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“My hands were respectfully on her shoulder and politely on her waist. It was a dance, not a damn mating ritual. I was trying to maintain a civil relationship with your daughter by not being mean to her friend.”

I snorted, staring straight out the window. “Looked like more than ‘polite’ to me.”

“Christ, Stas.” His grip loosened, thumb stroking the back of my neck, and I started arching into his touch before common sense returned. “Before I even agreed to dance with her, I told her there was someone else. She understood. That’s the only reason I said yes, because I knew she wouldn’t mistake it for more.”

Silence shut down my lungs.

Slowly, I turned my head enough to see him in my periphery.

“You… did?”

He leaned in until his chin rested on my shoulder, his breath warming the side of my throat. “Yes. So tell me. Why the hell are you so jealous? You’re a catch. Even if I fuck up and you kick me to the curb, you’d find another man in a heartbeat. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“There can be no other man,” I said before thinking.

His arms stilled.

Heat crawled up the back of my neck. Why the fuck had I said that? There was no truth to it. Yuriy Orlov was a man who fucked me a few days ago. I couldn’t feel strongly about him in such a short time.

I turned and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss that hit harder than any punch he’d ever thrown my way. His mouth opened under mine, eager, greedy, like he’d been waiting for me to snap.

“I don’t like this,” I muttered into his mouth.

He raised a brow. “Don’t like what?”

“You. Making me crazy with lust and… other things.”

“What other things?”

I kissed him again to shut him up.

He let me.

And for one stupid, perfect, terrifying moment, I didn’t want to stop. But this time he was the one pulling back.

“Stas, why are you so insecure? I’ve known you for a decade and have never seen this side of you before.”

I sighed, stubbing the cigarette out and flicking it into the snow below. “I haven’t dated much. Not everyone can be a fuckboy.”

My tone came out accusatory, but Yuriy rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to apologize for the fun times I had before you, but go on.”

Of course he shouldn’t have to. That jealousy again…

“I fell in love with Yelena’s mom, and we got married. I thought we were happy.”

Yuriy slipped his hand beneath my shirt, stroking my abs. “And?”

“When Yelena was two, I realized Moya wasn’t happy at all, and she was pretending.”

“How did you find out?”

“I overheard her talking on the phone to a friend.” I wiped a hand over my mouth as if it could help the bitter taste in my mouth. “She said a lot of things, but the part that stood out was that she was sorry she married me. She regretted believing my assets were enough to make up for…you know.”

Overhearing the phone call of the wife I adored had crushed me. Before Moya, I never had much confidence that I would have a lasting relationship. In my teens, I’d learned I was a lot less average than the other guys my age, and that kept me from dating much. When Moya showed interest in me and didn’t mind my size, I’d been over the moon. I’d showered her with gifts, given her everything she wanted, and it still hadn’t been enough.

“Turns out our marriage was only bearable because when I was away, she got the six extra inches I was lacking from the bodyguard I’d assigned to her.”

“Shit. That’s a bitch move.”