The words hit deeper than any kiss. My hands find his shoulders, fingers digging into the solid muscle beneath his jacket.
"You're mine now. And I worship what's mine."
His fingers find the bottom hem of my blouse, soft lavender silk that suddenly feels like armor I need to shed. The fabric whispers against my skin as he lifts it slowly, reverently.
Cool air kisses my shoulders, my stomach, but his eyes burn hotter than flame as they trace every inch he reveals. The blouse drops somewhere behind him, forgotten.
"Beautiful." The word rumbles from deep in his chest. His palms skim my ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts through the fine lace of my bra. "So fucking beautiful."
I arch into his touch, craving more contact, more everything. But Anton's hands are patient, methodical, mapping every curve.
His mouth finds the hollow of my throat, lips pressing soft kisses that make my pulse flutter wildly. He trails lower, across my collarbone, down to the swell of my breast just above the lace edge.
"I've imagined this all day," he murmurs against my skin, breath hot and humid. "I've imagined having you here like this."
His confession causes heat to seep low in my stomach. My fingers grab his hair, dark strands sliding like silk between my fingers. "What else did you imagine?"
A soft growl vibrates against my chest before he looks up, gray eyes molten with want. "Everything, Fee. I imagined everything."
His hands span my waist, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just below my ribs. Each touch sends electricity racing through my veins, making my breath come in short gasps.
The dining table's surface is cool against my back as Anton lays me down with the same care he'd use handling priceless art.
"You're still sore," he murmurs, fingers trailing down to rest at the waistband of my jeans. It's not a question.
I nod. The tenderness between my thighs is a constant reminder of how much I want him.
"Then I'll be careful." His voice drops to a thick whisper that makes my stomach drop. "But I'm not done worshipping you, Solnishko."
His hands work the button of my jeans, the zipper sliding down with a soft hiss. He peels the denim away slowly, his palms skimming my legs, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
The cool air strokes my skin, but his gaze burns hotter than any flame. He stands between my parted thighs, hands resting on my knees, drinking in the sight of me spread before him.
"Perfect," he breathes, voice rough with desire. "Absolutely perfect."
His thumbs trace small circles on the inside of my knees, gradually moving higher.
"Do you know what you do to me?" His hands slide up my thighs, fingers dancing along the edge of my lace panties. "How hard it is to think about anything but this? About you?"
I can't form words. My entire world has narrowed to his touch, his voice, the heat radiating from his body.
His fingers hook into the lace at my hips, drawing the fabric down my legs with agonizing slowness. The panties join my jeans somewhere on the floor.
"And this." His hands move to my back, fingertips tracing the clasp of my bra. The lace falls away, and his sharp intake of breath makes pride bloom in my chest.
"You're exquisite." His palms cup my breasts, thumbs brushing across the sensitive peaks.
His mouth follows his hands, lips pressing soft kisses across my collarbone before trailing lower. When he reaches the swell of my breast, his tongue darts out to taste my skin, and I arch beneath him with a soft gasp.
"I love that sound," he murmurs against my flesh.
His mouth closes over my nipple, tongue working the sensitive bud until I'm trembling beneath him.
"Anton," I breathe, fingers massaging the back of his skull.
"I know, baby." His voice is muffled against my breast. "I'll take care of you."
His hand slides between my thighs, thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves with unerring precision. The first touch makes me cry out, back bowing off the table.
