He shrugs, as if it means nothing. “You told me in London—about sneaking into empty practice rooms at Britten Hall just to sing for yourself. How the silence before the first note made you feel more alive than the applause ever did.” He gestures to the intimate hall around us. “I wanted you to have that feeling again. But this time, with someone who understands what it means to you.”
I blink hard against the tears quickly forming in my eyes. “That was just a passing comment. I didn't think you were really paying attention.”
“I'm always paying attention when it comes to you.”
I swallow, unable to say a word after that. He does this…says or does something so unexpectedly tender that it steals the breath right out of my lungs.
I reach for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. He looks down at our joined hands, then back at me, and something shifts in his eyes—a crack in that iron control he wears like armor.
“Alexei…” I start, but I don't know how to finish. How do you thank someone for seeing you so completely?
He lifts our hands and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “You don't have to say anything, zayka.”
The meet and greet with the performers passes in a haze. I smile. I nod. I say the right things—but my mind is elsewhere. On him. On us. On the terrifying, exhilarating feeling that I'm falling and there's no going back.
Outside, the night feels brighter somehow. Alexei guides me through the park again until we stop by a tiny hot dog cart near the edge of the path.
I laugh, half from disbelief but mostly from the happiness that's been bubbling inside me all day. “Carnegie Hall and hot dogs?”
He smirks. “Balance.”
I take a bite, groaning softly as the flavor hits. “God, I missed these.”
His eyes darken at the sound. He lowers his gaze to my mouth. “Careful, Anya. You keep making noises like that, and I’ll forget we’re in public.”
The air between us becomes heavy with that familiar tension. He tosses his half-finished hot dog in the trash and takes my hand, leading me back toward the waiting car.
“You have some mustard right here,” he murmurs as he settles beside me in the car, and before I can make sense of what he means, he leans in and licks it away.
“Alexei…” I murmur breathlessly.
His eyes drift to my lips, lingering long enough to register his intention even before he claims my mouth. I close my eyes with a soft sigh, melting right into him. He slides his hand around my back, pressing me closer to him as he deepens the kiss with a low groan.
Then he pulls back and, without taking his eyes off me, raps his knuckles against the partition. “Home, Sergei. Now.”
The privacy screen rises with a soft hum.
His mouth finds my neck, my collarbone, then a spot behind my ear that makes me gasp. His hand slides up my thigh, pushing the hem of my dress higher, and heat pools low in my belly.
“Alexei,” I breathe, my fingers curling into his shirt.
“I’ve been thinking about touching you all night,” he murmurs against my throat. “Watching you in that dress, knowing what’s underneath... It’s been torture,zayka.”
His fingers trace higher, skimming along my inner thigh until they brush against the lace of my panties. I inhale sharply.
“Already wet for me.” His voice is dark, satisfied. He strokes me through the thin fabric, and my hips buck involuntarily. “So responsive.”
“Please,” I whimper, not even sure what I’m asking for.
He pushes the lace aside and slides one finger through my slick folds. I moan, my head falling back against the seat. He circlesmy clit slowly, teasingly, building the tension with maddening patience.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, watching my face. “Let me hear you.”
He slips one finger inside me, and I gasp at the intrusion. He pumps slowly, his thumb still working that sensitive bundle of nerves, and I feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.
“Alexei, I’m going to—”
He withdraws his hand.
