22. Sofia
22
SOFIA
M y fingers trace along the marble countertop, watching the early morning light filter through the towering windows of Nikolai’s penthouse. My reflection stares back at me—hair tousled from last night’s activities, wearing only his white dress shirt.
“You’re thinking too hard, malishka .” Nikolai’s voice sends a shiver down my spine.
I turn to face him, crossing my arms. “This isn’t normal. You kidnapped me, and now we’re playing house?”
His alluring gray eyes darken as he marches toward me. “Is that what you believe?”
“I don’t know what to think.” I back away, but my body betrays me, heating under his predatory gaze. “Last night at dinner with your brothers, I acted like your girlfriend. Like this is all perfectly fine.”
“Because it is.” His hand catches my wrist, pulling me against his chest. “You belong by my side.”
I push against him. “That’s the problem. I’m starting to believe you.”
My breath catches as those lethal fingers tangle in my hair, forcing my head. “Then stop fighting it.”
“I can’t.” But my voice wavers as his lips brush my neck. “This is Stockholm syndrome or?—”
“No.” He bites down on my pulse point, making me gasp. “This is what’s always been between us. You’ve known it since I first walked into your gallery.”
My hands grip his shoulders, meaning to push him away but instead pull him closer. “Nikolai...”
His hand slides under the shirt, finding bare skin. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
I try to resist, to maintain some semblance of control, but my body arches into his touch. “I... I can’t.”
His growl of satisfaction vibrates against my throat. “Because you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”
And God help me, but I’m really starting to believe him.
I feel a surge of rebellion and wrench away from his grip, spinning to face him with my chin raised. “You can’t just decide these things for me. I’m not some possession you can lock away.”
“No?” His eyes flash dangerously. “Yet here you are, wearing my shirt, in my compound.”
“Because you drugged and kidnapped me!” I slam my palm against his chest. “I’m not your puppet, Nikolai.”
Instead of anger, a smile tugs at his lips. “There she is. My fierce little fighter.”
“Don’t patronize me.” But my breath catches as he cups my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip.
“Never.” His touch gentles, surprising me. “You challenge me in ways no one else dares. It’s what drew me to you.”
I try to maintain my glare, but something in his expression makes my heart stutter. “I hate how much I want you.”
“No, you don’t.” The gesture is startlingly gentle for a man like him—his forehead touching mine, sharing breath. “You hate how right this feels.”
I clutch his shirt. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re perfect.” He brushes a kiss across my temple. “Even when you’re fighting me.”
“Especially then?” I ask.
“Especially then.” His arms wrap around me, and I melt into him despite everything. “Though I prefer when you surrender.”
“That’s not surrender.” I tilt my head back, meeting his gaze. “It’s a choice.”
Something flickers in those steel-gray depths—vulnerability, perhaps. His grip tightens, possessive yet protective. “My clever girl.”
The praise sends warmth blooming through my chest.
His lips capture mine, and my protest dies in my throat. The kiss is different from his usual demanding ones—softer, questioning. My hands unclench from his shirt, sliding up to his shoulders as he pulls me closer.
“Let me show you,” he murmurs against my mouth.
My body responds before my mind can catch up, melting into him as his tongue traces my lower lip. I open for him with a sigh of surrender and relief. His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks as he deepens the kiss.
The gentleness undoes me more than his usual dominance. I taste his restraint and feel the tremor in his fingers as they thread through my hair. This isn’t the calculated seduction I’ve come to expect. It’s something else.
My fingers curl against the nape of his neck, drawing a low sound from his throat. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along my jaw, each touch a whispered promise. I tilt my head, giving him better access as warmth pools in my belly.
“Nikolai,” I breathe, and his arms tighten around me.
The kiss changes and grows deeper but maintains that devastating tenderness. His tongue strokes mine as his hands roam my back, pressing me closer until I can feel his heartbeat against my chest. It’s racing as fast as mine.
I shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t crave the way he makes me feel. But as his mouth moves over mine with exquisite care, I can’t remember why I was fighting it.
The sun streams into the sleek, modern kitchen, highlighting the granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Nikolai sets me on the island, his eyes holding mine captive as his fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt to graze my bare skin.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough with unspoken emotions.
I whimper as he kisses a trail along my jaw, down my neck. His touch is gentle, sending sparks dancing over my skin. He teases my senses, brushing his lips against my pulse point, his breath warm on my collarbone.
“Nikolai.” My fingers twist in his hair, holding him to me as his mouth skims lower. “What are you doing to me?”
He pulls back, his eyes burning into mine. “Loving you. Showing you how it could be.”
“Could be?” I repeat, my voice breathless.
He nods, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “If you’d let it.”
I swallow, my heart hammering in my chest. “I’m not good at letting go of control.”
A slow smile curves his lips. “Tonight, I’ll take control for you.”
His mouth claims mine, and my body flares to life. The kiss is deep and searching, demanding a response I can’t deny. My fingers tighten in his hair, and I moan as he slants his head, delving deeper. His tongue dances with mine, stoking the fire burning between us.
He breaks the kiss to nip at my lower lip, sending shivers through me. “You drive me mad , malishka .”
