YURI

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I'm not a virgin. Don't get me wrong, I've had a boyfriend in high school but I don't really know if I loved Jake. He didn't give me that butterflies I'm currently experiencing right now but I liked him enough to give my virginity to him.

Am not a saint either—I’ve had one-night stands and casual hookups before—but this… this feels different. It’s not just physical attraction; it’s like something deep inside me is responding to him, something I thought had been broken for good. I’ve always believed my abandonment issues had ruined my chances of ever truly letting someone in, of trusting them enough to hold my heart without crushing it. Yet here I am, standing in front of him, feeling every wall I’ve so carefully built start to tremble. And that terrifies me more than I want to admit.

You must be really insane, Yuri—your mom is sick with cancer… cancer—and here you are, entertaining thoughts about a romantic relationship with her grandson. You dirty little w***e, I scolded myself internally, the shame curling hot in my stomach. I willed myself to snap out of it, to shut the door on those dangerous thoughts, but when I finally forced my eyes up, I froze.

He had been staring at me the whole time, his gaze steady, almost unreadable. It wasn’t the kind of look that could be shrugged off—it felt deliberate, like he was seeing straight through me, peeling back layers I didn’t even know I was showing. My throat tightened, and for a split second, I forgot how to breathe.

Uhmmm… excuse me. I forced my feet to move, willing myself toward the door like that would somehow end this moment.

“Are you avoiding me?” he said, his voice calm but laced with something that made my heart skip.

I quickly turned back, forcing a light laugh. “Why would I be avoiding you, Killian?”

“Killian,” he repeated slowly, almost tasting the word. “I love the way you call my name.”

My cheeks burned instantly, and before I could stop myself, I leaned into the feeling instead of running from it. “What else do you love about me, Killian?” I asked, deliberately repeating his name again, just to see his reaction.

His lips curved into the faintest smile. “I love how you get stuck in your head sometimes,” he replied, his tone soft but heavy with meaning—like he’d been paying more attention to me than I ever realized.

And in that moment, I didn’t know if I should be flattered… or terrified.

"I love the way your breasts rise every time I’m in close proximity to you," he continued, his voice lower now, almost a whisper meant just for me.

"I love how you bite your lips when you’re nervous."

My pulse was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

"Should I go on?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his eyes locked on mine like he could read every thought racing through me.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, my palms damp. I didn’t trust my voice, so I said nothing.

I was so caught up in the way his words wrapped around me that I didn’t notice—until it was too late—that he’d been moving closer with every sentence. The air between us grew warmer, heavier, and it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.

By the time I realized, he was standing right in front of me… close enough that I could smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his skin, and hear the faintest sound of his breathing.

And God help me… I didn’t move away.