“Jess,” he says, banging on the door. “Open up.”
I can’t sit here all night, but at the same time thinking about seeing him is far worse than this cold floor.
“Jess,” he says again. “You read me wrong.”
I don’t see how.
I pull my knees up to my chest and put my face between them, taking a few deep breaths. I have to face him, but I’m afraid he’ll see the shame I’m hiding there. I slowly shove to my feet and hesitate at the door. With another deep breath, I swing it open and face a gentle expression. He feels sorry for me. I can see it. That’s just great. I need to go back to sleep and forget this ever happened.
“It’s fine, Dimi,” I say, shoving past him. “I had too much to drink. I wasn’t thinking. I get it. You don’t want me like that. I read it wrong. It’s not your fault. It’s—”
“Jesus, Jess, shut the fuck up.”
I turn to him, gaping. “I beg your pardon?”
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
I cross my arms. “There’s no need to be so mean.”
He’s smiling. Why is he smiling? He stalks toward me with an expression that has me taking two steps back. When he reaches me, his hand curls around the back of my neck and he pulls me so close I can feel his warm breath on my lips. I stop breathing.
“I didn’t kiss you back because it wasn’t how it was meant to go for you. You told me you wanted it to be amazing, something both parties felt. You waking up and jumping me isn’t the way that was meant to go down. No, you should have a man pressing himself against you, making your breath halt in your throat.”
I gasp. It’s doing that.
He slides a finger down my cheek.
“It should make tingles break out on your skin.”
My entire body prickles.
“It should make everything come alive, until you can think of nothing else but having that person’s lips on yours.”
I lick my bottom lip and I take a step closer, pressing my body to his.
“You wanted it to be memorable,” he murmurs, staring at my lips. “I’m just making sure it is.”
“Oh you a-a-a-are, are you?” I whisper.
“Yeah, baby, I am. Now, we can make this awesome or we can let you beat me up with your lips again.”
“I’d like it to be awesome.” I smile weakly.
“I think you’ve made the right choice. Brace yourself.”
I’m still smiling when he closes in. It seems like it takes forever for his lips to finally touch mine, but when they do, fireworks explode. His lips are soft, wet, and so damned consuming. I feel the urge to press myself against him, taking as much as I can, feeling as much as possible. He groans, reaching up and taking hold of my hair, tugging my head backwards so he can deepen the kiss.
I’ve had a lot of fantasies about how a first kiss might feel—this outweighs all of those. The way Dimitri moves his lips over mine is causing my mind to spin. When he slides his tongue into my mouth and it dances with mine, my knees buckle. My hands raise to press against his chest, when I remember he doesn’t like to be touched. Slowly, I lower them back to my sides. This seems to please him so much that he bends me back slightly, kissing me with everything he is.
By the time we pull apart, my body is throbbing and my lips are swollen. I press my fingertips to them and stare up into his eyes. “That was . . .”
He grins. “Worth all your fantasies?”
“More,” I breathe. “So much more.”
His eyes soften and crinkle at the sides as he smiles. “I’m glad.”
“You are definitely up there in the top ten.” I smile.
He chuckles. “Get some sleep.”
We walk over to the bed and crawl back into it. I can feel him beside me even though he’s not touching me.
“Dimi?”
“Mmmm.”
“Thanks.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “Anytime,” he finally whispers.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jess
Take this, it has my number and Luke’s in it. If you get lost in the crowd, you can call me. I’m taking it as soon as we’re out of here, but you’ll need it while we’re in.”
I stare down at the phone Dimi has just handed me as he pulls me along through the crowd. We’re at another fight—he needed more information, though he won’t tell me what about. I’m not happy about seeing him fight again, but there’s no way he’s letting me out of his sight now we’re back on land again.
“Okay,” I say as we reach the back door. He shoves it open and steps in.
There are more people in this back room than there were during the last fight we were at. There seem to be more fighters, too.
“I hate you fighting,” I mumble as he pulls me to a locker.
“I know,” he says, bumping his fist on the cool metal and busting it open. He pulls out a pair of boxing gloves.
“You box?”
He looks at me quickly before yanking his shirt off and strapping his hands before sliding the gloves on. “Yeah, I do a few different styles.”
“Is this one you’re good at?”
He grins, tilting his head back and bouncing from side to side. Here we go again.
“Don’t stress, I won’t get hurt.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can know that.”
I shake my head, watching him bounce about like he’s high.