A tremor runs through me. His meaning is clear. He isn’t here to talk. He’s here to claim what he’s wanted all along.
My mind scrambles for something, anything to hold onto. “B-but Bryant…” I stammer. “My boyfriend—”
Alexei’s gaze narrows, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at his mouth. “He’s not your boyfriend.”
“How would you know?” I demand, more breathless than angry.
“Because I know everything about you.” His voice drops, low and dangerous. “Where you live. Who you see. The routes you walk home. The men who’ve tried to get too close.”
The room tilts slightly. “You…what?”
“I couldn’t be near you,” he says, taking another step closer, his chest almost brushing mine. “It wasn’t safe. Not for you. But I needed to know you were protected.”
I stare at him, scrambling to form a sensible line of thought. “Protected? You mean…watched?”
He nods once. “I hired private security. Men I trust. You never saw them, but they were there. If anyone had threatened you, I’d have known.”
Flashes of memory hit me—the times I’d felt eyes on me walking home at night, the unmarked cars parked across the street, the strange comfort I’d felt even when I should’ve been afraid.
I whisper, “That was you?”
His jaw tightens. “It was always me.”
Something inside me twists, half outrage, half aching relief. “So, if you already knew about Bryant,” I say, voice trembling, “then why were you so angry when you saw him? Why did you growl when he kissed my cheek?”
His hand hits the wall beside my head, the quiet thud echoing in my chest. His eyes are molten now, the calm stripped away.
“Because,” he says, every word low and deliberate, “I don’t like other men in your space.” He leans closer, his breath feathering against my lips. “I don’t like the thought of anyone else touching you. No one but me touches your skin.”
The words ripple through me, heat surging under my skin. My breath comes shallow, uneven.
“Alexei—” I whisper, but the rest of my words are swallowed as he closes the distance and kisses me.
This is nothing like the kiss from years ago. This one is deep, consuming, every suppressed moment of longing breaking free at once. His hand slides to my jaw, fingers firm, tilting my face up to his. His mouth claims mine with a hunger that feels both familiar and terrifying. I should pull away. I should tell him to stop. But the feel of him, solid and unyielding…the faint scrape of stubble against my skin—undoes every protest before it can form.
He kisses me like a man who’s been waiting forever. Like he’s afraid he’ll never get the chance again.
And I kiss him back. Hard. Desperate. Like the four years apart have been a slow burn that’s finally catching flame.
Alexei growls low in his chest, a dark, rough sound that vibrates through me. His hands move fast, sliding down my back,gripping my hips like he’s claiming lost ground. The world tilts. My spine hits the wall and his body follows, pressing me into the cool plaster, every inch of him pulsing with heat and need.
He tastes like sin and hunger. His tongue teases mine, coaxing, demanding, until my knees weaken. I grip his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm shape of him, the strength I used to dream about.
“Alexei…” I moan as his mouth finds my throat, my collarbone, the edge of my jaw.
He worships every inch he can reach, dragging soft gasps from my lips as his hand slides to my waist, my ribs, my thigh, every touch deliberate, every movement a question and a claim all at once.
“Four years,” he murmurs against my skin. “For four years, I told myself to stay away. I thought I could forget. But look at you…” His teeth graze my shoulder, and I shiver. “You drive me crazy,”
I tilt my head back, giving him more access. My pulse hammers against his mouth as he kisses a path down my neck to my collarbone, his lips lingering on the swell of my breast.
My nipples pebble in anticipation, and I'm still trying to process the shocking waves of pleasure coursing through my body when he suddenly drops to his knees in front of me.
My eyes fly open in shock, a soft gasp escaping my lips. “W-what're you doing?”
“Zayka,” he breathes, slipping a hand under my dress. He starts to run his palm up my leg, without taking his eyes off mine. I watch him, mesmerized by the staggering intensity in his eyes.
Slowly, he hooks his hand behind my knee, raises it up, and guides it over his shoulder. His hand roams further, and before Iknow what's going on, he hooks a finger around my panties and shifts them aside. Then, he slowly slides a finger into me.
