Loving You Is Forbidden (Third Book of "Fire and Ice" series)

CH. 18: Where love and respect fuse with true belonging (Part 1)

God, I shot up and kicked my covers away, feeling suddenly too warm to stand them. A drop of sweat rolled down my neck and it was clear I needed to shift my thoughts elsewhere. I was too edgy and it was his fault, because he was damn too hot and damn too maddening. And I had his first and only kiss...the idea set my blood on fire and at the same time, arrested my brain completely. He had shared something like that with me and with me only. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I had fallen for that bastard so much that it felt as if I had been absorbed by his own heart and feelings.

I paced around the room a few minutes to cool down, because I was having serious problems here. Oleg freaking excited me too much and that wasn't the only issue: he didn't excite me only a physical level, but on an emotional point, too. I wanted to spend more time with him, talk with him, learn more about him, and ask him every sort of moronic question bugging my idiotic mind, and more and more. I wanted to be closer to him, and for crying out loud, I needed a cold shower. My brained had geared too fast and so did my buddy. Was it possible to get physically excited by the idea of simply lazing around with him, watching something together and only sharing a peaceful moment with that bastard? Apparently yes and apparently I was turning out worse than my brother.

"Over my dead body," I hissed to myself, since there was no freaking way in hell I would ever turn out like him.

I mean, he was quite the cheesy case and definitely I wasn't going to start call Oleg with ridiculous pet names and shit like that. It wasn't my thing and somehow it seemed to me that he also would not exactly enjoy it. I cringed at the idea of someone calling me with some corny pet-name. I was barely fine with my mum and that only because she meant it in a very affectionate way and because we were her sons, but that was more than enough.

Shower helped a bit in calming down and as my eyes checked my reflection in the mirror, I could see my hair needed to be shaved. It had grown too long on the side for my taste and then, I paused a moment. The tattoo on my neck stood out and yeah, this one had to be completely erased. Oleg postponed the appointment for next week and I couldn't wait to get rid of this shit. Enough was enough. I already knew what I wanted to have here and I knew I wanted a third, new tattoo.

I closed the door of my room behind me and felt almost bold at the idea of talking and letting everything out, but as my feet took me to the kitchen, where I knew my parents were probably having breakfast alone, I grew more nervous. All of my stupid confidence seemed to evaporate and my heart raced faster. At first, it seemed easy to go and talk to them about my feelings, hoping they would understand them and not find it strange or wrong, or making them worry over me. Right, who was I freaking kidding? I was nervous as fuck and even though I hated that with all my power, it couldn't be helped. We didn't stand on a very easy position, aside the fact that he was almost fifteen years older than me. Yet I hadn't felt that difference in age between us and anyway, I was nineteen and I knew what I wanted.

Oleg last night told me he had already asked my dad and mum for a private meeting and I wondered if they had guessed the reasons of his request. Well, they were sure going to guess it as soon as my mouth opened in front of them. A heavy and nervous breath left my mouth as I faced the closed door of the kitchen. They were in there, quietly murmuring and enjoying a cup of coffee alone, as they always woke up early to spend this moment together, for then joining my brother and me during our breakfast time. I felt my hands sweaty and my breathing became erratic.

What would they say about this? Would they understand it and accept it? What would I do if they weren't going to accept it?

Oh freak, it was pointless to just stand there and to act like a ridiculous dimwit. I had to face this and then I would think how to eventually act. I rolled my shoulders and forced my chin up. They had to know and they had to understand my feelings were real and nothing like some moronic teenager-ish phase, or dictated by the fact that Oleg pulled my sorry ass out of the gutter. No. What I felt was real and honest, and it had no compromises. My hand stopped on the handle and after another deep breath, I opened the door. I had thought whether waiting for the evening, but I couldn't wait any longer. It had to be then.