“Let it hurt to love you” Ulyana Soboleva. Ulyana Soboleva let it hurt to love you Download the free book “Let it hurt to love you” Ulyana Soboleva

Let loving you be painful Ulyana Soboleva

(estimates: 1 , average: 5,00 out of 5)

Title: May it hurt to love you
Author: Ulyana Soboleva
Year: 2017
Genre: Action-packed romance novels, Contemporary Russian literature

About the book “Let it hurt to love you” Ulyana Soboleva

Ulyana Soboleva is a modern writer, a native of Ukraine. Her popular book, Let It Hurt to Love You, is a sequel to the crowd-favorite story, Let Me Be Judged. Before us is an incredibly exciting dilogy, filled with life and warmth, telling about human relationships, about eternal life values, about the feelings and experiences of the characters. This is an amazing novel about true love, overcoming all obstacles in its path.

The narrative is filled with endlessly touching and memorable moments that will take your breath away and bring tears to your eyes. It’s as if we are living someone else’s life in parallel, alternately plunging into a whirlpool of fascinating plot intricacies, then returning to reality again. This magnificent novel will be interesting to read for all fans of deep, heartbreaking stories.

In her book, Ulyana Soboleva says that until a certain point in her life, the main character of the novel was as happy as possible. But, as you know, everything in our life has its expiration date. And after a while it turned out that the girl’s happiness was overdue from the very beginning. It would be too reckless to believe that a person can forever put an end to his own past. People are not really inclined to change, they simply put on a mask, act according to the circumstances and force others to believe that this is their true face.

This continues until this mask wears out completely, and suddenly the understanding comes that all this time there was a complete stranger nearby, and your relationship is actually built on lies and hypocrisy. So what is the best thing to do in this case?

Ulyana Soboleva in her work “Let It Hurt to Love You” presents to our attention a romantic story filled with subtle psychologism and indescribable emotional intensity, from which it is impossible to tear yourself away. Plunging into the very jungle of the inner world of our heroes and exploring every nook and cranny of it, the author demonstrates deep knowledge of the psychology of interpersonal relationships and a sensitive understanding of human nature.

The characters on the pages of the novel experience many strong feelings and vivid emotions, exciting joys and grave shocks, happy, romantic moments and unspeakable suffering. And the author’s wonderful language, unique atmosphere and elegant style of narration create all the conditions for reading and re-reading the book more than once.

On our website about books, you can download the site for free without registration or read online the book “Let it hurt to love you” by Ulyana Soboleva in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.

Download the book “Let it hurt to love you” for free by Ulyana Soboleva

Love can withstand a lot, but how much? Is there some kind of line? Some stories make you wonder endlessly. One of these stories was Ulyana Soboleva’s book “Let It Hurt to Love You,” which is a continuation of the novel “Let They Condemn Me.”

You can choose a boring life, spending your days with a person with whom you feel comfortable and have an established life. Or you can surrender to emotions, experience the most vivid feeling of love, with which, nevertheless, suffering will come, but all this is alive, real, unforgettable. Oksana chose the second option. She understood that Ruslan had a criminal past and was younger than her. But she decided to trust her feelings, especially since he was ready to meet her halfway. Now they live together, and everything was fine until recently. Ruslan needed to go to Russia to settle his father’s affairs. He left. And he stopped communicating. Oksana went after him and found out that the past still lives in the present. Perhaps Ruslan was just pretending all this time and had no plans to change at all.

The novel is full of unexpected plot twists; the main character will have to experience a lot of pain and disappointment, and look for a way out of difficult situations. But she still hopes that she will be able to improve her relationship with Ruslan and start a family with him. Will her love have enough strength to endure everything that fate has in store? Or will she decide that this is not her person?

The work was published in 2017 by AST Publishing House. The book is part of the Runet Star series. On our website you can download the book “Let It Hurt to Love You” in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format or read online. The book's rating is 3.8 out of 5. Here, before reading, you can also turn to reviews from readers who are already familiar with the book and find out their opinion. In our partner's online store you can buy and read the book in paper form.

When I saw you, my heart stopped. I realized that my life would change. I then saw your impudent eyes and felt that there would be no peace with you... But it didn’t matter to me and I realized that I was only waiting for you... Always...

LET THEM JUDGE ME.

