Page 67 of Born into Madness
His arms are crossed over his chest, one hand lifted up and rubbing at his jaw. I’d say it was a nervous move, but his eyes are anything but hesitant when he says, “I moved you in with me.”
“What?” I’m so stunned that it’s the only word I can manage before I race up the stairs to his loft bedroom. Sure enough, my pillow is now on his bed, my photos hung on his walls, and my clothes are hanging in his closet right beside his. A quick glance in the bathroom makes it clear he didn’t leave anything behind. Hell, even my bathrobe is hanging on a hook.
When I turn, he’s standing right behind me. Meeting his gaze, I say, “You can’t just move me in with you.”
I swear he’s fighting a grin when he says, “I believe I just did.”
“But,” I start to say, and then get flustered and have to try again. “You barely know me. I have a dorm room. I need to be on campus so I can be close to all my classes and work. I can’t just leave!”
He steps closer, towering over me as he cups the back of my head, gently fisting my hair and tilting my face up to his. “I know everything I need to know about you. I want you here with me. I want you where I know you’re safe.” The fingers of his other hand run along my cheek. “I told you I’m not letting you go. I meant it,krovinka.”
“What about school? I’m not quitting, Sasha.”
The corner of his mouth twitches at my tone. “I never asked you to. It’s not a long drive to campus. I can bring you, or you can drive the Jeep. Whatever is easiest for you.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” I say, but I also know I don’t have the money to buy my own car.
“Of course it’s fair. What’s mine is yours, and if you don’t want to drive that, I’ll buy you something else, whatever you want.”
I think about what he’s offering. It’s a lot more than a beautiful place to live. He’s offering me a home, a life with himand Chort, and the freedom to continue to pursue my degree. We’re moving fast, there’s no denying that, but it doesn’t feel wrong. My intuition isn’t screaming at me to get the hell away from him, and the possibility of never being woken up again by a too-peppy Brittney is very tempting. Aside from the fact that I’m worried he might change his mind, I can’t think of any reason to say no. I want to be with him. Even if it’s crazy and irrational and moving very quickly, I still want it.
“Okay,” I tell him. “I’ll move in with you.”
He leans closer, bringing his lips to mine so I feel them when he whispers, “That’s so cute that you think you had a choice.”
Before I can argue with him, he kisses me silent. I have a feeling this is how he’s going to win every argument we have. It’s impossible to think when his mouth is anywhere on me. All I can do is submit and ride the wave. Sasha is obviously used to being in control, and a big part of me loves handing it over to him. It’s exhilarating to not have to worry about anything because I know he’s going to take care of it.
He deepens the kiss, stroking my tongue with his as he grabs my ass and slowly leads me back towards the bathroom. As soon as we’re through the door, he grabs onto the bottom of my shirt and starts to lift it.
“What are you doing?” I ask when our lips part so he can pull the top half of my scrubs off.
“I’m taking care of you, Cyn.” His fingers run down my sides, and then they’re hooking into the waistband of my pants. “Let me do this for you,krovinka.”
It doesn’t even occur to me to argue as he slips the last part of my scrubs off and then reaches over to start the water for the tub. His eyes run over me, and he makes no attempt to hide the hungry look he’s giving me.
When he grabs a bottle of bubble bath, I laugh and say, “I never would’ve pegged you as a guy who likes to take baths.”
Standing, he reaches for his shirt and pulls it off while he says, “It’s good for sore muscles. Sometimes I train too hard.” He shrugs like it’s no biggie, like it’s normal to be a little sore because you were practicing your stabbing techniques on dummies that hang from your ceiling.
“And you like to do it with,” I stop and read the label on the bottle, “mango berry bubble bath?”
He grins and pops the button on his jeans. “I’m going to switch to coconut.”
I watch as he gets undressed, mesmerized yet again by the sight of his naked body. Unable to resist, I reach out and run my fingers over him, tracing the bloody thorns that circle his upper arm and the large scar that mars the intricate detail of the design. When he turns to shut off the water, I get a close-up view of the tree that’s inked onto his back. It’s stunning. The talent involved is undeniable.
I run my fingers over the raven that’s swooping down to land on the pile of skulls beneath the large tree. “This is amazing. It must’ve taken hours.”
“Forty-six of them,” he says and my jaw drops.
“You endured forty-six hours of pain?”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “We didn’t do it straight through. It took months.”
“Wow,” I say, running my eyes over all the tattooed skin on his body. I can’t imagine how many hours he’s spent enduring pain while all these images were etched permanently onto his skin.
“Maybe I’ll get one someday,” I tell him.
When he turns around, I get an eyeful. He’s fully hard, every inch of him just as thick as I remember it being, but this time he’s not gripping himself, so I get a full, unobstructed view, and when I see my name tattooed along his shaft, my mouth drops open in shock as I look up at him.
