In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(59)

“I’ll decide that for myself, thanks.”

She muttered something under her breath in Ukrainian.

“What?” he said. “What was that? Translation, please.”

“You’re going to destroy me,” she said, turning to climb up onto his body. “You might as well at least make it worth my while.”

He grabbed her hands as she reached to unfasten his fly. “No.”

She froze, astonished. “What? Why not?”

It was almost impossible to articulate the weird impulse, which flew in the face of everything his body screamed for. But this imperative came from someplace even deeper. “You’re just distracting yourself from the way you feel,” he blurted. “Don’t do that. It’s a dead end.”

“Dead end?” She gaped at him. “Sex with you is an end in itself!”

“Not this time,” he said.

“What’s wrong with just changing the subject? I thought that was good! Change the bad channel! That’s what they all tell me to do!”

He wrapped his hands around the deep curve of her waist. Stroking, soothing. “Running away isn’t good,” he said. “You have to stay with it. Not skitter away like a marble in a pinball machine.”

She tried to dismount, but he tightened his fingers on her waist. “Uh-uh,” he murmured. “You’re not going anywhere. Stay with it.”

“So you’re a therapist now?” she snapped. “You weren’t there with me, Sam! You would not want to stay with what’s in my head!”

“I’m sure that I wouldn’t, but relax. I’m trying to be real with you, and I’m putting myself way out there, so don’t punish me for it.”

She shook her head, baffled. “What do you want, then? For me to dwell on it? And work myself into a state? That’s stupid!”

“Tell me about the dream,” he said stubbornly. “Tell me all of it.”

Her face contracted. She pressed her fists against her eyes. “Oh, God, whatever,” she said. “If you must know. I dream that I’m making love to you. And you turn into Yuri. Suddenly, it’s Yuri on top of me.”

He recoiled, instinctively. “Oh, shit. That’s bad.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s awful. Every goddamn time.”

“You’ve had this dream before?” He was appalled.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Ever since I started having sexual fantasies about you, Sam. Which is to say, the very first day I met you.”

He jerked up onto his elbows. “Me? Why? What did I do? What, you think that I’m a—”

“Not at all.” Her swift smile flashed. “Relax. You’re not like Yuri at all. But I became a sexually aware person in that filthy hole, and there was Yuri, the whole time, leering at me while it happened. It marked me. I can’t forget feeling helpless and vulnerable. A thing to be used. I felt so naked. I had nothing but a dirty oversized T-shirt to wear.”

“But what do I have to do with that?” he demanded.

She hugged her knees, propped her chin on her arms, and pondered the question. “You make me feel vulnerable,” she said.

“But I would never hurt you!”

“I know that.” She put a soothing hand on his chest. “You are nothing at all like him. You’re wonderful. But when I feel naked and vulnerable, Yuri comes to me. And nothing makes me feel more naked and vulnerable than you. It’s very strange. Very f*cked up. I’m sorry. And I have no idea if it will ever get any better. The closer I am to you, the worse it gets. Nightmares. Stress flashbacks, too. After what happened in Bruno’s office two years ago, I saw Yuri everywhere. On the metro, on the bus, in the supermarket, in the library. He haunted me.”

“Oh, Christ.” He felt helpless. “Is that why you blew me off?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“I wish I’d known,” he said.

Sveti shrugged. “I didn’t want to advertise my mental health issues to the world. Particularly not to the guy I had a huge crush on.”

He stared at her slender hand, which was making delicate, stimulating circles on his chest. “Do you want me to go away?”

She jerked, as if he had stuck her with a pin. “God, no! I want you here! I want you all over me!”

“Ah. Okay.” He flopped back onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling, bemused. “Wow. How did we get here, to this weird place?”

“It’s all your fault, Sam,” she snapped. “I was just trying to seduce you. But you refuse me. You insist on an uncomfortable conversation about my feelings and how I shouldn’t avoid them. You manipulate me into telling you things that hurt your feelings and freak you out.”

He rolled his eyes. “Does my ass look fat in these jeans?”

Her lips twitched, and she ran a teasing finger over the bulge in the front of his jeans. “Will you sulk if I tell you the truth? Because those jeans don’t fit so well right now.”

That cracked them both up. They snorted helplessly through their noses. Sveti doubled over, face in her hands.

When his own fit eased off, he pulled her hands from her face, and kissed her knuckles. He tasted tears, and licked them away. Every precious, salty, magic drop. By the time he was finished, her eyes were soft and dazzled looking, her lips soft and blurred with shaking.