52. DMITRI

52

DMITRI

I thought if I made it good for her, she'd let me do it again. I was going to go on my knees to taste her again, to bury my face in her pussy, but then she took all of me.

Being inside of her? It's not survivable.

I'm never coming back from this.

Kavi tilts her face at me, eyes half-lidded.

I'm lost.

Tell me what you need.

I'll give you everything.

Take me.

I ease my body from hers. Her eyes have drifted shut.

I push myself off the bed, but hold on to the wall. I've exercised almost every day of my life, but right now my limbs are pathetic.

Her brown eyes drift open when I'm back, the warm towel sliding on her skin. She sighs, letting me take care of her. My legs have steadied, but my fingers wobble.

When I'm done, I kiss the top of her head. "Are you sore?"

She doesn't answer.

"Kavi, baby, I need to know if you're okay."

"Mmh."

"Talk to me, Princess."

Her arm hooks around mine. I tip to lie down beside her. She curls against my skin, branding me with warmth. I hold her tight.

"Good," she whispers.

I rock her back and forth, because I can't stop. The sound of her heart rounds every sharp edge in me.

She caresses my cheek. "The audio you sent about your dad broke my heart."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. It's not fair," she mumbles. "Who took care of you?"

The air feels knocked out of my lungs. "No one needs to take care of me, Princess."

"I don't accept that." Kavi shakes her head. "I refuse for that to be the case. You need to be taken care of."

"You help."

"How?" Her voice goes higher. "What do I do for you when you've done so much for me?"

"You exist."

She sobs out a laugh. "You are so frustrating."

"So are you." The most impossible thing in my life.

We talk about high school.

Kavi pouts. "You didn't like me."

"I couldn't be your friend."

"Why not?"

I knew the girl with hair the color of a crayon would find a way under my skin. She would see too much. And?—

Somehow, I'm still embarrassed, but she knows now, so it's easier. "The reality with my dad fucking embarrassed me. You were too nice and empathetic. I didn't want to get close enough to see pity in your eyes."

"The night of prom," she says. "You didn't turn the other way."

"Low bar, Princess. You were about to yak over yourself, so I stepped in."

"You did more than that. Don't lie, Dmitri."

She's right. "I took care of you," I admit. And then I thought to myself, I could do this forever.

And that freaked me the fuck out. My worst fear had come to life that night. Being with Kavi completely erased the other crap in my life. I forgot who I was, where I was, and all the other responsibilities on my shoulders. It didn't matter if my dad drank or that if I didn't get recruited to hockey, his dream would die. I didn't care about any of it when I tucked her into bed.

"Can I?" My hands reach and weigh the curve of her breast.

She arches into the touch. "Don't distract me. I'm not done."

I thrum the edge of her nipple, making it stand up. "Do you not want this?" Do you want me? "Is this not okay?" I tug her other nipple.

Her head drops back. "It's not supposed to feel this good."

"Should I stop?"

Want this, Kavi. Want me.

I'm still so desperate. My cock stirs back to life.

"No," she sighs. "But you're spoiling me again."

Let me. I want to say that, but I remember what she said before she left. That she has to be her own first responder. To stand for herself. She needs to make it on her own.

Maybe I'm not what Kavi needs at all. It's selfish of me trying to keep her in my life. Her happiness should be my priority, shouldn't it? Does she want to move back to Seattle? Is that better for her?

"Kavi, I–"

"What's this?" She's looking down at my leg.

I freeze.

It's my scar. She's found it.

Her fingers lift off, as if it might still hurt. "When did you get this?"

I should put my mouth on her and distract her. I need to.

"Dmitri? Will you tell me what happened?" she whispers.

I cover her hand with mine. "It… happened a long time ago."

"I've seen you limp, I think. Once, maybe more times. And you wrapped it up, when you wore—" Her cheeks flush. "—the apron."

"Should I bring it out again? The apron."

"Do you not want to talk about it? You can tell me you don't."

That's not the problem. The issue is I do, but it's like peeling off tape that's been on for years. You don't know what's left underneath.

Kavi takes my hand and brings it over her heart, staring at me with those pleading eyes. "I promise you can trust me."

"Do you remember Sam?"

"That girl you were seeing senior year in high school. Did she slash your knee, then?"

"Kind of."

"Seriously? I was only kidding!"

"It didn't happen exactly like that. It happened at a bar," I say, sharing how Sam and I took a random trip that changed my life. I describe the fight in the bar and how scared I was when I woke up in the hospital thinking I was alone.

"She didn't check in on you? Not even once ?"

"I was glad."

"But your knee–"

"My dad helped rehabilitate it."

She whooshes out a noise. "There's a story there, isn't there?"

"It might upset you."

"He pushed and pushed you, didn't he?"

I nod. He still tries to. She doesn't know about my present. That I'm one bad hit from being benched forever, my contract not renewed. My knee is unspooling and I can't stop it. The games I have left in me are counting down. Rapidly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks gently.

I tip her face, brushing my mouth over hers. "Another time, Princess. For now, put your hands on the bed frame for me."

Kavi shudders as I settle myself between her legs again. "Let me make you feel good this time. It's your turn."

"This is my turn."