Chapter Four
Alexei
The first thing I register is the warmth of her soft body snuggled up against mine. Then the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the faint scent of her shampoo on the pillow.
For a long moment, I just lie there, letting the moment stretch. I’ve imagined this…too many nights to count, but imagination doesn’t compare to the real thing.
Anya shifts, a quiet sound leaving her throat as she nestles closer. Her hair spills across my arm, and I have the ridiculous thought that I could stay like this forever. But I know better than to trust peace. It never lasts.
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake her, and dress quickly before padding barefoot into the kitchen. The flat is small, with sunlight filtering through thin curtains, glinting off the polished counter. There’s a simple charm to it, like her.
I find eggs, bread, and coffee and start cooking. It’s mechanical, something to keep my hands busy while my head spins with what comes next.
By the time she walks into the kitchen, the smell of toast has filled the air. She stands in the doorway wearing my T-shirt, the hem riding high on her thighs, eyes still heavy with sleep. For a second, I forget how to breathe.
“Good morning,” she says, her voice husky with sleep. It's so damn sexy.
I hand her a mug of coffee. “Sit. Eat.”
She studies me across the table, quiet for a moment before she finally speaks. “You just made yourself at home, didn’t you?”
I shrug. “Seemed easier than waiting for an invitation.”
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile. We eat in companionable silence for a while. For the first time in a long time, I feel at peace.
“Pack a bag,” I say quietly, watching her expression. “We leave for New York tomorrow.”
Her fork stills. “You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
“Alexei…” She exhales, shaking her head. “You can’t just show up here after four years and expect me to follow you like nothing happened.”
I push my chair back and stand. “That’s not what I’m asking.”
She arches her brow. “No? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”
I cross over to her side and rest my hands on the back of her chair. “I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove that everything I said last night was real.”
She tilts her chin up defiantly, but I see hesitation flicker in her eyes. “And how long do you think that’ll take?”
“How long do you need?”
She bites her bottom lip, thinking. “Ten days. That’s how long I have before I have to accept one of the job offers.”
Ten days. I can work with that.
“Then I have ten days to change your mind.”
Before she can respond, I pull her up, her chair scraping softly against the tile. She lets out a breath as my body brushes hers.
“You’re impossible,” she mutters, but her fingers curl into my shirt.
“Maybe,” I murmur against her temple. “But I learn fast.”
Without giving her the chance to argue, I scoop her into my arms. She squeaks, half protesting, half laughing, as I carry her toward the bathroom.
“Alexei!”
“You said ten days,” I remind her. “If I only have that long, I’m starting now.”
I turn the shower knob and let the water run, testing it with my hand until steam begins to rise. She leans against the sink, watching me with that wary curiosity I’ve missed too damn much.
"Come here," I murmur.
She hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of my T-shirt. “Alexei, I've never…”
“I know.” I close the distance between us, cupping her face in my hands. “We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. I just want to be close to you.”
She exhales slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I want that too. I'm just...nervous.”
“Don't be.” I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. “It's just me, zayka.”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “That's exactly why I'm nervous.”
I chuckle and kiss her forehead, then step back. My hands go to the buttons of my shirt, unfastening them slowly, giving her time to adjust. Her eyes follow the movement, widening slightly as I shrug the fabric off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
Her cheeks flush pink, her gaze trailing down my chest before darting away.
“You can look,” I tell her quietly. “I want you to.”
She swallows hard, her eyes returning to me—shy but curious. When my hands move to my zipper, her breath catches audibly. I pause.
“Still okay?”
She nods, though her blush has deepened to crimson. I finish undressing, watching her reaction. Her lips part slightly, her eyes going wide as she takes me in. She looks almost...overwhelmed.
“Your turn,” I say gently. “But only if you want to.”
For a moment, she doesn't move. Then her hands find the hem of the T-shirt, and she pulls it over her head in one swift motion—like she's afraid she'll lose her nerve if she goes slowly. She stands before me in just her panties, arms instinctively crossing over her chest.
