Dmitry has not let go of my wrist. His grip is firm but not painful, his thumb brushing my pulse in slow, deliberate strokes that make it hard to breathe.
“Our date is going to be fun,” he says, his mouth curving into a slow, sinister smile.
I laugh softly, though my chest tightens at his tone. “You make it sound like a threat.”
“It is. I’m going to get my money’s worth.” He dips his head, pressing his mouth to my ear. “I’ll have your legs shaking, your pussy trembling and leaking by the time we’re done.”
A zap of electricity shoots through my nether regions. His dark, sensual promises will keep me up all night. I knew a date with Dmitry could never be PG-13. My body craves him way too much. All he’d have to do was brush my leg under the table andI’d be wet as a running faucet, begging for him to take me home and bury his cock inside me.
The corner of his mouth twitches as if he is holding back a real smile. The overhead lights catch in his dark hair, in the sharp lines of his face. He looks too perfect for this world, like marble brought to life.
“Thank you for bidding,” I say quietly. “It means a lot. The charity is close to my heart.”
He looks down at me, expression unreadable. “Why this charity?”
“My grandmother died of cancer,” I say. “She raised me for a while, after my mother left. I wanted to honor her, I guess. But before the auction, one of our items got ruined—a Burberry trench coat. It was supposed to bring in a lot of money. I didn’t want to disappoint the girls or go below the goal amount, so I volunteered myself instead.”
Something in his face shifts. The sharpness in his eyes softens. He looks at me differently now, like he understands.
“You should have said that earlier. I wouldn’t have been mad at you.”
I inhale. “You’re passionate about fighting cancer, too?”
“No, but I know what loss feels like,” he says.
My heart catches at the quiet in his voice. “You do?”
He nods once. “My parents died when I was very young. Car crash. I don’t remember much, only that after it happened, everything changed. I was born in Moscow. But my family moved to the United States after their death. We started a new life here.”
I do not know what to say. The sadness in his voice feels like something ancient, something that has been buried for years but never healed.
Without thinking, I move closer and wrap my arms around him. I pull him into my embrace, soft but not insistent.
He stiffens at first, but then his body relaxes. I feel the slow, steady rhythm of his heart beneath my cheek. I should not be touching him like this, not here, not in front of people, but I cannot stop myself. The sadness in his eyes is too much. All I want is to take it away.
“Do you miss them?” I whisper.
His voice is quiet when he answers. “I never knew them well enough to miss them. But sometimes it feels like there is a hole in my life. Something missing, something I cannot name.”
I rub his back gently. “Parental love?”
He exhales. “I don’t know. My older brother Leo stepped up to the plate after our parents were gone. He became my father before he even turned thirty. But I never had a mother figure. I never knew softness, compassion, empathy, or love. Nobody hugged me like this before. Leo is not the emotional type.”
That breaks my heart. I hug him tighter. “Then I’ll do it for you. I’ll give you a hug anytime you need one.”
He pulls back, his eyes softer but still shadowed. “Thank you,” he says quietly. Then his tone shifts, teasing. “But I came here to network, not be smothered by you.”
I frown. “Wow. That’s romantic.”
He gives a low laugh. “I’m joking.”
“Barely.”
He smiles again, and the world tilts a little. “Introduce me to the smartest frat guys here.”
I raise a brow. “Why?”
“Because I want to meet smart people.”
