Page 23 of Double Apex

“Hey, you set the tone. Wanna try again?”

I can’t tell if he’s thinking or pouting in the silence that follows. Part of me is angry, and I’m not sure why.

Dammit, we did what Klaus instructed. Shared meals, went shopping, watched TV with popcorn, had drinks, talked about superficial shit, got more comfortable. Cosmin’s favorite food is cheese. Favorite book is Nabokov’sPale Fire. We both love Bowie.

His favorite color is white.

I stand, and with a flick of one finger, tip over my king. “You win. Now it’s not a draw.”

I go into the cottage and head upstairs to get ready for bed. In the morning we’ll go to the airport. Everything back to normal.

Fine, whatever.

I’m practically seething as I brush my teeth, scowling at my reflection. Why am I so pissed? What did I expect? I didn’t want to do this stupid “bonding” thing in the first place.

I walk out of the en suite, hands occupied with braiding my hair for sleep, when I see him standing by the dresser.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

He points at a ceramic box. “Leaving this. I chose it for you.” His lips press together, as if they’re fighting back more words.

I want to walk over, but I resist, folding my arms as we stare each other down.

After a long moment, he relaxes his shoulders with a stifled sigh.

“Perhaps I cannot speak every fear,” he continues, “buttoday I feared if I admitted this is a gift for you, you would tell me not to buy it. And tonight, playing chess, I was afraid of the night ending. This is why I didn’t want a draw. It makes the gameover.”

The way he says this sends my heart skidding as if running on ice.

I walk to the dresser, and he takes a step back to give me space. I glide a hand over the cool lid of the box. The blue-gray glaze is the color of Cosmin’s eyes.

I smile, my throat tight. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

“So is the woman who now owns it.”

I’m not aware of my body sending the invitation, but he reads it nonetheless. In the fraction of a second as he moves toward me, I’m expecting an old-movie-level fierce kiss—my head wrenched back, mouths pressed hard.

Instead his arms drape around my waist as if they’ve always been there, like part of me. Like my own ribs. His forehead leans into mine, and I watch those long, gold eyelashes drop again, like when he was eating the chocolate.

I’m the one who tips my head to capture his mouth. And dear God, the curve of that full lower lip is everything I imagined tasting. Our mouths are closed but soft, searching new angles, touching as if our lips are eyes, scrutinizing each tiny detail to commit to memory. Because I think we both know: a memory is all it can be.

His hands fan out, and he presses me against his pelvis. I feel him hard, wanting, and I flood with electric heat. He’s everything I’m missing—the need is overwhelming.

He’s not moving, but some part of me can feel the way hewould, if I let him in: the hot rolling of our hips, the wet juncture of our bodies as his cock fills me, sweaty skin and the jab of bones and a rhythm pushing us toward ecstasy.

I’m absolutely twitching inside, and it takes every bit of pragmatism I possess to pull away—I’ve never been this turned on, though we’re touching so lightly, so cautiously.

His breath is shaky, which is surprising. He smiles down at me.

“No? Afraid of losing those earrings to Natalia?”

“I’m afraid of losing more than that,” I admit in a whisper.

His hands drag up my back, down my arms, catch me at the waist, and slide up again, searching. His thumbs drift across my braless breasts, and my nipples are so tight they ache. I’m torn between not wanting him to leave, and hoping he’ll exit quickly so I can get under the covers and finish what he’s started.

He cradles my neck, those teasing thumbs feathering along my jaw before he brushes one final kiss across my hungry lips. He steps back. I force myself not to glance down and sneak a glimpse of what I’m missing.

Laying one hand on the dresser to balance myself, I close my eyes, laboring to calm the throbbing above and below my waist. I hear his footsteps as he heads for the hallway, but I don’t open my eyes—if I see him leaving, I know I’ll stop him.

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