Chapter Twenty-One #4
His palm covered her breast, thumb moving over the sensitive peak until her body lifted instinctively toward him. Matvei watched the response and repeated it, firmer.
“Matvei.”
Russian left him beneath his breath.
He lowered his mouth.
Tessa threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him there while warmth gathered low in her body. His tongue moved slowly, learning her through repetition. When she shifted beneath him, his hand pressed against her hip to keep her close.
The pace remained unhurried.
That made it harder to endure.
Tessa pulled at his shoulders.
Matvei lifted his head.
“Too much?”
“No. Not enough.”
The words changed his expression.
He kissed her hard.
Tessa’s hands moved toward his belt. She had less difficulty with it than in Helsinki, though the buckle still struck the floor heavily when she pulled it free.
They both paused.
Matvei looked toward it.
Tessa laughed.
“Still a heavy belt.”
“Yes.”
He kissed the smile from her mouth.
Her fingers opened his trousers.
Matvei’s breath left him sharply when she reached inside and wrapped her hand around him. His forehead dropped toward her shoulder.
Tessa moved her hand slowly.
“Bozhe,” he muttered.
Her thumb passed over the head of him.
Matvei’s hips moved involuntarily into her hand.
The loss of control thrilled her.
He had been deliberate through dinner, the movie and every slow kiss on the couch. Now his fingers gripped the sheets beside her head as though he needed something solid.
“Tessa.”
“Yes?”
“Stop.”
Matvei caught her wrist.
His breathing had become uneven, eyes nearly black in the low light.
Tessa laughed softly.
Matvei reached toward the nightstand.
Tessa watched him open the drawer.
Protection rested inside.
Something about the preparation made her smile.
“You planned ahead.”
Matvei looked at her.
“You come date.”
“You assumed?”
“No.”
“But you bought condoms.”
“I am not stupid.”
“That is reassuring.”
He removed one.
Tessa took it from his hand.
Matvei went still.
She sat up and opened the wrapper, maintaining eye contact as she rolled it carefully over him.
His jaw tightened.
A Russian curse escaped.
“That sounded new,” Tessa said.
“Yes.”
“What does it mean?”
“Later.”
She stroked him once through the thin barrier.
Matvei’s hand closed around her hip.
“Now.”
He drew her toward the center of the bed.
Tessa expected him to lower her beneath him.
Instead, Matvei lay back and pulled her across his body.
She found herself straddling his hips.
For a second, neither moved.
His hands rested at her waist, warm and steady but making no attempt to control the next step.
“You want me on top?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The honesty sent a pulse through her.
Tessa positioned herself over him.
Matvei watched her, his body visibly tense beneath hers. When she lowered herself slowly onto him, his fingers tightened against her sides.
The stretch came gradually.
Tessa stopped halfway, breath catching.
Matvei’s eyes remained fixed on her face.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
“Sure?”
She nodded and lowered herself farther.
They both exhaled when he was fully inside her.
Tessa rested her hands against his chest.
The angle felt different, deeper in a way that made her body need several seconds to adjust. Matvei remained still beneath her, thumbs moving gently over her hips.
“Move when ready,” he said.
Tessa looked down at him.
His hair spread slightly against the pillow. His chest rose faster than the calm voice suggested. Every muscle beneath her hands felt tight with restraint.
She moved.
The first lift of her hips pulled a rough sound from him.
Tessa lowered again.
Matvei’s eyes closed.
Russian slipped from him.
She found the rhythm slowly, learning how to move above him without losing balance. His hands guided her only when she needed it, palms following the motion of her hips while allowing her to decide the pace.
The control affected her differently than being beneath him had.
She could watch every reaction.
The way his mouth opened when she sank fully onto him. The tension in his stomach when she rolled her hips instead of lifting. The small fracture in his restraint each time she moved faster.
Matvei opened his eyes.
“Beautiful,” he said.
Tessa’s rhythm faltered.
He lifted one hand and touched her breast, thumb moving across the peak while she continued above him.
The combination sent pleasure sharply through her.
She leaned forward, placing both hands beside his shoulders.
Matvei met her mouth.
The angle changed.
He reached deeper.
Tessa gasped.
His hands moved to her hips, holding her more firmly while she rocked against him. He still did not take over, but his body began answering from beneath, lifting into each movement.
The pace became less careful.
Their mouths separated as breathing made kissing impossible. Tessa’s hips moved faster.