This novel is a confession. Maybe the main character will be condemned. No, most likely they will throw stones at her. But this is my heroine. HE most likely will not happen. Well, or in the way everyone is used to seeing him. The cruel truth of life. Love comes in different forms. Here she is vicious, dirty and turned inside out. So ladies, adultery. I do not recommend reading it to those who advocate high morality. This work is a complete violation of morality with all that it entails. All characters are fictitious. There will be blood, violence and murder. Romance with crime. With explicit sex scenes.

Annotation:

Oksana is the simplest woman. Neither rich nor poor. With your own problems, family life and little joys. Lives like everyone else, looks like everyone else. She sincerely believes that this is right and how it should be, and she also believes that she is happy in the full sense of the word. She is an example of a faithful and devoted wife, a caring mother and an exemplary housewife. She considers betrayal to be a betrayal and condemns those who have stumbled.

He is Ruslan, the son of a crime boss. Controversial, hot-tempered, cruel and uncontrollable. The only heir to the entire empire of his father, whom he hated. He broke the law in his youth. He did not care about the code of honor accepted in his world. Nothing is sacred to him, and he openly quarrels with his father, trying to create his own business, involving blood, weapons and car thefts.

There is nothing in common between him and Oksana. They live in too different worlds. But they met and now their lives will change and will never be the same again.

She is married, she has a small son and a loving man nearby. She is thirty-three years old. She is an ideal wife and an exemplary mother.

She believes that life is good and she is extremely happy in her little world.

He broke the law as a child, he hates his own father and his body is covered with tattoos.

She spends her evenings doing needlework and watching TV series, while he steals cars, sells weapons and hides from his father and the law.

She considers betrayal a betrayal, and he changes women like gloves. They are too different for their paths to cross, but they will meet...

Let them judge me, but sometimes love is like a serious illness, like obsession and madness. Passion is sometimes blind and cruel. I believed that I loved my husband and was happy in my marriage, that my life was a success, and cheating was a betrayal. And then he appeared... He is younger than me, he is abnormal, uncontrollable and cruel. He is a bandit, the son of an influential crime boss. There is nothing sacred in his soul, and he lives one day at a time. His hands are stained with someone else's blood, and his body is covered with tattoos, his life is a swamp, we have nothing in common... You just can't order your heart...

I guess I'm happy. Well, in the sense in which the people around me think. I have a family, a son, a job. I am a young and quite attractive woman. I married my beloved guy early, who is now with me. I probably love him. I feel good with him, we understand each other perfectly. Like two halves of a puzzle. We have succeeded as individuals. Everyone has a favorite job. My husband is an engineer, I am an interior designer. In general, life was good. Unless, of course, you count the lack of money, everyday life and drab everyday life – home-work, work-home. Sex once a week, TV series in the evenings and knitting children's clothes. Everything is like everyone else. Seaside once a year, dacha, weekend with friends.

I also thought that I was happy. I woke up in the morning, took my son to kindergarten, and ran to work. More precisely, she was driving. I recently passed my license, and now my husband gave me the car, he had a working one. So now I could boastfully park at the office, although it didn’t work the first time, but still.

On this day, too, everything started as usual. The alarm clock rang and the usual morning bustle immediately burst into our three-room apartment. I took a shower, then grabbed my toothbrush. My husband lazily walked into the bathroom and reached out to me and kissed me on the neck. Then he sniffed and purred contentedly. His hands slid over my shoulders and down to my chest. I angrily kicked him with my elbow and muttered so as not to interfere.

“I miss you,” he whispered in my ear and pulled the nightie up on his hips.

And I’ll be late, and I have a serious contract coming up today.

I finally rinsed my mouth with water and was able to talk normally.

Ksyuyuyush, come on. Quickly.

His “quickie” made me angry. This meant one of two things: either he would now bend me over the sink and in two minutes everything would be over, or I would satisfy him in another way.

But not quickly, weakly in the evening? – I asked offendedly and pouted my lips. Lately, Seryozhka had been returning late from work and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

“I don’t feel like it in the evening, I want it now,” he muttered insistently, and I freaked out.

But I don't want to now.

