“And if my father wakes up and?—”
“He likes me,” I cut in. “So still no.”
“What if I don’t like you?” She pops her hip and plants a hand there, chin tipped up, daring me.
“I’m not fucking with this tonight,” I say, stepping toward her.
“Not fucking with whaaaaa?—”
She squeals when I scoop her up and toss her over my shoulder.
“You’re such an asshole,” she laughs, breathless.
“Yes,” I say easily. “Most of the time. Which way to your room, Tsarina?”
“Left,” she says, still laughing.
I head that way, open the door, and kick it shut behind me.
“This place is fucking ridiculous,” I mutter, dropping her onto a bed that looks like a cloud. I step back, peel my shirt off, and glance around. “Is there even a TV?”
She doesn’t answer.
I turn back, and she’s pulling her shirt over her head, pale pink bra revealed as if she planned it that way. My jaw damn near hits the marble floor.
“What?” she asks.
“You,” I say, clearing my throat. “You’re…” I point at her.
“They’re boobs,” she says dryly. “I do, in fact, have them.”
She reaches behind her back, unhooks the clasp, and lets it slide off her shoulders. Her skin catches the light, and it lookslike it’s been polished daily by someone whose job it is to make perfection look effortless.
“You’re too perfect,” I say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.
“Is that why you haven’t tried anything?” she asks, stretching back against the bed, hair fanning out on her pillow like it’s been staged.
I shake my head, “You’re not a girl to bend over a bed and fuck, then leave unscathed.”
She unbuttons her jeans slowly, hooks her thumbs into the waistband, and starts sliding them down.
“I’d prefer our first time with us facing each other,” she says lightly. “But I’m not opposed to variety.” She lifts one foot, wiggling it. “Pull them off?”
“I leave for the road tomorrow,” I say. “I don’t want to fuck you and disappear for —”
“Well,” she says, calm as anything, “you’ll be back for three days after that. And honestly, I’m sick of waiting for you to make a move.”
I grab the fabric and tug one leg free, then the other.
“I want you, Tsarina,” I say. “But I planned to wait until we weren’t heading into a stretch where I can’t be here. I need you ready for what I want from you.”
She studies me. Serious now.
“So,” I say quietly, “you’re going to have to tell me exactly what you want.”
“I want you to be the first boy t?—”
“I’m no boy,” I interrupt, unbuttoning my jeans and shoving them down.
