Before I can finish asking what he said in Russian, he thrust hard into me and f***s the words right out of my head. He runs a hand through my hair and holds my face to his so we’re cheek to cheek as our bodies spasm.
He kisses me, long and hard, and I close my eyes, breathing him in.
I don’t know what the days ahead hold, but I trust Dima. With my life.
Dima cleans himself up and I lay back on the table, sated and lazy. I can hear him fiddling with his clothes and keys, but I’m not ready to leave the quiet solitude we’ve found. Even if it is surrounded by weapons and drugs.
I hear the door open, and I know the time has come. We have to go back to reality.
“I’m sorry, Arya,” he interrupts. His voice is solemn.
I sit up in sudden concern. My body feels cold. The hairs on my arms are p