I freed myself from his arms and went to wake up Vanya in the kindergarten. No, everything is fine in our bed, just everyday life kills the romance. However, like everyone else. Seryozhka was offended and now, silently, got dressed, looked for his cell phone, trying not to talk to me. Well, let him be offended. I'm a human too. I'm tired, I'm spinning like a squirrel in a wheel, and when I come home, my work doesn't end, but continues only as a housekeeper. Yesterday I bought beautiful underwear and was waiting for my husband in bed, ready for a pleasant evening, and he kissed me on the nose and fell asleep. Of course, he is also exhausted, and I should have flared up in vain, but the word is not a sparrow. I had already blurted out, and I didn’t want to back down. Let him take the weekend. I'm tired of "quickly". I want it for a long time and as before with screams, moans and until the morning.

I went into the nursery and, seeing Vanyushka, smiled. Well, how does he manage to turn his feet onto the pillow, hang his head off the bed and sleep?

What are you doing? You'll scare him.

Come on, he’s a man, he should join the army. Yes, Van? Are you a soldier?

Vanya nodded and sleepily rubbed his eyes, then yawned.

Mom, can I run over to Kostya’s today after kindergarten? He has a new cartridge for the console. Uncle Lesha bought it for him yesterday.

I handed Vanya a clean T-shirt.

We'll see how you behave. So, I’m going to the kitchen, and you go to the bathroom, otherwise we’ll all be late.

Ksyusha, I'll pick up the car today. Mine is broken. And I need to go to another city.

I frowned with displeasure. This meant walking to the metro and an hour to get to work, but she said out loud:

Fine. I can handle it. The main thing is that it doesn’t rain. Then bring Vanyushka.

No problem.

My husband came up behind me and put his arm around my waist.

You smell delicious and look wonderful.

The scoundrel is sucking up.

Do not be angry. I'm home on Sunday. Is it true. I already took the day off.

I turned to him and smiled, my soul warmed:

Really, hug me now. Otherwise we won’t go to the cinema.

I kissed Seryozha on the lips and handed him a sandwich.

You're a blackmailer, Novikov. Have your sandwich. I ran.

I threw on my raincoat, grabbed my umbrella, and slipped my feet into low-heeled pumps. She looked in the mirror and straightened her unruly bangs. I have an important deal. The main thing is not to get wet along the way and not look like a wet chicken.

Vanyushka hugged my legs.

I lifted him up and kissed his plump cheek.

Ulyana Soboleva

I would like to thank everyone who helped me write this novel and simply supported me always and in everything.

First of all, I thank my beloved husband. For his understanding, boundless and devoted love for me, his angelic patience and for the fact that next to him I am always happy and loved. Thank you, my dear, that you, like no one else, respect my work, my imagination and are always with me in all my crazy endeavors.

I thank my beloved mother, who always believed that sooner or later she would be able to hold my books in her hands and helped me with creative ideas, as well as in everyday life, freeing up such valuable time for me. Thank you mommy, I love you very much.

I thank my best friend, my poet, my Muse - Inna Yagubova, who supports me from the very first lines of this work (and not only), gives me the strength to write further, and also believes in me as an author and gives me confidence in my power. Ying, I love you, you inspire me. You know everything about me, you always lend your shoulder, and I can just cry into your vest, and you are always there.

I am grateful to my friend Ulyana Lysak, who helps me in everything, takes on all the organizational work and pushes me forward and only forward. Thank you, Ulya, I love you and really appreciate everything you do for me, friend.

Ward, I just thank you for having me - you are my personal sun.

I am also grateful to you, my readers, for your trust, for your boundless love and devotion, for your faith in me as an author.

Ulyana Soboleva.

Ulyana Soboleva. Let them judge me

When I first saw him, my life fell into pieces.

Let them judge me, I foresaw, I am addicted to him to the point of withdrawal...

Inna Yagubova, Ulyana Soboleva

Sometimes love is like a serious illness, like obsession and madness. Passion is sometimes blind and cruel. I thought that I loved my husband, we were happy in our marriage, I thought my life was a success, and cheating was a betrayal, and then he appeared...

I guess I'm happy. In the sense in which people around us understand happiness. I have a wonderful family: a beloved husband, a little son, an interesting job. I am a young and quite attractive woman who married the man I loved early and still have nothing to complain about. We feel good together, Sergei and I understand each other perfectly. We both succeeded as individuals. Everyone has a favorite job. My husband is an engineer and I am an interior designer. In general, life was good. Unless, of course, you take into account the constant lack of money, the boring way of life and the drab everyday life: home - work, work - home. Sex once a week, TV series in the evenings and knitting children's clothes. Everything is like many average families: the sea once a year, a dacha, weekends with friends.

