His eyes meet mine, and for a second, everything stills. The room. The noise outside. My thoughts.
Then he says, very quietly, “Because if I don’t give you the choice, I won’t trust myself.”
That lands in the center of my chest with more force than it should.
I cup his face without thinking, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. The tenderness of the gesture surprises both of us.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
His gaze drops to my mouth. “I know.”
Then he lifts me.
Not all the way, not this time. Just enough to sit me on the counter, spreading my thighs with his body as he steps between them. My dress rides up my hips, leaving me exposed to him in the brightest room imaginable, and the way he looks at me makes my pulse pound.
Like I’m gorgeous. Like I’m trouble. Like he could spend the whole night right here between my legs and still not be done.
He slides a hand under my thigh and urges me wider. “Look at you.”
I bite my lip.
“No,” he says. “Don’t hide from me now.”
His thumb pulls that lip free, and before I can answer he kisses me again, deep and hot and consuming. My hands go to his tie, loosening it further, dragging him closer as his fingers stroke into me once more.
I break the kiss with a gasp.
“Aleksei—”
He curls two fingers inside me, and my head tips back against the mirror.
“That’s it,” he says, voice rough with approval. “Say my name.”
I’m too gone to be embarrassed by how easily it comes. “Aleksei.”
He groans and thrusts his fingers deeper, his other hand closing over my knee to hold me open. “Again.”
I obey, because I can’t do anything else.
The rhythm builds fast. Too fast. I’m still sensitive from before, every touch sharper, more intense, and he knows it. He knows exactly how close I am because he watches my face like he’s memorizing every second of it.
“You feel so good,” he mutters, almost to himself. “So fucking good.”
My fingers clutch at his shirt, wrinkling the expensive fabric. “Please.”
His mouth brushes mine. “Please what?”
I glare at him through half-closed eyes. “You are not making me beg twice in one night.”
A startled laugh bursts out of him, real and low and devastatingly sexy.
Then he rewards me by rubbing his thumb over my clit at the exact same moment he thrusts into me again, and I lose the ability to be clever.
“Oh my God?—”
“That’s right,” he says. “Come for me again.”
The command shouldn’t work on me. It absolutely does.
