𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

45

~ phoenix ~

After coming down from my all time high, I couldn't meet his gaze.

I buried my face against his chest, feeling strange emotions fill my chest.

"Phoenix baby," Ilya murmured in my ear.

Suddenly cold, I trembled.

To my relief, he didn't force me to meet his gaze. Instead, he hoisted me up and automatically, my legs wrapped around his hips. I didn't know how to feel about his small reassuring touches, like the hand that was gently stroking my hair.

I was no stranger to sex but whatever Ilya Ivanov just did to me was nothing I'd ever experienced before. No one had rendered me so vulnerable before. It was unsettling what he could do to me with the smallest of touches. I hated how I became putty in his hands, how easily I could get carried away in his presence... This wasn't me.

And this was only the first day of work! If it carried on like this...

Ilya moved towards the desk, and I was carefully placed on it. His sudden gentleness was irritating. I wasn't fragile just because he fingered me. When he pulled away, his embrace was replaced by a cold draught. I tugged on the end of my dress, pulling it into place.

But apparently, that's not what he wanted. He pulled my dress back up to reveal my soaked panties. I cringed in embarrassment, swatting the towel in his hand away.

"Let me-"

Plagued by a torrent of shame, anger and frustration, I abruptly stood. I looked away with furrowed brows, to conceal the heat that flared on my cheeks. To my horror, there was a stinging threat in my eyes. Fuck, I couldn't cry now.

"No," I finally mumbled, "I can handle it."

His face snapped up, creasing with a frown.

Before he could argue, I spun away to leave.

Ilya surprised me then. Not because he grabbed my wrist - he did that all the time - but because he didn't tug me to him. The hand around my wrist was loose, hesitant like he was waiting for me to shake it off. I was going to but then he had to open that mouth of his.

"Phoenix. I am... sorry."

My eyes widened, filling with tears. They were guilty tears.

"I shouldn't have done that without asking. I'm sorry."

Slowly, I turned to face him. "It was me, Ilya," I admitted quietly, "Don't be sorry."

A moment of excruciating silence passed between us.

I heard no response so I walked away silently. We could postpone the first day of work. Clearly, it wasn't going well so far.

I reached the door, slowing slightly. Wasn't he going to stop me?

As soon as the thought entered my mind, I banished it. What the hell was I thinking?

"Phoenix, wait."

I really had to jinx it didn't I?!

I heard his heavy strides towards me. A careful hand landed on my shoulder to spin me towards him. I complied without hesitation.

When my eyes met his, I was shocked to see the icy flames in their depths.

"Stop," he hissed.

The accusing tone in his voice made me narrow my eyes. Even if it was my fault, I wouldn't taken anybody's bullshit.

I opened my mouth to fire something back, forgetting the heavy humiliation of what happened before.

"Stop doing this to yourself, to me. Why is it so wrong that I touched you, Phoenix? Why won't you just accept us? Why are you so damn stubborn?" he growled, cornering me with both his large frame and his condemning words.

I was startled to hear the undertone of desperation in his voice. Ilya Ivanov didn't beg. Ever.

"I told you you were mine. You are. And I- I'm yours, okay?" he pressed.

My heart swelled with an unrecognisable emotion. It hurt.

"I'm sorry that this isn't what you wanted. I'm sorry that you can't have what you dream of but I promised to give you everything I could. Isn't that enough?"

I opened my mouth to answer but what came out was a gaping silence. What could I possibly say to that?

Suddenly, Ilya stepped back. I felt his eyes trail down my body, as if ingraining my every feature into memory. Some sort of panic began to bubble within me. Say something, Phoenix!

Like an unspoken goodbye, his gaze arrived at mine. And then, he turned his back to me.

Each sounding step was the ticking of a time bomb. Think, I screamed to myself, what the hell do I want? Can I leave him? Is this it?

"Ilya!"

I hadn't made the decision yet, so what the hell was I doing? I didn't know, but it felt right...

Hurt stabbed my chest when he didn't turn around.

"Ilya!" I tried again.

I ran, skidding to a halt in front of him.

He narrowed his eyes, jaw stiff. There was the ghost of pain on his flawless face. I did that.

"Ilya?"

My hands fisted around his lapels, demanding his attention. But he wasn't listening.

Actions speak louder than words, I figured.

So, stretching up on my tallest tippy toes - because there was nothing else I could do to reach the damn giant - I showed him how I felt. My lips softly coaxed his open. I poured all my guilt, all my desire, all my love into his mouth. Unable to reach him completely, I carefully stepped onto his shoes, tugging him down an inch.

When hesitantly he responded, I realised that there was no life I could imagine without Ilya Ivanov. Not after these hellish three months. Certainly not after he showed me what it felt like to crave someone so bad that it left your heart aching...

My entire nineteen years of existence, not once did I feel incomplete nor empty. I guess I just thought I would eventually stumble into my fate. That was him.

That night in Milan... that was me stumbling into my Ilya Ivanov. If only I had realised it earlier... Would I have saved us both all the pain and hurt?

His tongue swirled beautiful nothings on mine. There were no butterflies in my stomach; there were birds, who sang with content. The salty tears that slipped between our lips were happy promises.

Speaking of...

Reluctantly I craned my head back to scan his face. "I think I know what I want, Ilya," I whispered, "You."

I waited for a reaction. To my dismay, his expression remained passive.

"I promise," I pressed, my gaze burning into his, "I promise I'll be yours."

Slowly, the silver embers rekindled. I didn't complain but welcomed the hands jumped to my waist, hoisting me up.

This time, our lips collided. He branded his own promises onto my parched skin.

We began to move.

"Where are we going?" I whispered, breathlessly.

"To our room."

𝑥𝑜
𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖎