CHAPTER THREE Ilya's POV
1208 Words
I couldn't get her out of my head.
I still can't explain why.
I never cared about anybody my whole life. In my world, feeling meant you were weak. It meant fear, it meant worry, and it meant responsibility.
None of which I had.
That was my greatest strength.
But when I saw her walking in the rain, something struck within me; I studied her, and I was drawn to her.
Why?
I stood in front of her door, watching as her doe eyes blinked at me; something stirred in me whenever she looked at me.
Why?
I was supposed to be at a meeting; that was why I left her room, but for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about her, and now I'm back here with medicine for her wounds.
I noticed her face twist in pain while I grabbed her arm.
I still didn't know why I cared because it messed with my mind.
“Why are you here?” she asked in a calm tone.
I lifted the bag of medicine. “It's for the pain you feel.”
I watched her take it from me; her eyes smiled, but her lips didn't.
She looked up at me. “Do you…” She hesitated and pressed her lips together.
“Do I do what?”
“It's late; it's 1:30 a.m. in the morning. If you want to stay…”
Was she inviting me to stay in a room I gave her? I owned this building and could get any room I wanted.
I parted my lips to say no, that it wasn't necessary, but for some reason I said, “Thank you; I will stay.”
She moved away from the door to let me in.
I watched her move to the sink and grab a glass to drink; like a moth to a flame, I followed her.
She soon placed the medicine aside and turned to face me with the glass in her hand. “Thank you.”
“Why didn't you get medicine before?” My curiosity was piqued.
“I'm used to getting hit by my stepmother; I have never taken medication, so I don't see the need.”
I clenched my fists. I couldn't explain how her words made me feel. I shouldn't even be having feelings, not for her, not for everybody.
Yet I wanted to protect her.
The glass in her hand accidentally slipped and hit the ground, shattering into a million pieces.
She looked at me with fear in her eyes. “I'm sorry, I'll pick it up.” She immediately knelt.
“You don't have to do that, Kara.” I reached for her hand and lifted her from the ground. I quickly pulled her away from the glass so that she wouldn't step on it and cut herself.
But it was too late; her thumb had already been cut, and her fingers trembled.
“I didn't mean to break it,” she apologized.
I saw a girl who needed saving from an abusive home; I had tortured men my entire life. I know what it looks like when a person shakes from fear.
I reached for her blonde hair and gently brushed it off her face. “It's just broken glass, Kara.”
A soft puff of air escaped her lips; her gaze was soft.
I wrapped her arms around my neck, lifted her up, and placed her against the counter. I quickly grabbed her finger and placed it in my mouth to suck off the blood. I looked up at her; she was no longer trembling.
For some reason, it gave me a sense of relief. “Who are you, Kara?” I asked, a hint of frustration in my voice. How could I care so much about a girl I had just met?
I knew my question stunned her, but she said nothing.
I didn't let go of her hand; instead, I drew it to my lips and placed a gentle kiss on her palm. The kiss extended to her wrist. I sniffed her skin like it was a drug; each scent left me needing more. Soon, my lips reached her shoulders and then her neck.
I gripped her hips tightly; her scent seemed to be stronger on her neck. I sucked in a deep breath as I placed a gentle kiss on her neck.
A soft gasp escaped her lips as I continued to kiss her.
I drew my lips away from her neck and looked up to meet her gaze; her blue eyes stared back at me.
Her lips parted slightly as my fingers rested on her chin; I drew my lips closer to hers, watching her gaze to make sure she showed no discomfort, and then my lips locked onto hers.
She whimpered softly, her fingers pressing against my shirt.
The kiss grew more passionate as I kissed her; she didn't seem to know what she was doing. This couldn't be her first time, right?
I pulled away and watched her struggle to catch her breath; my body was burning to kiss her again.
“Have you ever kissed? ,” I asked in a calm tone.
Her cheeks flushed red, and she looked down to avoid my gaze. “No,”
I lifted her chin. She had never been kissed. But she was beautiful; so beautiful it was addictive to look at.
I couldn't keep away; what man in his right mind would see her and not fall for her?
My brow flickered up.
Fall for her?
Had I fallen without realizing? Was this confusing feeling I felt attraction?
I took a step back from her; I felt it drop. How could such a weak girl hold so much power that she could break my cold heart and make me care for her?
She gave me a puzzled look. “Are you okay?”
“Get away from the counter,” I said. “I'll send somebody to come clean up the mess.”
She tried to get off, but her legs were too far off the ground; she would fall if she jumped.
I didn't want to touch her; I wouldn't want to let go, but I still couldn't let her fall. I walked to her and wrapped her arms around my shoulders; her legs wrapped around my hips. I carried her to the bed and placed her down to sit.
As hard as it was, I forced myself to move away from her; if I stayed too long, I might do things I would regret. I might touch her in ways my body craved, but hers didn't.
“There is a vacant room in this hotel that I can stay in; don’t expect anything from me.” I moved to grab my coat and walked to the door.
“What is your name?” she asked.
I froze. “Ilya, Ilya Zakharov.”
“You don't have to go?” I heard the bed creak as she stood up.
I clenched my jacket tightly. If only she knew what her presence did to me. “Goodbye, Kara.”
I walked out of the bedroom and didn't look back; if I did, I knew I would stay.
- Writer
