Isurrender because there’s nowhere else left to go.
“I knew you’d be delicious,” Yuri murmurs against my ear, his voice rough silk.
He trails wet kisses down the side of my neck while his hands roam shamelessly up and down my body.
Touching.
Memorizing every inch of me. Kneading and squeezing without hesitation, without apology, as if I were always his, as if I belong to him.
“This is insane,” I manage.
But Yuri doesn’t let me fall prey to guilt or shame. He pins me against the cabinet, the porcelain sink pressing into my lower back, and he kisses me like there’s no tomorrow.
“Then don’t think,” he says, pressing me back until the counter catches my spine. His mouth finds mine again, demanding, relentless, the taste of coffee and heat coiling between us.
Our tongues clash, and I taste the hints of coffee and whiskey coming off him in tantalizing waves.
My top is the first to go, and for a moment, I feel awfully self-conscious.
I can’t help myself.
My body has always been too much. Too soft. Too full. I’ve spent years sucking in my stomach, choosing clothes that hide my hips, pretending I take up less space than I do. Now there is nowhere to hide.
“I… I don’t usually do this,” I insist, my cheeks flushed.
He looks at me like I am excess in the best possible way.
Yuri studies me, eyes dark with something that feels like reverence. “Astrid,” he says softly, breath hitching. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
With one swift move, he unclasps the front of my lace bra, and they’re free.
He smiles like the devil himself. “Fucking hell. You are the definition of sin. The moment I set my eyes on you, I knew I had to have you.”
Without hesitation, he lowers his head and kisses my right breast, taking his sweet time around the nipple.
His tongue draws wet circles before he wraps his lips around it and suckles hard.
“Oh, fuck,” I exhale sharply.
A thousand tiny lightning bolts spread through my ribcage, a ravishing storm unraveling as liquid heat pools between my legs.
“You’re so soft,” he marvels, fondling my breasts and teasing each nipple with equal and knee-melting attention to detail. Like my body was made to be touched this way.
Yuri stills and raises his head to look at me. “You’re a real woman. Look at these curves, dammit…”
He lifts my skirt up, revealing my chunky hips and thighs.
The parts I’ve spent years trying to shrink.
“Yuri…”
“You were designed for me, Astrid.”
He kisses me again, and I welcome him, my thoughts dissolving into a puddle of mindless arousal. His right hand moves downward while the left stays glued to my breast—as if I might slip from his firm grip altogether if he stops touching me.
My own hands go wild, feeling him up and down through his power suit.
I register the hard muscles, each chiseled to perfection underneath his shirt and jacket. I need to get rid of these, I tell myself, and proceed to undress him. Our mouths are busy devouring one another.
