Page 45 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“Ty razbudila vo mne davno zabytoye.”

The rumble in his words chased a warm shiver down my spine but I still couldn’t look up for fear of the pity I would find there. “What does that mean?”

“I have yet to saynoto any of your ideas.”

My head snapped up. “What are you saying?”

Eyes locked, we stood frozen. The silence in the kitchen was only broken by the clock on the wall.Tick, tick, tick.I needed him to say it. If he meant what I suspected, if he wouldn’t deny me the idea of kissing him, I needed him to say it.Tick, tick, tick.

Victor’s chest rose and fell in a deep but silent sigh.

Tick, tick, tick.

“We shouldn’t do this until I’ve figured out my family shit.”

“Okay.”

“I shouldn’t drag you deeper into my mess. I should probably stay far away. That would be the safest option for you. I should leave and let you fix the world with your foundation.”

“Oh.”

Victor’s gaze dropped to my lips.

All the things he should or should not do crackled in the air between us.

I’d known from the day I met him who his family was. I’d known that I’d potentially put myself in danger by hiring him. I hadn’t known that he still worried about that, at least not in relation tous.

Tick, tick, tick.

“What do youwantto do?” I asked.

Victor didn’t move a muscle, but I could see his thoughts racing behind those bottomless eyes.

Tick, tick, tick.

“Fuck it.” He obliterated the last few inches of distance between us. His hands wrapped around my waist and my neck. Every move was a contradiction. He pulled me against him, but pushed me back into the counter. His hands caged me in with no room to budge, but his touch was featherlight. Whatever internal turmoil directed his hands, however, had no control over his mouth, because when Victor kissed me,he kissed me. No hesitation, no nipping. His kiss was a fist, stealing your breath and rattling your bones. My knees wobbled and I grabbed onto him, nails burrowing into his shoulders and hair, desperate to keep myself from being knocked out by that kiss.

His teeth sank into my lips, and I whimpered at the sharp burst of pain. Before the sound had even died in my throat, Victor’s hands circled my middle and in a split-second, I was on the counter with him between my knees. And then his hands were everywhere. On my thighs, in my hair, roaming my sides and cupping my face, leaving burning hot trails on my skin without ever digging in. And with all the destruction he laid on me, all I could think wasmore.

I tugged at his shirt. I clawed at his neck. I pulled his hair. Desperate formore.

Instead of giving me what I craved, Victor jerked out of the kiss.

I gasped, cool air rushing into my chest.

“Cordelia.” Victor’s voice had gone low and husky and my name had never sounded better.

“More,” I whispered, closing the distance between our lips again.

His hand folded around my jaw. Hard. No contradiction left in his touch as he pushed me back. “Zhizn' moya, you don’t need to ask for more. You can have all of me. In due time. The first time I fuck you won’t be on the kitchen counter.”

His words sparked a heat low in my stomach, and yet they washed over me like an icy shower. My hands dropped to my sides. Was that where this would have headed? He would have… He thought I wanted…

All at once, the entirety of who I was crashed into me, because I would never, not once, have a normal experience. Everything was wrong. I was wrong. Victor thought I wanted to have sex with him right here, because he was a normal 34-year-old man who just so happened to work long hours in this house. He’d probably dated plenty. Kissed plenty. Slept with- and I didn’t. I wasn’t. I was still the same girl who was meant to go to a school dance with Clark Anderson in 9th grade and never actually made it there, because I’d been locked up, and hungry and scared, and my mom had taken me dress shopping and instead I ended up with her blood all over me. They took my jacket but not my shoes. The shoes. It always came down to the shoes. The dark red splotches on white sneakers etched into my brain. When other people closed their eyes, they saw colors and stars, and I saw the exact same pattern of blood stains over and over and over again. A fucked up Rorschach test with only one singular answer.

Something cold and smooth hit my lips, and I blinked.

“Drink,” Victor said, tilting the glass of water for me.

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