Page 67 of Heritage of Fire

She reaches for me. Nope, not happening. I snatch her wrist and pin it next to her head, her other hand fisting my shirt. She pulls her mouth from mine, panting. Her chest rises and falls with every breath. Lips, ravaged and glistening, part as she comes out of her haze and notices where we are.

“Luna.” My voice is just above a whisper. I bring my mouth to her ear, leaning in close. “You need to be quiet.”

Allowing my fingertips to trail down her forearms, I trace long languid circles.

“Nik,” she whispers, “we—this …”

Her eyes flutter closed, and her grip on my shirt loosens. Regret at kissing her here of all places washes over me, but I couldn’t wait another second. My lips needed to be on hers. If anything, to stomp out this crazy notion I don’t want her.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I tell her, and kiss her again. I feel her smile against my mouth.

Vibrating in my back pocket gives me pause, but I ignore it, intent on finishing what I started here. Luna’s fingers skate along my forearms as her head falls back, providing me the perfect view of her gorgeous neck.

A not-so-silent sound pushes past her lips, and I whisper into her ear once more. “Nyet, Luna,” I tisk, “this is a library.”

“Nik,” she murmurs, and my eyes snap to hers. A single tear falls down her cheek. Shoot—did I hurt her? I ease my hands off her, eyes scanning her face. My heart pounds. What have I done?

Another tear trickles down her cheek, and my chest grows heavy.

“Luna, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” I wipe the wet drop pooling on her chin.

She peers up at me through dark lashes, and a seemingly uncertain smile works its way onto her lips. “Not yet, Nik.”

Not yet?

“Do you think I’d intentionally hurt you?”

She slides out from between me and the bookshelf. “No. No, it’s not like that …”

I know what she thinks, that before her, girls frequented my apartment. That I had a new woman every night. I’m playful and flirty. What shedoesn’tknow is I never wanted to be close to those girls. It was all about surface-level connections; no relationships.

But not with Luna.

“There’s been no one else since I married you, Luna.No one.You’re the only woman who’s been in my apartment, in my bed.”

She sniffles and reaches for my hand. I pull her close, planting a kiss on her forehead. Her skin is slightly salty, probably from the stuffiness of the library stacks. And, I’m hoping, the intensity of our kiss.

As I lead her back downstairs to go home, I hope to God she heard me.

Chapter 27

Luna

As soon as the mind-numbing high from Nik’s kiss finally left me, I knew I was in trouble. Nik, with his arms bracketing me, shoving me against the book stacks—my heart leaped into my throat. I could barely breathe.

The elevator dings, and I step off into a sweeping penthouse. White marble floors cover the whole space, and I practically giggle with excitement when my eyes meet the panoramic city view.

“Hello, Mrs. Balakin,” an older Russian lady greets me.

“Luna is fine.” I offer her a smile, hopeful that correcting her isn’t poor manners.

“Kate is this way.”

When we left the library, I rode with Nik while Lev followed. The ride was silent, and I found myself wondering if he was regretting what happened. I haven’t seen him in a day and a half, so my suspicion that he’s upset with himself feels confirmed.

Kate texted me yesterday, asking if I wanted to come over this afternoon, and I was grateful for her reaching out. Friends were hard to come by growing up.

I follow her housekeeper into the kitchen, where Kate is leaning over the counter, several textbooks open around her anda jar of pickles at the ready. She glances up and does a double take.

---