Your Last Everything

Chapter Three - Dimitri

There she stood. In front of the wine aisle, sniffling and wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. My hands twitched at my sides with the unrelenting urge to pull her right into my arms and comfort her.

Her tawny brown colored hair was let down out of its usual ponytail. The unruly mess of waves fell down her back, her long choppy bangs framing her picturesque features, and I had this domestic need to brush her hair out after a long day.

Her adorable little nose was red from all the crying, and I watched the tears stream down her pink-stained cheeks and dance over those lush red lips.

She was in snug jeans, the material clinging and kissing every inch of those legs and thick thighs, in a way where I desired to be.

She had on an oversized creamy knit sweater that reached down her ass, hiding those delicious curves I knew lay beneath.

I wanted to take all of her demons and fears that lingered in the back of her mind away and keep them to myself so that she never knew what pain even was.

I wanted to swallow her agony down my throat like a shot and erase every tear she's ever shed while filling in every crack of her heart with everything pure and light that existed in this world.

"Do you need me to arrest anybody for you?" I asked but kept my distance, afraid of getting too close and startling her.

She sniffled as she turned to face me. But God, I felt my heart stop when I caught those eyes.

Mesmerizing.

Penetrating.

She had molten honey brown eyes that made me want to murder everyone who had the chance to gaze into them besides me.

I would do anything for those eyes. I would lay down my soul just to be able to stare into her eyes until Judgement Day calls for me to stop.

I would kill for those eyes, and that thought alone staggered me as if my job wasn't to do the exact opposite of killing.

"I hate alcohol." She answered, her voice as soft as silk and warm as her eyes. "I hate it."

I know, zayka moya, I know.

"But God, sometimes I wish I didn't."

"Bad day?"

She sighed, running a shaky hand through her hair. "The absolute fucking worst."

"Ice cream helps." I offered the next best thing, and she turned her body so that we were now facing each other.

I felt under a microscope when those spell binding eyes scanned over my face before I felt her gaze slowly trail down the rest of me.

I had just gotten off my shift and was still in my police uniform that consisted of a dark blue blazer, black slacks, and the Tulsa Police Department patch on my left arm.

I had my handcuffs, gun, and badge on me as well, and I wondered briefly if she remembered me. If maybe seeing me in the uniform triggered her memory.

I saw her bite her bottom lip as she took me in, which made me wonder if she felt the same hypnotic pull I felt whenever I saw her.

"I don't think I should be eating ice cream." She mumbled more to herself, and I saw her fingers come up to tuck her bangs behind her ear.

I cocked my head confused. "Why not?"

"I need to cut back." She spoke, her hand ghosting over her stomach.

"On ice cream?"

"On food in general." Her eyes darted to the floor for a brief second, and I felt her entire demeanor change.