I wonder what other cracks there are in his foundation. I want to strip him and inspect him inch by inch in pursuit of them. I’ve seen him shirtless before, but it was from the window of my bedroom on the second floor. I wasn’t nearly close enough to notice birthmarks, tattoos, freckles and scars. The things that tell his story.
I actually flinch at the sound of Adrian’s voice in my ear. Sometimes, it’s so clear that he might as well be standing right next to me.
He frowns. “You should get some rest.”
“I don’t need rest,” I say quickly—but only because I don’t want to be alone.
He hesitates, then starts to make for the door.
I find myself pivoting in his direction. “Kolya?”
He stops at the threshold, his hand on the knob, and arches his brow.
“Adrian used to do that, too,” I whisper