“Matvei.”
His hand slid between them.
Tessa shuddered when his fingers found her.
The movement above him became harder to maintain. Her thighs tightened, body caught between the pressure inside her and the precise rhythm of his touch.
Matvei watched her face.
“Come,” he said quietly.
The command sent heat through her.
Tessa shook her head, overwhelmed enough to resist what she wanted.
Matvei’s thumb moved again.
“Come for me.”
Her body answered before thought could.
The tension broke suddenly, stronger from the position and the way he continued moving beneath her. Tessa cried out and dropped closer against his chest, every muscle tightening as pleasure moved through her.
Matvei held her through it.
Russian left him in a low stream against her mouth, words broken by his breathing.
Tessa was still trembling when he rolled them.
The shift happened carefully but quickly. One moment she was above him, the next her back met the mattress and Matvei settled between her legs without leaving her.
The new angle drew another sound from her.
He stopped.
“Too much?”
“No.”
Tessa wrapped her legs around him.
“Keep going.”
Matvei obeyed.
His first thrust was slow and deep, more controlled than the urgency in his face. Tessa gripped his shoulders as he withdrew and entered her again.
The rhythm built.
He supported himself on one forearm, the other hand beneath her thigh, lifting it higher against his side. Each movement reached somewhere sharper. Tessa’s body remained sensitive from the first release, pleasure bordering on too much before easing into something deeper.
Matvei kissed her neck.
His thrusts became harder.
The bed shifted beneath them, headboard meeting the wall with a quiet, repetitive sound neither acknowledged.
Tessa’s nails moved down his back.
Matvei swore.
She did it again.
His control broke.
He drove into her with a force that pulled a cry from her mouth, then immediately looked toward her face.
“Yes,” Tessa said before he could ask. “Again.”
Something raw entered his expression.
He repeated the movement.
The pace turned urgent, every careful pause from the living room gathering into the way he moved above her now. Tessa held him closer, one leg high around his hip and the other tightening behind him.
Matvei buried his mouth against her shoulder.
Her name came from him inside Russian words she could not translate.
She understood the need in it.
Tessa turned her face toward his ear.
“Let go.”
He lifted his head.
She touched the scar along his jaw.
“Matvei.”
His eyes closed.
The rhythm lost its final restraint. His hips drove against hers, movements becoming shorter and less controlled. Tessa felt the tension gather through his body, his shoulders rigid beneath her hands.
A broken curse left him.
Then her name.
Matvei came with his face pressed against her neck, body shuddering above hers while Tessa held him through it.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Their breathing filled the room.
Matvei lowered himself carefully beside her, one hand remaining at her waist as though releasing her completely was not an option.
Tessa turned toward him.
Sweat darkened his hair near his forehead. His chest rose rapidly.
She traced one finger down the center of it.
“So,” she said.
Matvei looked at her.
“Good date?”
His mouth moved.
“Yes.”
“Dinner was especially memorable.”
“Yes.”
“And the movie?”
“Bad.”
“You liked it.”
“No.”
“You were worried.”
“About journalism.”
Tessa laughed.
Matvei pulled her closer.
His arm settled beneath her head, and she rested against his chest. The room felt quieter than the hotel had afterward, not because the intimacy was less intense but because nothing outside it required either of them to leave immediately.
No team bus waited across the street.
No flight divided the morning.
Tessa listened to his heartbeat slow.
“I like your house,” she said.
Matvei’s hand moved along her back.
“Good.”
“It feels like you.”
“What means?”
She thought about the kitchen he had chosen, the books, the family photographs and the crooked shoes beneath the entry bench.
“Quiet. More comfortable than people expect. Slightly controlling about dish soap.”
Matvei frowned.
“I am not controlling.”
“You measured the soap.”
“You waste.”
Tessa smiled against his skin.
His hand traveled higher, fingers moving through her hair.
“You stay?” he asked.
The question came casually, but she felt the tension beneath it.
Tessa looked toward the clock.
It was not yet eleven. She had nowhere to be in the morning. No practice. No deadline. No legitimate reason to leave beyond the fear attached to staying.
“Yes,” she said.
Matvei’s arm tightened around her.
The satisfaction in the movement warmed her.
Tessa closed her eyes.
Downstairs, her coat hung beside his beneath the photograph of the Russian lake.
The watch remained on the dining table between two empty glasses.
For one night, neither belonged anywhere else.