He doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t look away either.
Our foreheads meet, and he releases a long, charged breath that mixes with my shaky one.
“I thought I’d lost you again.” He lifts a hand from my thigh and strokes my hair, my cheek, and my swollen lips. He touches me everywhere as if wanting—no, needing—to make sure I’m actually here.
I don’t mean to, but my hand loses its grip on the gun, and I unload it before I let it hit the ground.
My hands hesitate before I grasp the strands at the back of his head.
“I thought you were hurt.” My whisper sounds convoluted in the tense air.
Kirill slowly opens his eyes, and I stop breathing at their intensity. “So you came out to save me?”
“That’s not—”
“Don’t lie to me, Sasha. Not now.”
I remain silent, scared of voicing the thoughts I had earl
