“We can stop.”
“I don’t want to stop. Not yet.”
He pulls back enough to look at me. Those blue eyes search mine, looking for any sign of hesitation. “You’re sure?”
“No,” I admit. “But I’m still here.”
Something shifts in his face.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “Do you want me to take off your dress?”
I nod.
He reaches behind me for the zipper of my dress. The sound of it sliding down seems impossibly loud in the quiet room. My heart is beating too fast. I feel dizzy, but not afraid.
Not yet.
He pushes the fabric off my shoulders. It pools at my feet, leaving me in just my bra and panties. Black. Simple. Nothing special.
The cool air in the room brushes over my exposed skin. No one has seen me like this.
I look to him for reassurance.
He goes still.
“Jesus,” he says softly, like the word got dragged out of him.
His hands skim up my sides. I flinch involuntarily, and he freezes.
“Too much?”
I shake my head. “No. Keep going.”
He does. His touch is feather-light as his fingers dance over my skin. Up my ribs. Across my collarbone. Down my arms.
“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”
Heat floods through me, slow and heavy.
“How long?” I ask.
“Too long.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Longer than I should admit.”
His honesty undoes me. I reach up and thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him back to my mouth. This kiss is different. Hungrier. I’m the one pushing now, the one demanding more.
He groans against my lips. “Sofia.”
“Shh, just kiss me.”
20
Sergei
I’ve had women in my bed before. Enough that I stopped attaching meaning to it a long time ago. It was release. Nothing more.
This is different.
Standing here with Sofia trembling in my arms, I feel the strain of my own restraint in every inch of my body. One wrong move. One careless word. Too much pressure, too fast, and I ruin this.