My feet move before my brain agrees, the silk of my dress whispering against the floor. I stop a step in front of him, staring at his collarbone instead of his eyes because if I look at him, I’ll combust.
His hands come up, slow, the heat of his damp skin brushing my shoulders as his fingers find the laces at my back. “You know what this dress does to me?” His voice is a low rasp as he tugs at the first knot, loosening it with an ease that feels unfair. “I’ve been thinking about ripping it off you since the second you put it on.”
My knees go weak.
The next tie comes undone. His knuckles graze along the line of my spine, leaving trails of goosebumps. “You stood there today, all perfect and pure,” he murmurs, “and all I could think about was how you belong to me now. No one else gets to see you like this.”
The laces keep unraveling under his skilled fingers, the silk loosening around me inch by inch. Each tug makes the dress slouch lower, and I hold my breath.
When the last tie falls slack, he slides his hands up, palms flat against my ribs beneath the loosened bodice. “Let go, Lily,” he says quietly, close to my ear.
I do.
The dress gives a soft sigh as it slides off my body, pooling at my feet in a circle of ruined silk and lace. I am suddenly bare in front of him, skin prickling in the cool air. I forgot—stupidly—that I never put a bra back on. And my underwear—well, he stole those hours ago.
His breath catches, sharp, reverent, like even he hadn’t been prepared for this. Then: “Fucking hell,Moya.My beautiful girl. Do you know what kind of madness you drive into me?”
I make the mistake of looking up, and I meet his gaze. Wet hair clings to his temples, the towel barely holding on, and those grey eyes lock on every inch of me like I’m something to worship and ruin all at once.
“You stand here,” he whispers, fingers brushing down my bare sides, “and you think I could ever sleep with you in another room?”
My chest rises and falls too quickly, and my hands fidget at my sides, not knowing where to be, how to stand. “Aleksandr?—”
He tilts his head, studying me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted to learn. “You’re mine. Even when you try to run, even when you try to hide behind a locked door or a corset. You’ll always be mine. Don’t hide from me, and I won’t hide from you.”
The towel at his hips shifts when he steps closer, until there’s nothing but heat and steam and the smell of him around me. His hands slide down to grip my hips, pulling me against him with a possessive growl. I can feel him—hard and insistent—pressing into me through the thin fabric of the towel.
“Oh!” I gasp, and he looks at me with warm grey eyes, the swell of his pupils makes my pussy quiver. “Alek, I um-”
“Don’t worry,Moya,” he whispers into the curve of my neck, his lips brushing over my skin like a promise. He pulls the last pins from my hair, one by one, until the curls tumble down my back in a rush of weightless heat. His other hand trails slowly up my side, deliberate, maddening, avoiding every place I ache for him most. “I won’t take you tonight.”
A helpless, quiet whimper leaves me before I can catch it. His thumb drags over the soft side of my breast as if testing me, then moves away, sliding down, curling around my hip like he’s keeping himself on a leash.
His mouth is warm as he speaks against my skin. “But when we are alone,” he murmurs, low and steady, “when there is no one for miles—I am going to take what’s mine, Moya.”
My breath comes out in shaky bursts. I can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything but stand there in nothing but my skin.
He pulls back enough for me to see his face, his damp hair sticking to his temples, water still tracing the hard lines of his shoulders and chest. “Are you going to let me?”
I can’t find my voice at first, but I manage, “Yes.”
“Use your manners,” he says softly, and the tone makes my whole body clench tight. “Yes what?”
I stare at him, wide-eyed, until something over his shoulder catches my attention—the modest mirror across the room. It shows a sliver of us: me, bare, trembling, and Aleksandr, all power and focus, his grey gaze cutting into me.
He notices where I’m looking. Slowly, his hand that has been trailing my side glides up, wraps firmly around my throat, tilting my chin back until there’s nowhere to look but at him in that mirror.
“Will you let me take what’s mine?” he asks again, his voice rougher now.
I lick my dry lips, the smallest motion, but his groan is deep and guttural, a sound I feel in my knees.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
And then he crushes his mouth to mine, a searing kiss that devours every thought I have left, stealing all the air from the room until there is only him.
11
LILY