I considered myself happy. Waking up early in the morning, I took my son to kindergarten and ran to work. More precisely, she was driving. I recently got my license and my husband gave me the car. He got a working car. So now I could boastfully park in the office parking lot. True, it didn’t work the first time, but still.

This day started as usual. The alarm clock rang, and the usual morning bustle immediately burst into our three-room apartment. I took a shower and grabbed my toothbrush. My husband lazily walked into the bathroom and reached out to me and kissed me on the neck. Then he sniffed and purred contentedly. His hands slid over my shoulders and down to my chest. I angrily kicked him with my elbow and muttered not to interfere.

“I miss you,” he whispered in my ear and pulled his nightgown up on his hips.

– Seryozha, I’ll be late, there’s a serious contract planned for today.

I finally rinsed my mouth with water and was able to talk normally.

- Ksyu-yu-yu-yush, well, let’s make it quick.

His “quickie” made me angry. This meant one of two things - either he would now bend me over the sink and in two minutes everything would be over, or I would have to satisfy him in another way.

– Shouldn’t it be “quick” in the evening? – I asked offendedly and pouted my lips. Recently, Sergei returned late from work and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

“I don’t feel like it this evening, I want it now,” he muttered insistently. Then I freaked out:

- But I don’t want to now.

I freed myself from his arms and went to wake up Vanya in the kindergarten. No, everything is fine in our bed, it’s just everyday life and everyday life that kills the romance. However, like everyone else. Seryozha was offended: he silently got dressed, found his cell phone, trying not to talk to me. Well, let him be offended. I'm a human too. I'm tired - I'm spinning like a squirrel in a wheel. When I come home, my work does not end, but continues, only now as a housekeeper. Yesterday I bought some beautiful underwear in a store and waited for my husband in bed, ready for a pleasant evening. But he didn’t even notice, he kissed me on the nose and fell asleep. Of course, Seryozhka is also exhausted. I shouldn’t have flared up, but the word is not a sparrow. I had already blurted out, and I didn’t want to back down. Let him take the weekend. I'm tired of "quickly". I want it to be as before for a long time - with screams, moans and until the morning.

I went into the nursery, saw Vanyushka and smiled. And how does he manage to turn his feet onto the pillow, hang his head off the bed and sleep?

- Soldiers get up! – the husband’s voice sounded loudly in my ear. I shuddered in surprise, and Vanya jumped on the bed.

- What are you doing? You'll scare him!

- Come on, he’s a man, he should join the army. Yes, Van? Are you a soldier?

Vanya nodded and sleepily rubbed his eyes, then yawned.

- Mom, can I run to Kostya’s today? He has a new cartridge for the console. Uncle Lesha bought it yesterday.

I handed Vanya a clean T-shirt.

- We'll see how you behave. I’ll go to the kitchen, and you go to the bathroom, otherwise we’ll be late for everything.

– Ksyusha, I’ll pick up the car today. The worker broke down, and I need to go to another city.

I frowned with displeasure. This meant walking to the metro and another hour to get to work, but she said out loud:

- Fine. I can handle it. The main thing is that it doesn’t rain. Then bring Vanyushka.

- No problem.

My husband came up behind me and put his arm around my waist.

– You smell delicious and look wonderful.

He's sucking up, you scoundrel.

- Do not be angry. I'm home on Sunday, I've already taken the day off.

I turned to him and smiled, my soul warmed.

- Is it true?

- Really, hug me immediately. Otherwise we won’t go to the cinema.

I kissed Seryozha on the lips and handed him a sandwich.

- You are a blackmailer, Novikov. Have your sandwich. I ran.

Throwing on my raincoat, I grabbed an umbrella and slipped my feet into low-heeled pumps. She looked in the mirror and straightened her unruly bangs. I have an important deal. The main thing is not to get wet along the way and not to look like a plucked chicken.

Vanyushka hugged my legs.

- And the smack?

I lifted him up and kissed his chubby cheek.

The subway was crowded, as always at this time. Thank God it’s not summer—it’s not so stuffy. People crowded the station. Some were listening to the player, some were reading the morning newspaper, some simply fell asleep while standing, propping up the wall. Seven in the morning. I myself still sleep a little at this time. Even coffee doesn't help. True, I don’t drink custard, only instant with milk and without sugar.