His hands glide over my thighs, pushing up the hem of the shirt, baring me to his gaze. My breath catches as he strokes my hips, his thumbs dipping beneath the elastic of my panties.
“Gorgeous.” His touch is reverent, his eyes dark with desire. “I want all of you.”
I bite my lip, my body thrumming with anticipation. “Take me, then.”
His growl reverberates through me as he hooks his fingers into my panties, tugging them down my legs. His gaze devours me, and I feel exposed, laid bare not just physically but emotionally. The vulnerability scares me, even as it pulls me closer to him.
He lifts me from the counter, urging my legs around his waist. I tighten my hold on his shoulders as he carries me a few steps, pressing me against the cool granite. The sudden change in position makes me gasp, and he takes advantage, claiming my mouth in a searing kiss.
His hands slide up my thighs, caressing my skin as he positions himself at my entrance. I whimper into his mouth as he teases me with the tip of his cock, rocking his hips in a slow, sensuous rhythm.
“Are you ready for me , malishka ?” he whispers against my lips.
I can only nod, my breath coming in short gasps as he slowly fills me. My muscles clench around him, and he stills, allowing me to adjust to his size. His fingers dig into my thighs, his eyes searching mine.
“Look at me,” he commands softly.
I meet his gaze, drowning in emotions swirling in the steel-gray depths.
“Tell me what you need.” His voice is hoarse, his eyes fixed on mine as he begins to move.
Each thrust is a plea. My hands frame his face, my thumbs tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones. “You,” I breathe. “I need you.”
His brows draw together as if confirming something he’d only suspected. “Say it again.”
The gentle command fuels my boldness, and I arch into him. “You. Always you.”
He claims my mouth, thrusting deeper as I meet his rhythm. I feel him everywhere, branded into my skin, seared into my soul. The euphoria builds, threatening to consume me.
His thumbs stroke my hips, and he thrusts harder, his eyes never leaving mine. “Only you, malishka . No one but you.”
His words unravel me, stripping away my defenses. My eyes close against the wave of emotion, but he tilts my chin with a gentle finger, his thumb brushing away the tears I didn’t realize had fallen.
“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers, his voice raw. “Let me see.”
I can’t speak, words failing me as my longing for this man overwhelms me. His expression softens, the hard edges of his face somehow weakening as he searches my eyes.
“Nikolai—” My voice breaks, and his thumb brushes my lip again.
“Shh, malishka . I’ve got you.” He kisses me then, not with the fevered desperation of our usual encounters but with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. He gently traces my mouth with reverent kisses, his beard scratching my skin.
I tangle my hands in his perfectly styled hair, clinging to his solid presence while my composed facade finally shatters. His kiss deepens, his hands moving over my back with a feather-light touch that sets my nerve endings alight.
He pulls back, his eyes searching my face, his thumb wiping away the tear that escapes. “You’re not the only one falling, moya lyubov .”
My breath hitches at the Russian endearment, the depth of emotion in his eyes stealing the last of my resistance. “Nikolai?—”
“Say it.” He presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm on my lips. “Tell me how I make you feel.”
I swallow, my heart in my throat. “You make me feel...” Beautiful. Desired. Loved. “Too much.”
He smiles, a soft, heartbreaking curve of his lips. “Then feel it with me.”
His hands slide to cup my backside, lifting me more firmly against him as he changes the angle of his thrusts. I grasp his shoulders as he finds that spot deep within me. He knows exactly how to move to drive me wild, his years of control and precision translating to this, the most intimate of dances.
He sets a ruthless pace, his eyes boring into mine as my gasps echo. I’m utterly exposed, my body his to command, and yet, I feel safe. Cherished.
His mouth finds mine, stealing my breath as he pushes me higher. I tangle my hands in his hair. He knows my body so well, knows how to drive me to the very edge before pulling back, drawing out the pleasure until I’m sobbing with need.
“Nikolai, please.” I don’t know what I’m begging for; I need more.
“I have you, malishka .” He thrusts harder, driving me closer to the precipice. “Come for me, moya krasavitsa .”
His command sends me spiraling over the edge. I cry out, my body arching off the countertop as euphoria washes over me. He covers my mouth with his to muffle my screams, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he chases his own release.
“Sofia,” he growls, his body tensing as he spills into me.
I gaze up into Nikolai’s steel-gray eyes as our breathing steadies, my heart still racing. His weight pins me to the counter, grounding me in this moment even as my thoughts spiral.
My fingers trace the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the contrast between his smooth skin and the rough stubble. How can this feel so right when everything about our situation is wrong?
He kidnapped me. Drugged me. Kept me under surveillance. The logical part of my brain screams to fight, run, and protect myself. Yet here I am, wrapped around him, craving his touch like I need it to breathe.
I close my eyes, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions. The anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface. But it’s mixed with something deeper that terrifies me more than his darkness ever could.
His forehead rests against mine, and I feel his breath ghost across my lips. The intimacy of the gesture makes my heart stutter. How did we get here? How did I let myself fall so deep?
My fingers curl against his chest, feeling his heartbeat match my erratic rhythm. The truth burns in my throat—I’m not just his captive anymore. I’m his willing prisoner, which scares me more than any cage he could build.