine in a warm rush, and I inhale it deeply, feeling the burn settle into my lungs.

The moment it clears, his mouth crashes against mine properly, desperate and needy. I slide my tongue past his lips, tasting smoke and him and everything I almost lost. I’m trying to show him comfort, trying to communicate everything I can’t say out loud, to let him know how much I love him, how terrified I was, how I can’t lose him.

I can’t believe I finally told him. That I’ve been in love with him since I was fifteen and he gave me my first kiss on that roof. And he said it back. He knows now, knows exactly how far gone I am for him, how deep this goes, how long I’ve been drowning in this. I’m so fucking relieved I could cry. Years of hiding it, and now it’s finally out in the open.

“I need to shower quickly, and then we need to go to work.”

“Nyet, fuck work.” I cup his chin, forcing him to look at me. “We’re staying home, okay? Stop stressing about that stupid event. We have the meeting with our brothers tomorrow, and I need you to take it easy until then. For once, just do what you’re told.”

He grins, rubbing his hand along my jaw. “I like it when you’re bossy.”

I jerk my chin toward the bathroom. “Go. Then we can be lazy all day.”

He pushes himself up and presses his lips to mine, soft and lingering, before pulling back. I follow him into the bathroom without a word, positioning myself in the doorway as he strips down and steps under the spray. The water turns on, and he tilts his head back, letting it run over him. Leaning against the doorframe, I watch him through the glass, not bothering to hide what I’m doing.

I’m not leaving him alone. Not for a second.

He doesn’t ask me to leave, and I wouldn’t listen if he did. My eyes track every movement he makes, cataloging each shift and gesture to make sure he’s okay.

I pull out my phone but keep watching him, scrolling through it with half my attention while the rest stays locked on him. I want to do something for him, something to drag him out of this darkness even if it’s just for a little while. But we’re stuck here because he can’t go anywhere looking like this, not without covering the bruises. Still, it would be good to do something for both of us.

An idea starts forming in my head.

I nervously peek out from the living room for the tenth time since I told Mikhail he has to stay in my bedroom while I set everything up. My hands fly across the blanket, trying to make it look somewhat decent. The doorbell finally rings.

“Stay there,” I shout toward the bedroom.

“I’m staying. I already told you,” he mutters back, and I can hear the amusement in his voice even from here.

Sprinting to the door, I pull it open. The delivery guy holds out the bags, and I take them before shutting the door and rushing back to the living room. I spread everything out on the blanket, setting out plates and utensils, arranging the food containers until it looks halfway presentable. Then I straighten myself out, take a breath, and walk to the bedroom.

“Okay, it’s ready.”

He looks up from his phone and pushes himself off the bed. He’s wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt that hugs him tight, showing off his arms in a way that makes my mouth go dry. I take his hand and drag him toward the living room, gesturing to the blanket spread out on the floor with our food laid out like an actual picnic.

“We can’t leave for dates, but you said you wanted to take me out. So I figured we could have a date at home instead.”

His eyes soften as he takes it all in. “You did all of this for me?”

“Yeah.”

He pulls me into his arms and wraps them around me, hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe.

My arms come up and wrap around him just as tightly, holding him like I can keep him here, keep him safe, if I just don’t let go. We stay like that for a long moment before walking to the blanket together and settling down. He stretches out on his side, making space, and I sit cross-legged beside him.

It’s Russian food. Our favorite blini crepes with jam fillings and shchi soup, the kind that reminds us of home even though home was never really safe.

“Fuck, I love you,” he says, snatching a spoon and diving into the soup. He groans at the first taste, and I can’t help smiling as I dig in too.

“I love you too,” I say around a mouthful of blini. “Part two of our date is getting in that jacuzzi we haven’t used since we moved here.”

“I forgot about that thing, to be honest.”

I roll my eyes. “I know. Wonder if it even works.”

He shoots me a look. “Guess we’ll find out.”