Today I have a meeting with an important client. If he likes my work, a new order will appear. Very opportunely – Seryozhka and I have long wanted to start renovations. Vanya has grown up. It's time to redecorate his room - put in a desk, change the crib for a new one. Besides, my mother wants to come visit. This is for at least several months. She now lives in the north, but plans to move to our capital in the near future. Her job is so harmful - an archaeologist. As a child, I thought it was a scary word. My parents left me with my grandmother and left. We haven't seen each other for months. Then my father died - he drowned in the river. A truly stupid death. Father was an excellent swimmer. His leg cramped and he drowned. I was thirteen years old then. Since then I haven’t gone into the water, except maybe into the paddling pool with Vanyushka. Mom couldn’t come to her senses for a long time. But then everything seemed to fall into place, and she again took up her favorite job. And it was wonderful for me and my grandmother. We were always busy: music school, gymnastics and drawing club. I didn’t even have time to go for a walk. At school I was considered a nerd. I was never part of the class elite. I just matured later than others. My breasts only started growing when I was fifteen. My classmates at this age had already had abortions.

Ulyana Soboleva

Let loving you be painful

© U. Soboleva, text

© AST Publishing House LLC

The last time I looked out the car window at such painfully familiar landscapes, I didn’t even think about the fact that I was leaving these places forever. I was consumed by a completely different melancholy. I lost much more than the opportunity to simply stay in my hometown and in my home country. It is much more terrible not to feel this bitterness of an emigrant who leaves his homeland, because another loss overshadowed all emotions, making them insignificant. What difference does it make at which end of the world you chew your pillow or howl at night? Especially if there wasn’t much choice left.

Now, looking out the window of the taxi, I again caught myself thinking that I was only thinking about whether I would make it to the funeral and why Ruslan did not answer my calls. Once again I dialed his number and listened to the monotonous voice on the answering machine. There is no panic yet, but there is that very presentiment from which the heart painfully contracts and no longer unclenches, but begins to ache in the chest. I wrote several messages to Ruslan and lit a cigarette, watching trees and similar buildings flash before my eyes, so different from the colorful buildings of Valencia. Still, a person is happy not at all where his homeland is, but where he feels at home. For me, home was next to Ruslan and the children. Yes, I naively assumed that I could be confident in the future, as well as in the man who was next to me.

...How difficult it is to tell someone about happiness. Suddenly you catch yourself thinking that there is nothing special to say. You can write entire treatises about grief, but happiness is so airy, weightless and fleeting that it is better to remain silent about it so as not to frighten it away. And why talk if it entwines your world so much that from the outside it seems like you are glowing with invisible neon flashes of euphoria. When you just want to squeeze HIS hand, intertwining your fingers, and look at the world with crazy eyes, and silently shout: “Can’t you see how good I feel, how I fly? It seems to you that I am walking, but in reality I am flying. High, high."

At first you are afraid to frighten off this flight, to flap your wings incorrectly, or suddenly realize that you are just sleeping and you are dreaming about all this, and then you get used to soaring and fly more and more confidently, higher and higher, forgetting about the height gained and the fact that the element of the sky unpredictable over you.

But how can you think about anything if the sun is blinding and the sky is crystal clear?

I opened my eyes in the morning and lay in silence for a few more minutes, inhaling his scent, listening to the beating of my heart or examining every feature of my face, touching my cheekbones with my fingertips, until he opened his eyes and threw me onto my back, greedily crushing my skin with his hot palms, covering and bursting into my flight with the earthy-beautiful vulgarity of tireless youth. I was reeling from fatigue, I covered the bruises under my eyes with foundation and still saw in the mirror an indecently happy woman who had been mercilessly fucked all night long and would certainly be fucked the next and the one that follows.

Sometimes I fell asleep almost standing with Rusya in my arms or stirring porridge at the stove, on the sofa watching TV, at the computer while working on new projects. Ruslan opened an interior design company for me, and now I spent all day working only on the company, looking for new personnel, launching projects, traveling to sites. Mom looked after our children, and Ruslan himself put all his energy into his transportation business, which was just beginning to gain momentum in Spain and Russia. He kept his word - nothing illegal. The past is over. At least with that past, from which bloody traces and shadows from bars on the windows stretch.

