I make a sound of protest, my eyes flying open. “Why did you stop?”
He brings his glistening finger to his mouth and sucks it clean, his eyes never leaving mine. “Because when you come tonight, I want you underneath me.”
My entire body clenches at his words.
He pulls me against his side, his arm wrapped around me, and I can feel how hard he is through his trousers. His breathing is ragged, his body tense with restraint.
“We’re not doing this in a car,” he says, more to himself than to me. “Not your first time.”
“Alexei—”
“I meant what I said before.” He cups my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “You deserve better than a backseat. I’ve waited four years for you. I can wait ten more minutes.”
The drive feels like an eternity. Every nerve in my body is alight, aching for him to finish what he started.
***
When we finally step inside the mansion, he doesn’t give me time to think. He sweeps me into his arms and carries me up the stairs, his mouth devouring mine. By the time he lays me on his bed, I’m trembling—not from fear, but from the overwhelming need coursing through me.
He stands at the edge of the bed, staring down at me like I’m something precious. Something he wants to consume.
“Are you sure?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.” I reach for him, then hesitate as a question surfaces—one that’s been circling in the back of my mind for days. “Alexei...why have you waited so long?”
He goes still. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve been together for days now. In London, in the shower, you’ve touched me. I’ve touched you, but you’ve never...” I feel the blush creeping up my cheeks. “You always stop. Why?”
He sits on the edge of the bed, taking my hand in his. For a long moment, he just looks at our intertwined fingers.
“Because I didn’t want to rush you,” he says finally, his voice low. “I wanted you to be sure. To choose to stay with me first.” His jaw tightens. “Your first time should be your choice, Anya. Not something that happens in the heat of the moment. Not something you regret.”
My heart clenches. He’s been holding back—for me. All this time, despite how much he wanted me, he was waiting for me to choose him.
“Alexei.” I sit up, cupping his face in my hands so he has to look at me. “I’m sure. I choose you.” I hold his gaze, letting him see everything I feel. “I’ve always chosen you.”
Something shifts in his expression—relief, hunger, reverence, all tangled together. He kisses me, slow and deep, like he’s sealing a promise.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he murmurs against my lips. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
“I will.”
He stands and undresses slowly, letting me look my fill. His shirt falls away, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the sculpted ridges of his abdomen. When his hands move to his belt, my breath catches. He holds my gaze as he unfastens it, pushing his trousers and boxers down together.
My eyes widen. I’ve touched him before, felt the size of him in my hand, but this feels like something else entirely. He’s beautiful—and intimidating.
“We’ll go slow,” he says, reading my expression. “I promise.”
He joins me on the bed, his hands gentle as he peels away my dress, my bra, my panties. He takes his time, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he reveals. My shoulder. The swell of my breasts. The curve of my waist.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs against my stomach.
“I’m nervous,” I admit.
He lifts his head, his ice-blue eyes soft. “We can stop anytime.”
“No.” I thread my fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to stop. I want you, Alexei. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
