That small victory emboldened me. I let my hand linger a moment longer than necessary before withdrawing, noting the faint flush that crept up his neck. My bear growled approvingly inside me.
Mine. Protect. Claim.
The kitchen felt impossibly small with both of us in it, though it was designed to accommodate several staff during my rare entertaining events.
The soft overhead lighting cast a warm glow across Mishka's fair skin, highlighting the delicate curve of his neck where it met his shoulder. I found myself fixated on that spot, imagining how it would feel beneath my lips, how he would taste.
These thoughts were dangerous. I had lived too long, maintained too much control to lose myself over unexpected attraction.
And yet...
"You missed a spot," I said, my voice rougher than intended as I reached around him to point at a bowl he'd just set aside.
The movement brought my chest against his back, my arms effectively caging him against the sink. He stiffened momentarily, then relaxed, leaning back slightly into my space.
The subtle shift was nearly my undoing.
I inhaled deeply, taking in his unique scent—something electric and clean, mixed with the soap and warm water. My bear roared its approval, clawing at my insides with a ferocity I hadn't experienced in decades.
"Did I?" Mishka asked, turning his head slightly. His cheek nearly brushed my chin, his voice carrying a hint of challenge that made my blood run hotter.
I didn't answer immediately. Couldn't. My focus had narrowed to the mere inches separating his body from mine, to the way his breathing had accelerated, matching my own labored rhythm.
"Here," I finally managed, reaching past him to grasp the dish towel.
The movement pressed us together more fully—my broad chest against his slender back, my hips against his. Even through layers of clothing, the contact was electrifying.
Mishka's breath caught audibly and I felt rather than saw the subtle arch of his spine that pushed him more firmly against me.
God, this boy was going to be the death of me.
I stayed there a moment longer than necessary, indulging in our proximity before reluctantly pulling back with the towel in hand.
The loss of contact was almost painful.
As I stepped away, I noticed the overhead lights flicker subtly. Then again, more pronounced this time. I glanced at Mishka, seeing his eyes widen slightly.
"Sorry," he whispered. "That happens sometimes when I'm... distracted."
The admission sent heat pooling low in my stomach. I was affecting him as strongly as he was affecting me—his electronic abilities responding to his heightened emotions.
I deliberately brushed against him again as I reached to dry a glass, my forearm sliding along his. This time the lights dimmed noticeably before brightening again. Mishka's knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the sink.
"Does that happen often?" I asked, my voice dropping to a register I reserved for more intimate conversations.
He swallowed visibly. "Only when my emotions are... intense."
My bear preened at the confession, smug that we could evoke such a response. I set down the dried plate and moved closer again, this time letting my fingers trace deliberately up his wrist to his forearm. The touch was light but purposeful.
The refrigerator hummed louder in response, the digital display flickering rapidly.
"And how intense are your emotions right now?" I murmured, my lips close to his ear.
Mishka's hands trembled as he reached for another glass. "I'm sure you can guess."
The admission please me, that hint of a smile growing slightly. I slid my hand from Mishka’s jaw to cup the back of his neck, warm and steady.
"I affect you," I stated, not a question but a confirmation.
