Page 40 of Demitri

“Yeah, and looking back, I know I missed everything that night, but he was a cop. They’re supposed to be safe, right? I ran to him for help. He was nice, Demitri. Really nice. He calmed me down, talked to me. Asked me about home, about my majors, my schedule. I told him everything. Even about not talking to my parents since I left.”

“You were alone and vulnerable.”

“That’s exactly what I was. And he took every opportunity to remind me of that for the next two years.”

“What did he do, Mia?”

“He made me fall in love with him,” I admit. “Only then did his true colors come out. But by then I was so dependent on him, I couldn’t get away. He started with his ‘lessons’ whenever he perceived I did something wrong. Don’t ask what I did wrong. According to him, if it was a day ending in Y, everything was wrong. The bar was constantly moving, and no matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough.”

“Tell me. Please.”

“It started small. Reprimanding me and telling me how worthless I was. Then he would demand I do whatever it was over again with him supervising. If the toast was too brown, do it again. If I missed a spot on the floor, do it again. The pictures on the walls were never dusted good enough. The spines on his books. Eventually, it graduated to physical things. He’d smack me if he didn’t like what I said. He’d grab my arms hard enough to leave bruises if he felt like I wasn’t paying enough attention. And then, it moved into raping me when I would say no, and after I tried to get away the first time, he tied me up and used me as a punching bag and a plaything.”

“I’m sorry.” Two simple words, no pity in his voice, just acceptance that this is what I went through.

“I was weak. I couldn’t leave. I needed him, and he needed me. If I could just be better, it would stop and he’d love me again.”

A tear slides down my face, quickly followed by another. And now that they’ve started, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get them to stop. I can’t talk anymore, and Demitri must know it, because he turns the truck off and gets out of the driver’s side door. When he opens my door, I jump at the sound.

“Can I help you to the house?” he quietly asks, his voice strong and sure. “Can I touch you?”

I nod, tears still streaming, and don’t flinch when Demitri picks me up from my seat and cradles me on the way to the door. I put my head on his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady. Calming. A sound of safety amongst the chaos.

I watch him through the watery haze of my vision and realize I’m not panicking. This man is touching me, and much like the night we slept with him holding me, I feel nothing but cherished and safe.

When Demitri opens the door and walks inside, I cling to him, willing him to not put me down. He hears my silent prayer and sits on the couch, holding me tight to his body, whispering words in Russian.

When I can speak again, I lift my head and look at him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “There’s no need to thank me for taking care of you. Thank you for sharing with me.”

“Demitri?” I ask, my tongue darting out to lick my lips.

He raises his brows, his eyes watching the movement, but doesn’t say anything.

“I would like to try something. If it’s okay with you.”

“Anything.”

“I’d really like to kiss you.”

“Yes.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DEMITRI

Mia doesn’t thinkbefore cupping my face with her fingers. Long and strong, callused from the hard work she puts in every day. Her thumbs rub my cheeks, almost like she’s making sure I’m real. When her lips touch mine, I know I’ll never be the same. Kissing has always been a no-go. It was too intimate. She told me it was herPretty Womanrule, and I didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about until I found the movie.

Her lips are soft, plump, and firm under my own. I know I have to let her lead this kiss, and it takes all of my willpower not to take over, to demand more. When her tongue darts out and tastes my lips, my heart stutters, and I’m a little worried about the situation in my pants. I don’t know how long she’s going to allow me to feel her body against mine and her lips doing wicked things, but I’ll take every gloriously agonizing second she allows.

“I want you,” she finally whispers against my lips. “I want…”

“Tell me,” I demand when her voice fades.

Her lips are still on mine, our breath mingling together. “I want you to touch me, but I’m afraid.”

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