He grabs his croissant like he didn’t just casually threaten murder and takes a bite without breaking eye contact with me.
Ooooookay then.I guess I got my answer.
I scratch my head, then pick up my muffin and take a bite. The sweet taste makes my mouth water and grounds me a little. We sit there for a while eating in comfortable silence.
It feels surreal to be out with him like this, not exactly a date, but it still feels like we’re doing something dangerous together. Something that could get us both in a lot of trouble if the wrong people saw us.
He grew up thinking this was shameful. I’ll be patient while he unlearns that lie.
I nudge my foot against his, and he looks up. His mouth twitches with what might almost be a smile.
Wincing,I climb the first step to my apartment. Going down was fine, but apparently going up is a whole different torture. Alexei’s hands are on my shoulders before I can take another breath.
“Let me carry you.”
I look up the flight of stairs, then back at him. “What?”
He scoops me up before I can protest. I wrap my arms around his neck, gasping at how easily he lifts me.
“Thank you. No one’s ever carried me like this before.”
“Good,” he says. “I plan to be the only one who gets to hold you like this.”
Being carried up to my own apartment by an unhinged Russian who won’t let me struggle up the stairs myself is weirdly … nice. I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.
I glance at his face. He’s not struggling at all, doesn’t even look tired. I’d probably throw my back out and drop him face-first if I tried this.
He sets me down gently when we reach my door. His hand’s already in his pocket, pulling out a key.
His key.To my apartment.
That he made without asking me.
I should say something. Should ask when the fuck he did that, why he thinks that’s acceptable, what other boundaries he’s planning to bulldoze through. But I don’t.
Who does things like that?
He opens the door, and I walk in. Then he’s on me. Instant. No space between us, his mouth against my neck, teeth scraping skin.
“Do you want to shower with me?” I ask while he works his way down my throat.
He hums against my pulse.
I’m taking that as a yes.
He shoves his tongue into my mouth and slams me into the wall, lifting me up. My ribs scream in protest, but I wrap my legs around him anyway, too lost in this to care about the pain. He carries me toward the bathroom.
Our mouths break long enough for him to strip me down, tossing my clothes onto the floor. His lips drag down my neck, across my chest, locking on my nipples.
He bites, sucks, licks, and my hands bury in his hair. I lean down and kiss the top of his head, can’t help it.
Then he rips his clothes off, and my mouth actually waters. His inked body is ridiculous—uncut cock hard and heavy.
My chest tightens seeing all of him bare.
He returns for my mouth, but I push back his head with my hands in his hair. He looks back at me, hungry, and just … stops.
I’m sure the last person who told him what to do ended up in a shallow grave somewhere.
