Page 34 of Heal Me

Maybe, I do, but I’m not going say it.

"Amelia," he whispers.

I am suffocated by what is happening between us now. I stop breathing.

I want to touch his lips with my lips. I want to feel what it's like to kiss Danylo Bondar and feel his tongue in my mouth. I want to see how deep I can take it.

And he wants it too. I can feel it. He runs his fingers over my bare thighs.

Soft.

Slow.

Killing.

I die and I’m revived with every touch. I want to get down on my knees and beg him to kiss me.

His hand rises higher.

A few more centimetres and I willexplode.

"What are you doing, Bondar? I ask breathlessly.

"I don't know," he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine.

"I don't know, Ami."

He holds my hands in his, our fingers intertwine, and it's even more intimate than a kiss. I feel a tingle where his thumb is drawing circles. I'm drowning at this moment. Drowning in him.

"We can't," Danylo says, breathing hard.

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

And he seems to switch. Nothing remains of the Danylo who was there a few seconds ago. He lets me go and leaves the room.

And I continue to stand stunned by all this.

I take a breath, put myself in order and finally go downstairs.

Someone suddenly grabs my elbow and pulls me towards the couch. In a moment, I find myself sitting next to my friends, Danylo and his girlfriend, who is in her thirties or so and wants to seem like a teenager, but she doesn't do it well. More correctly, it doesn't work at all. Her open dress and bright make-up rather resemble a whore who does not respect herself.

Although if you look at her piercing gaze, which was staring into my eyes, and the gentle smile on her face, I must admit that she is beautiful.

Extremely beautiful. I don't know if she's ever been told this, but she looks a lot like Angelina Jolie. And although she seems strange to me, the way Danylo is looking at her now with a loving look makes me want to throw up.

This look should be mine.

"You are Amelia, right?" her hand touches my leg and I turn to face her.

"Yes, and you?" I'm trying to remember her name, but I can't.

"Zlatoslava," she smiles, "but you can call me Zlata."

I nod as a sign of a pleasant, or not so, acquaintance and return to Lily. Now the eyes of everyone present are focused on her. She fascinatingly tells a story that I have heard a hundred times, maybe more, so I no longer pretend to be surprised by such "unexpected" turns of events.

"And then we called a taxi and went home, it was actually very scary."

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