Next to him, I forgot how old I was; it seemed to me that I was younger, stupider and more naive than a schoolgirl. All stereotypes were destroyed, broken and sent as a useless burden to the closet of signs and superstitions. I forgot about my fears about our age difference and about the young girls who surrounded him at work and looked carnivorously into his eyes in the hope of getting a promising boss into their bed. Ruslan made me believe that for him I was the one and only. A woman remains a woman as long as she is desired. She remains young and beautiful as long as there is someone nearby who, at any age, will tell her: “I love you, little one.” And she won’t just say it, but prove it thousands, hundreds of thousands of times: with glances, violent thrusts inside her hot body, hoarse moans and hungry “I want you now.” Everywhere. Any second. Demanding and domineering without the slightest chance of resistance. Sometimes in the middle of the working day, bursting into the house, throwing off clothes as I go and greedily watching how I breastfeed Rusya, so that he could then torment his swollen nipples with his hungry mouth and growl with pleasure when drops of milk would fall on his tongue. Sometimes he would send a car for me so that I would come to him immediately, and, locking the office with a key from the inside, frantically fuck me on the desktop, scattering folders and securities, or, while business partners were waiting in the banquet hall for the young owner of the company, I, standing on her knees, she caressed his penis with her mouth. And sometimes, holding my cell phone between my ear and shoulder, I furiously rubbed myself between my legs with trembling fingers the way he told me in an insinuating voice into the phone, until I started screaming in his ear from a merciless orgasm and heard his hoarse groan in response, imagining , how strong male fingers get dirty with sperm when he cums, barely hearing my screams. At a distance of thousands of kilometers from me and yet with me, and mentally in me.

I began to forget about his past, about why we live in Valencia, and I never went to my homeland, why he has new documents, and why he hid away from me for a whole year and could not even tell that he alive Happiness does not like to ask questions; it does not need answers. It lives here and now, it lives in tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, but not in the past. Happiness does not like to be darkened; it is too selfish and blind. What once seemed like a gray routine to me with Sergei, next to Ruslan it played with some mystical colors of happiness.

I sometimes thought about this and realized that it’s not a matter of everyday life or a habit, but a matter of choice. You only need to live with the person with whom you want to open your eyes and smile in the morning, when the first thoughts that come to mind are about his smell, how funny he pulls on his socks when he is late for the office, and how touchingly he kisses the sleeping woman. daughter before leaving. How funny the shaving foam looks on his cheekbones and how charming his T-shirt looks on me.

Imagine what he will be like in ten, twenty years, and understand that I will love him anyway. Even bald, fat and old. And I don't get annoyed by a raised toilet lid, a half-eaten sandwich, a football game or empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

You finish this very sandwich, washing it down with HIS tea, putting empty bottles in a garbage bag as you go and checking the program guide when the next match will be so you can tell him about it, stock up on your favorite spicy chips and learn the names of all the players of the team for which he supports , and then put his shirts and T-shirts into the washing machine and regret that in a couple of hours they will smell like powder and not the smell of his body. This is what happiness consists of.

Someone will say that, perhaps, finances did not allow us much with Sergei, while Rus provided us with a comfortable existence, but I thought thousands of times that if I didn’t have a penny, I would still feel the same .

That night I woke up in bed alone, stretched and stood up, pulling the blanket higher and peering at Ruslan’s silhouette behind the transparent curtains. Smoking on the veranda. She stood up silently, pulled on her panties and robe and walked barefoot towards him, gently hugging Ruslan from behind, running her hands under his T-shirt, enjoying the touch of his smooth, hot skin:

- Why do not you sleep? It's still so early.

He grabbed my hands with his and squeezed tightly.

“My father called and asked me to come.

My heart began to beat alarmingly and I tensed up. This always happened when Ruslan had to leave. I became afraid that Tsarev Sr. would again drag him into some kind of adventure and that where I was not there, Ruslan would certainly be in danger. This is a stupid feeling that while your loved one is nearby, you can control and prevent something, but as soon as he moves away, you no longer control anything.

- As fast as possible. He had problems with the election campaign.

Ruslan suddenly turned around sharply with me so that now I was standing at the railing with my back to him, and he was behind me, leaning on his hands and blocking all paths to retreat.

- Something happened? - I asked carefully, trying to avoid his lips, which left a wet trail on my shoulder and moved along my neck to the back of my head.

“Yes,” he whispered in my ear and ran his fingertips along my collarbones, “it happened.” You got out of bed and put these rags on yourself.