"I want to be here."
"Good." He kissed me.
Not gentle. Not tentative. He kissed me like he was claiming something that already belonged to him, his hand fisting in my hair, his mouth demanding and hot and absolutely devastating. I made a sound—half gasp, half moan—and he swallowed it, pulling me closer until I was pressed against him. He was hard everywhere that I was soft, solid muscle and controlled strength.
His other hand slid down my back, over my ass, gripping tight. "I've wanted to do this for six fucking months."
"Could've fooled me," I managed. "You spent most of that time glaring."
"Because I wanted to bend you over every surface in this house." He nipped my lower lip. "Still do."
"Confident."
"Hungry." He walked me backward until my legs hit the bed. "And you're going to feed me."
He kissed down my neck, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. Then he found the spot where my pulse hammered and bit down just hard enough to make me gasp.
"Olek—"
"That's it. Say my name." His hands found the zipper of my dress. "I want to hear it when you come."
He pulled the zipper down slowly, the rasp of metal loud in the quiet room. The dress pooled at my feet, leaving me in justmy underwear—black lace that matched the dress, because if I was doing this, I was doing it right.
Olek stepped back, his gaze raking over me. "Jesus Christ."
"What?"
"You're—" He shook his head. "I knew you'd be beautiful. I didn't know you'd be perfect."
Heat flooded my face, my chest. "I'm not?—"
"Don't." His voice was rough. "Don't argue with me about this. You're perfect. These curves," His hands spanned my waist, slid up to cup my breasts through the lace. "This skin," he kissed my collarbone. "This mouth that never stops challenging me—" He kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine. I melted into it, into him, my hands fisting in his shirt. "On the bed," he murmured against my mouth. "Now."
I climbed onto his mattress, the one I'd made this morning—and lay back against the pillows. My heart was racing, my skin flushed, every nerve ending alive.
Olek stood at the foot of the bed, looking at me like I was a feast and he was starving.
"Spread your legs."
I did.
"Wider."
I obeyed, and watched his pupils blow wide.
"You wore this for me." He traced one finger up my inner thigh, stopping just short of where I needed him. "Wore lace under your dress because you knew I'd see it."
"Maybe I just like nice underwear."
"Maybe." His finger hooked under the edge of the lace. "Or maybe you wanted me to take it off."
He pulled the fabric aside and groaned. "Fuck. You're soaked."
"Observant," I shot back, using his own word.
He looked up at me, eyes dark. "Sassy even now. I'm going to enjoy breaking you down."
"Good luck with—oh God?—"
