My throat is dry, but the word comes out anyway, breathless and certain. “Yes.”
The smile that flickers on his lips is brief, almost reverent, and then his mouth finally meets mine.
The kiss starts soft, almost tentative, and my body betrays me instantly, leaning forward, answering him before my mind can muster even the hint of protest.
Heat flares. His lips deepen against mine, hungry now, insistent. Somehow we’ve stumbled to the sofa, and I don’t even remember moving. He pulls me onto his lap, and I’m gasping, fingers clutching at his shoulders as his hands begin to explore—spanning my back, tracing my waist, dragging fire wherever they land.
The city lights blur behind us. All I feel is him.
Lev’s kiss is sharp, claiming, like he’s marking me, and the world narrows until it’s just him and me. My chest heaves, my pulse hammering in my ears. Then, without warning, he lifts me effortlessly into his arms. I gasp, clutching at his shoulders, the heat of his body pressing into mine as he carries me through the penthouse.
The door shuts behind us. The city lights spill through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but I barely see them. His eyes are all I can focus on—gray, intense, unyielding. His lips brush mine again, softening, teasing, but there’s a tension in him, a feral edge that makes my skin prickle.
He lays me gently on the bed, and my heart hammers in my chest. Every movement of his is slow, almost reverent. His hands slide over my dress, peeling it down inch by inch, and I can’t help but shiver. The way he looks at me…like I’m fragile, sacred, yet entirely his…it makes something inside me ache. I’m usually proud of my body, confident, bold. But under his gaze, the intensity is almost too much. I feel the urge to curl up, to hide, and I fight it.
His lips trail over my skin as the dress falls away, reverent kisses leaving a fire in their wake. Every touch is intentional, making me hyper-aware of every nerve, every inch of me. He pauses sometimes, his eyes drinking me in, and I almost cry at the way he’s worshiping me silently with his hands and lips.
Then, his hand brushes lower, skimming my skin until it rests at the apex between my thighs. I freeze, stiffeningimmediately. My chest rises and falls, heart thundering, and I find the courage to speak, my voice small but clear:
“I…I’ve never done this before.”
He stills immediately. For a long moment, he doesn’t move.
Then his voice—low, husky, threaded with something raw. “Christ, Sasha. You’ve never…?”
Shame flares hot in my chest, but I manage a nod. “No.”
The shift in him is immediate. I see possessiveness ignite in his eyes, that feral need burning hotter, but then he softens. He leans back slightly, his hands retreating, and his voice drops, low and intimate, almost a whisper meant only for me.
“Then we take it slow. Only what you want. I’m not going anywhere. I want this…you…to feel safe. To feel pleasure. Nothing else matters.”
I swallow at the softness of his voice. I was prepared for him to peel off me and turn away, to scoff and leave me hanging, but the hunger in his eyes only deepens. It’s almost savage, and yet it makes me relax.
Then his head lowers, and before I can even think, his mouth closes over my nipple. Heat explodes through me. I cry out, my back arching off the bed, my fingers tangling desperately in his hair.
“Lev—” His name tears from my throat, half gasp, half plea.
His tongue teases, circling, flicking, while his hand cups my other breast, kneading gently as though he’s memorizing me. He hums low in his throat, the vibration sending a shiver straight through me. I don’t know if I’m trembling because it’s too much or because it’s not enough.
He lifts his head just enough to look at me, lips glistening, eyes dark and molten. “You taste like I imagined,” he rasps,his accent thicker now, guttural, roughened by restraint. “Sweet. Addictive. Mine.”
The wordminerolls over me like a brand.
My breath catches, and instead of pulling away, I cling tighter, dragging him closer.
His mouth claims me again, harder this time, sucking until sparks scatter behind my eyelids. His hand slides down my stomach, skimming lower, and I stiffen for a heartbeat before his lips leave my breast and press against my collarbone.
“Shh…” he soothes against my skin, his tone equal parts command and caress. “Only what you can take,kotyonok. Nothing more. But let me show you how good it can feel.”
My body betrays me—I nod, helpless, needy, every nerve lit on fire as his hand hovers at the edge of where I want him most.
His gray eyes stay locked on mine as his fingers finally brush between my thighs. The contact is feather-light, a tease, but it’s enough to make my hips jerk up against his hand. He smiles like he’s been waiting for that reaction all along, wolfish and devastating.
“Sensitive,” he murmurs, stroking me through my slick heat. “Perfect.”
My breath shatters. No one has ever touched me like this—like I’m something rare, something worth worshiping. His pace is maddeningly slow, circling, pressing, retreating, until I’m gasping, clawing at his shoulders.
“Lev, please….” The words slip out before I can stop them, shame and desperation tangling in my throat.
