52

SASHA Violent shivers break out all over my skin in an unbearable chaos. My first thought is to run. There’s absolutely no use in considering any other options when all of them will lead to the half-naked enigma in front of me. Kirill lounges leisurely on one of the wooden benches, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, hinting at the inked V line and teasing the toned muscles of his stomach. His skin glistens with humidity, drawing more attention to his slick, defined abs. Despite the low orange light in the sauna, everything about him pops—his tattoos, his muscular superiority, and his monstrous strength. Strands of his now longer hair fall haphazardly over his strong forehead, some of them camouflaging the inhumane color of his ice-cold eyes. Dangerous, ethereal eyes. There’s nothing idle about Kirill, even if his casual posture aims to convince me of such. He’s just not someone to be taken lightly or easily. I’ve known him for months, and I still feel as extremely out of my dept