Chapter 3 Catori POV "Journal"

I shut my journal and wrapped the leather cord around it before shoving it into the bottom drawer of my desk beneath a stack of old sketchbooks.

The Book of Constantine.

That's what I call it.

I write everything in there. My feelings. My fantasies. Every stupid girl thought I've had about him.

I've been doing it since I was fourteen.

Mom gave each of us a journal on our fourteenth birthday.

I glanced at the clock on my wall.

3:00 a.m.

Then I looked at my fluffy, ruffled comforter.

It looked comfortable.

Sleep, however, had abandoned me.

I couldn't stop thinking about how close he was.

Just across the hallway.

A few short steps.

One knock.

Maybe he'd let me climb into bed with him.

My entire body shivered.

Being in the same bed as a half-naked Constantine.

Being wrapped in his arms.

His scent surrounding me.

That sounded like heaven.

It would also make it very hard not to touch him.

My inner voice interrupted before my imagination could go any further.

Idiot.

You're a twenty-two-year-old virgin.

You've never dated. Never kissed anyone. You wouldn't even know what to do with him.

Constantine started dating when he was thirteen.

The first girl he ever called his girlfriend was Jean.

It broke my heart.

I cried for three days.

Mom couldn't figure out why I was so upset.

My worst memory happened when I was sixteen.

Even now, my stomach twisted when I thought about it.

Constantine was twenty-three.

We were in Italy for Uncle Illia's annual birthday celebration. The entire family attended every year. It was always chaotic in the best possible way.

Unfortunately, it was also where I experienced the most humiliating moment of my life.

I walked down to the second floor of the villa, where most of the men stayed.

I knocked.

Then opened the door.

Huge mistake.

Constantine was sitting on the edge of his bed.

Aleksandra was kneeling between his legs.

Her head was moving up and down.

I made eye contact with him.

The second I turned to run, I ended up throwing up on the staircase.

I spent the rest of the trip hiding in my room.

Partly because I was embarrassed.

Partly because my heart felt shattered.

One of the guards found me and called my mother.

The villa compound was heavily guarded. Men in tactical gear carrying rifles stood everywhere.

Growing up around it made it seem normal.

My uncle was a mafia don.

That came with certain realities.

Mom ended up giving me the most awkward talk of my life.

I still couldn't look Constantine in the eye afterward.

Not until Christmas.

I sighed.

Maybe I needed a snack.

A few minutes later, I wandered into the kitchen.

I opened the built-in refrigerator and stared inside.

Waiting for it to tell me what I wanted.

"Just get your berries."

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Constantine laughed softly behind me.

Heart racing, I grabbed the container of strawberries and blueberries before turning around.

Then he froze.

Or at least I thought he did.

His gaze had landed directly on my shirt.

Shit.

I'd been caught.

I was wearing one of his old Air Force PT shirts.

The one I'd stolen years ago.

I tugged at the hem as if that would somehow make it longer.

It wouldn't.

All I had underneath were tiny underwear.

"It's comfortable and soft," I mumbled.

His mouth twitched.

"You're the only person I've ever heard describe PTs that way."

His laugh sounded nervous.

Interesting.

"Can't sleep?" I asked.

Still couldn't quite look him in the eye.

"No."

His voice softened.

"It's too quiet here. Makes me miss Virginia. I wish I could open the windows."

He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

His arm nearly brushed mine.

So close I could feel his warmth.

We stood there in silence.

Me eating berries.

Him drinking water.

When we both left the kitchen, we almost collided despite the opening being massive.

Neither of us commented on it.

I stopped at my bedroom door.

He stopped at his.

Then he opened it.

"My door's open if you still can't sleep."

I looked up.

Then smiled.

His eyes narrowed immediately.

"Oh God. I know that look."

I bit my lip.

He sighed.

"Get in here."

Victory.

I practically floated after him.

His room felt exactly like him.

Black silk sheets.

Dark furniture.

Sheer black curtains.

Mine faced the morning sun. His got afternoon light.

The air smelled clean and fresh, mixed with the familiar scent of his cologne.

Something musky.

Something that reminded me of rain.

I watched him pull his shirt over his head.

My breath hitched.

Quickly, I climbed beneath the top sheet.

I knew what came next.

Constantine had always slept in his boxers.

The mattress dipped under his weight.

But something was different.

Instead of pulling me against him like he always used to, he left space between us.

A lot of space.

My chest tightened.

I scooted backward.

My ass bumped lightly against his side.

"Goodnight," he said.

The bedside lamp clicked off.

Darkness settled around us.

I stared at the wall.

Minutes passed.

Maybe longer.

Eventually his breathing slowed.

Evened out.

I carefully rolled over.

Then draped an arm across him.

Instantly, my entire body caught fire.

A second later, he turned toward me.

One arm settled around my waist.

My heart nearly exploded.

We weren't pressed together.

I could have moved closer.

I wanted to.

But I didn't dare.

I didn't want to wake him.

"Go to sleep, Kitty Cat."

His voice rumbled through the darkness.

Then he kissed the top of my head.

My entire body froze.

Holy fucking hell.

He wasn't asleep.

I lay perfectly still.

Not moving.

Not breathing.

Not thinking.

Because if Constantine Pavlov was awake...

Then there was a very good chance he knew exactly what I was doing.