“No,” I murmur, stepping closer to gently guide her arms down. “Don't hide from me. You're beautiful, Anya.”
Her eyes glisten, vulnerable and trusting. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties, pausing to meet her gaze. She gives me a tiny nod, and I slide them down her legs.
Steam curls around us as I take her hand and lead her toward the shower. “Ready?”
“I think so,” she whispers.
When I step under the spray, I pull her in with me. The water slicks her hair to her shoulders, trails over her collarbone. She gasps softly at the heat, then relaxes as the water cascades over us both. I can't help but trace its path with my fingertips.
I reach for the soap and lather it between my hands, sliding them over her back, down her arms. She shivers– but not from the cold.
My hands move with purpose, learning her. Memorizing her. Every small sound she makes goes straight to my chest, heavy and hot.
After a moment, she reaches for the soap, her movements tentative.
“Let me,” she whispers.
I nod, voice too rough to answer.
She works in silence, washing the tension from my body, from the space between us. The air thickens with the scent of steam and skin. Her hands grow bolder, more curious, tracing the lines of my muscles, the planes of my stomach.
Then her eyes drop lower, and her hands slow. She holds my gaze as she slowly drops to her knees, water streaming down her back.
“What are you doing, zayka?” I ask, my voice gruff with a dark desire as I stare at her plum pink lips, so dangerously close to my cock.
She lowers her gaze to my hard cock, and swallows nervously, her cheeks flushing.
“I…” she trails off, running the tip of her tongue over her lips. Lust shoots through me, hot and consuming. “I want to touch you…like you touched me.”
“I'm all yours, zayka,” I mutter gruffly, my cock twitching in anticipation. “Do with me as you please.”
She swallows visibly, then reaches to caress my length in light, hesitant strokes.
I twitch beneath her curious fingers, and she looks up at me, her cheeks rosy, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and desire.
"You're so beautiful," she murmurs, almost reverently.
I moan softly in response. Overwhelming tenderness washes over me.
“You're killing me, zayka,” I murmur through gritted teeth, barely resisting the urge to pull her up, drive myself into her, and fuck her for the rest of the day.
She caresses me gently, trailing her fingers over my pulsing veins.
“Teach me how to pleasure you, Alexei,” she says, her voice husky with need. “Please…”
I close my eyes, muttering a string of swear words under my breath.
She has no idea what she does to me…
“Take me in your mouth,” I murmur, my voice gruff with hunger.
She nods, like an obedient student and leans forward to run her wet tongue over my tip. My whole body jerks in response, blood rushing to my head.
“More,” I command roughly, fisting a hand in her soft silky hair.
She lowers her head and sucks me between her lips, her fingers wrapping instinctively around the base.
“Now use your tongue.”
She swirls her tongue around my cock in one slow, torturous stroke. Then she comes back up and goes down again, deeper this time.
“Fuck.” My hand tightens in her hair, the muscles of my neck flexing from how much I'm holding back.
Anya concentrates on the bobbing movement of her head, stroking and sucking me like she knows exactly what drives me crazy.
I've been with more experienced women, sultry wanton vixens, and slow seductive lovers, but none compare to her. They don't even come close. She may be inexperienced and uncertain, but I've never wanted a woman more.
The sight of her kneeling at my feet, worshipping me with her tongue, is unbelievably arousing. Low, guttural moans escape my throat, my cock pulsing in her delicate hands.
The need for release starts to build, every muscle in my body drawing taut, and I almost hum with the intensity of my desire.
A soft moan escapes her throat, the sound vibrating around my cock. I combust at that moment, filling her mouth with my cum. She jerks backward, eyes wide with surprise, her mouth opening, so it dribbles from either her lips.
The sight is both endearing and fucking sexy.
“You can choose to swallow or spit it out, zayka,” I say, my voice tinted with amusement.
She hesitates, then swallows, her expression somewhere between curious and shy. She opens her eyes and smiles at me, and I swear the world tilts in that moment.
I pull her up and into my arms. Her body melts into mine, her heart thrumming widely against my chest.
