Before she can respond, I pull her up, her chair scraping softly against the tile. She lets out a breath as my body brushes hers.
“You’re impossible,” she mutters, but her fingers curl into my shirt.
“Maybe,” I murmur against her temple. “But I learn fast.”
Without giving her the chance to argue, I scoop her into my arms. She squeaks, half protesting, half laughing, as I carry her toward the bathroom.
“Alexei!”
“You said ten days,” I remind her. “If I only have that long, I’m starting now.”
I turn the shower knob and let the water run, testing it with my hand until steam begins to rise. She leans against the sink, watching me with that wary curiosity I’ve missed too damn much.
"Come here," I murmur.
She hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of my T-shirt. “Alexei, I've never…”
“I know.” I close the distance between us, cupping her face in my hands. “We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. I just want to be close to you.”
She exhales slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I want that too. I'm just...nervous.”
“Don't be.” I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. “It's just me,zayka.”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “That's exactly why I'm nervous.”
I chuckle and kiss her forehead, then step back. My hands go to the buttons of my shirt, unfastening them slowly, giving her time to adjust. Her eyes follow the movement, widening slightly as I shrug the fabric off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
Her cheeks flush pink, her gaze trailing down my chest before darting away.
“You can look,” I tell her quietly. “I want you to.”
She swallows hard, her eyes returning to me—shy but curious. When my hands move to my zipper, her breath catches audibly. I pause.
“Still okay?”
She nods, though her blush has deepened to crimson. I finish undressing, watching her reaction. Her lips part slightly, her eyes going wide as she takes me in. She looks almost...overwhelmed.
“Your turn,” I say gently. “But only if you want to.”
For a moment, she doesn't move. Then her hands find the hem of the T-shirt, and she pulls it over her head in one swift motion—like she's afraid she'll lose her nerve if she goes slowly. She stands before me in just her panties, arms instinctively crossing over her chest.
“No,” I murmur, stepping closer to gently guide her arms down. “Don't hide from me. You're beautiful, Anya.”
Her eyes glisten, vulnerable and trusting. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties, pausing to meet her gaze. She gives me a tiny nod, and I slide them down her legs.
Steam curls around us as I take her hand and lead her toward the shower. “Ready?”
“I think so,” she whispers.
When I step under the spray, I pull her in with me. The water slicks her hair to her shoulders, trails over her collarbone. She gasps softly at the heat, then relaxes as the water cascades over us both. I can't help but trace its path with my fingertips.
I reach for the soap and lather it between my hands, sliding them over her back, down her arms. She shivers– but not from the cold.
My hands move with purpose, learning her. Memorizing her. Every small sound she makes goes straight to my chest, heavy and hot.
After a moment, she reaches for the soap, her movements tentative.
“Let me,” she whispers.
