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Kissing Christian Allister made me feel more alive than any drug ever could.
I could still hear the words he pressed against my ear after I’d announced he’d been at my wedding. “I’m glad to see you remember, malyshka, because there is nothing I have ever forgotten about you.”
Somewhere between the ages of twenty and twenty-eight, I’d forgotten what longing felt like.
And then that feeling came back—that confusing feeling that had eluded me for eight years. Longing. Longing to be the subject of a look that intense. A look full of something so raw and vehement it could make anyone a believer.
He threw his phone to the side and then grasped my face between two rough hands, caressing my cheek with a thumb like I was something special, something precious. It momentarily stilled me. A raw wave of warmth flickered in my chest. It wasn’t until later I realized that was the moment the first wisps of devotion settled in and my downfall began.
The woman had no idea. She thought I liked her. I’d gone out of my way and followed her around for goddamn years just to look at her. I’d insulted her just to hear her smoky voice and witty response.
What he said made too much sense. I’d jumped to conclusions because I always assumed the worst in men. But that wasn’t only it. I wanted to believe the worst in him. Because he made me feel like I was spinning out of control, as if that life raft was slipping from my fingers every time he put his hands on me.
The first woman I wanted to look at me was too busy staring at another man. That was when I started to hate him—and I still do, even though he is dead”—his voice roughened with a slight accent—“because he got that look from you, and I never have.”
“I sought you out, just to see if you were as interesting as you looked.” His grip on my face tightened, like he was angry that I had been. “And I agreed to work with your husband. You fascinated me, but I began to hate you, too. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I couldn’t have you. And you were so fucking beautiful.”
“Because . . .” I sighed, searching for the reason and then just letting my first thought escape. “Because it’s always been you.”
“What do you want from me, Christian?” He turned to me, eyes dark. “Everything.”
“I’ve told you more about myself than I’ve ever told anyone else.” “That’s not a good enough reason for me to marry you, Christian.” “Fine.” He shook his head, his eyes flashing with darkness. “How about because I love you, Gianna?
Because I think I have since the moment I saw you? Because if you weren’t in this world anymore, I would find a way to take myself out of it?”