“Let. Go,” he gritted out.
I tightened my grip on him even more, my nails digging into his skin. It was my dare. My challenge.
Make me.
I pushed myself off the bed using my feet and came closer to him. Mikhail obviously wasn’t prepared for that. He stumbled back a few steps before he quickly caught himself.
“Kotyonok, let go before you hurt yourself.”
“No,” I cried out. I blinked, my eyes stinging from the unshed tears. “You’re hurting me. Okay? You’re fucking hurting me.”
He froze. Probably in surprise, since I had never cursed in front of him before.
He pulled back slightly, his wild cerulean blue eyes taking me in.
I didn’t know what came over me.
I blinked. Then I completely lost it.
A small sob burst free, and I closed my eyes, burying my face in his chest.
“Fuck,” he said against my skin. He moved, and I didn’t bother to look up to see what was happening. Mikhail set me down on the bed and climbed on top of me, with my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, clinging to him.
He braced his weight on his elbows and looked down at me, his blue eyes animated with some unknown emotion.
I bit my bottom lip to keep it from trembling as the tears fell down the side of my face.
He wiped them away with his fingers, a tortured look passing over his eyes.
I let out a small exhale when my chest started to hurt. I didn’t even know I was holding my breath.
We didn’t say anything for the length of one small inhale, and then he leaned down slowly and took my lips in his.
I closed my eyes as the tears continued to fall.
I kissed him back.
It was the first time since I woke up that everything felt right again.
My arms tightened marginally around him. And I kissed him back harder, opening my mouth to let him deepen the kiss.
“Fuck,” he said again when he pulled back to catch his breath. It seemed he was only capable of uttering that.
I cupped his face. Shaking my head, I said softly, “Don’t go again.”
He closed his eyes as if he was in pain, and I didn’t know what to say to that. Was he in pain because of me? Did he not want me anymore?
I didn’t know what I would do if that were the case. It was his fault I was like this. He made me fall in love with him. It was all his damn fault.
My grip on him tightened, my nails digging into his skin.
I was debating if I should push him away or not—after all, I had my fucking pride—when his eyes sprang open, and determination flashed in them—so much so, my breath caught.
Before I could say anything to that, Mikhail was back to kissing me, this time more forcefully, roughly, than the first.
I blinked once, twice, before finally, I closed my eyes and succumbed to him.
He pulled at my clothes.