Page 61 of Ruthless Sin
I get out of the bed, my legs shaking, and cross to the door and turn the knob with my own hand.
He’s standing close enough that his chest moves when he breathes.
The lamp at the end of the hallway is on low and the light catches the side of his face. His jaw. The line of his throat.
My heart, which has been slamming since the concrete, slows the moment I see his face. Not because it’s safe. Because it’s him.I reach for the doorframe with one hand because my legs have gone soft.
His eyes are dark. The same look from the basement, the one that saidI see you, notI want something from you.
He doesn’t move toward me. He waits. Nobody has ever waited for me to decide. I don’t know what to do with a man who waits.
My heart is pounding and slowing at the same time.
He’s here. He’s not Alexei.
I nod once.
I turn and walk back to the bed.
I sit on the edge of the mattress facing the wall.
I wait for the door to close behind him.
The door closes. The sound is soft. Careful.
His footsteps cross the wood. He doesn’t come close. He stops on the other side of the room.
The air is warmer. He’s in it.
“Ya zdes’, na drugoi storone komnaty,” he says.
I am here, on the other side of the room.
“Skazhi mne, kogda mozhno podoyti.”
Tell me when I can come over.
I don’t turn my head.
I lift my right hand and let it fall to the blanket beside me.
He crosses the room.
Every step counted. The floor doesn’t creak but the air moves when he crosses it.
He crouches beside the bed, his hands visible, his knees on the rug, his eye-line below mine.
He doesn’t touch me.
The room is quiet. His breathing is slow and even in the dark.
“Vdokh. Vydokh. Schitay so mnoy.”
Inhale. Exhale. Count with me.
His voice is low. Steady. Papa’s register, and he cannot know that.
“Raz.”
