“Getting you a dress,” he said simply. “For tonight.”
“I have dresses—”
“Not like the ones in here.” He came around to open my door, offering his hand. “Let me spoil you, kukolka.”
The way he said it, low and warm, made my stomach flutter. I took his hand and let him lead me inside.
The boutique was hushed and beautiful, all cream walls and soft lighting. A woman in a sleek black dress greeted us like we were expected—because of course Dmitri had called ahead. Within minutes, I was surrounded by silk and satin, gowns in every shade of blue and silver and midnight.
I tried on dress after dress, stepping out of the fitting room each time to find Dmitri watching from a velvet chair, a glass of champagne in his hand. His eyes tracked every movement, growing darker with each new gown.
“That one’s nice,” he said of a silver number.
“Just nice?”
“You’d look beautiful in anything. Or nothing.” His voice dropped on the last word, and heat flooded my cheeks.
Then I found it. The dress.
Midnight-blue satin that caught the light like liquid. Off-the-shoulder, with a neckline that left my collarbones exposed. The bodice fit perfectly, and when I turned, the skirt moved in a gentle wave, the hidden slit giving my stride a quiet confidence.
I stepped out of the fitting room slowly, suddenly shy.
Dmitri went completely still.
He stared at me—not the careless kind of staring, but really looking. His eyes traced the lines of the dress, the low dip at the back, the way the fabric shaped me without shouting for attention.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling more beautiful than I ever had. “So…what do you think?”
He didn’t answer. He just rose from the chair and walked toward me, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving mine.
“Dmitri?”
He reached me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone.
“You’re stunning,” he said, his voice full of want. “So beautiful it hurts to look at you.”
My breath caught. “It’s just a dress—”
“It’s not the dress.” His other hand settled on my waist, drawing me closer. “It’s you. It’s always you.”
And then he kissed me—slow at first, savoring, but quickly growing hungrier. I melted into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as his tongue swept against mine.
When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
“We should stop,” I whispered, not meaning it at all. “The saleswoman—”
“Went to get accessories. She’ll be gone for a while.” His eyes glittered dangerously. “And there’s a lock on that fitting room door.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Dmitri...”
“Tell me to stop, and I will.” His lips brushed my ear, his voice dropping to a growl. “But I’ve been watching you try on dresses for the last hour, imagining peeling every single one off you. I’m barely holding on, beautiful.”
I should have said no. We were in public. Anyone could’ve heard us.
But the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing in the world—made me reckless.
“Don’t stop,” I breathed.
