Maybe.
I took his hand. And let him lead me to his bedroom so we could do what I’d agreed to. The part of us that was safe. Not that conversational piece that he’d been trying for before. Now we could get to business.
The bedroom was different tonight. Candles flickered on the nightstands, casting warm shadows across the walls. The curtains were drawn, making it feel intimate. Private.
Like this was more than just sex.
"You went all out," I said, trying to keep my voice light.
"I told you. I want this to be good for you." He closed the door behind us and turned the lock. The click echoed in the quiet room. "Not just physical. All of it."
"It's just sex, Olek." I tried to get him to refocus on the reason we were here. To keep the confusion out of things. I didn’t want to have to worry about him catching feelings or becoming attached. This was what this was.
"Is it?" He moved toward me slowly and predatory. "Because your pulse is racing. Your pupils are dilated. And you've been thinking about this all day."
"So have you, apparently." I muttered.
"Every fucking second." He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel his heat. "Couldn't concentrate in the meetings. Mikhail asked, if I was sick."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I was distracted." His fingers found the zipper of my dress. "Didn't mention it was because I kept imagining you like this. In my room. Wearing this dress with nothing underneath."
He pulled the zipper down slowly, the sound loud in the quiet. The dress slipped off my shoulders, pooled at my feet. Leaving me completely naked. His sharp intake of breath made me shiver.
"Katrina." My name was a prayer. A curse. Something that felt like it was a confession. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Dramatic."
"Honest." He traced his fingers down my sternum, between my breasts, over my stomach. "I want to memorize every inch of you."
"You have ninety days."
"Not nearly enough." He dropped to his knees in front of me, and the sight of this powerful, dangerous man kneeling put me in awe. "Spread your legs."
I did, my breath coming faster. He leaned in and kissed my hip bone. My stomach. The inside of my thigh.
"Olek—" I sighed, feeling like this was too much. I appreciate the pleasure that he gave me last night. Right now, I needed him to understand that it was better if we fucked and I left.
"Patience." His breath ghosted over my center, making me tremble. "I'm savoring this."
"You savored last night."
"I'm greedy." He looked up at me, eyes dark. "And you taste too good to rush."
Then his mouth was on me, and I forgot how to form words. He took his time, licking and sucking and exploring like he had all night. Like my pleasure was the only thing that mattered. His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady when my knees went weak.
"Olek, please—" I didn’t know if I was begging for release or for him to get on with it, to not be so gentle and thoughtful. When I’d agreed to this, I’d expected it to be cold and distant. Something that I checked off the list. He was making it about what I needed and getting me off–my orgasms seemed to be his motivation. That could easily become addictive. No, sir.
"Not yet." He pulled back, and I whimpered at the loss. "On the bed. I want you comfortable for this."
I climbed onto the mattress, my body already trembling with need. He followed, still fully dressed, which seemed deeply unfair.
"Take off your shirt," I demanded. Hoping to pull him further into the moment.
His eyebrow rose. "Giving orders now?"
"You've seen me naked already. It's only fair." I insisted.