I reach past her to adjust the water temperature, then run my hands through her hair and down the curve of her back to cup her perfectly rounded ass.
“You’re incredible,” I murmur. “What do you say I return the favor?”
A long time passes before we finally step out of the shower. I made sure to string out every last drop of pleasure from her. Hearing her cry my name as I tasted her was divine. Part of me wanted to stay there longer, but I had other plans—and a dwindling supply of hot water.
Anya smells of shampoo—something light and sensual. Her hair drips down her back, her skin flushed and dewy. I grab a towel and wrap it around her, drying her off slowly, deliberately.
“Get dressed,” I murmur against her temple, brushing a kiss there. “We’re going out.”
She blinks up at me, her expression half suspicious, half curious. “Out where?”
I grab another towel, run it over my hair, then wrap it around my waist. “Out there.”
She raises her brows, her eyes glinting with something playful. “That sounds like a very Alexei kind of answer—cryptic and bossy.”
“Maybe,” I say, reaching past her for her robe, sliding it over her shoulders. “But I want to spend time with you.”
As I turn away to find my clothes, she huffs a quiet laugh. “I don’t do well with orders, you know.”
“Oh, I think you do,” I say over my shoulder, and the blush that colors her cheeks tells me she remembers the shower just as vividly as I do.
She comes back out ten minutes later, dressed in a simple beige dress that clings to her curves in all the right places. Her hair has been dried and pulled into a loose knot.
“You look gorgeous, zayka,” I say, handing her a mug of coffee as I give her a once-over.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going, though.”
“I thought you could show me your London,” I say, buttoning my shirt. “The places that matter to you. The life you’ve built here.”
She blinks, clearly caught off guard. “You want to see my London?”
“I’ve only ever been to London for business,” I admit, stepping closer to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Meetings. Dinners. The occasional hotel bar.” I hold her gaze. “I want to see the city through your eyes.”
Her lips part slightly, and she lowers her mug. “You already know what my life’s been like,” she says quietly. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me all this time.”
Her words land like a blade—not sharp enough to wound, but enough to sting.
“Reading reports and seeing pictures isn’t the same thing,” I admit. “I want to know you, Anya. The woman you’ve become.”
For a long moment, she studies me, probably searching for a lie in my face. Then her shoulders soften. “Okay,” she says at last, “but on one condition.”
I tilt my head. “Which is?”
“Lunch with Bryant.”
My jaw flexes before I can stop it. “Bryant?”
“Yes.” She folds her arms, meeting my gaze evenly. “He’s been a good friend to me, and you’ll get to meet him properly this time. Besides, I still have his sheet music to return.”
I exhale through my nose, slow and measured. I don’t like it, but I can already see from the determined lift of her chin that this isn’t a battle worth fighting. “You want me to have lunch with your friend?”
She smirks. “Yes. And his boyfriend, if he’s free.”
My eyes narrow. “You said he was your boyfriend—”
Her lips twitch. “Don’t start.”
“Not starting anything,” I murmur, stepping close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look up at me. “Just…clarifying.”
She meets me, glare for glare, and that actually makes my heart skip.
“I won’t allow myself to be isolated again, Alexei,” she says, her voice softening. “The way Yuri treated his wives—I won’t live like that. I deserve to have a life and friends.”
The mention of Yuri slices through me. Every muscle in my body goes taut. She doesn’t know how deep that name cuts, or how often I’ve promised myself never to become the man who raised me.
I swallow hard, reach for her face, and cup her cheek with my palm. “You’re right,” I say quietly. “You do.”
Her eyes flicker, surprise breaking through her defenses.
I lower my head and kiss her slowly. There’s no heat this time, just me baring myself to her as best as I can.
“Call him. Set it up,” I whisper after pulling back.
She breaks out into a big smile that lights up her whole face. The sight hits me like sunlight after years underground.
She's so damn beautiful.
She turns away to grab her phone, her face bright with excitement as she starts typing. I watch her, a quiet vow forming in my chest: I’ll do right by her, no matter what it takes.
Even if I’m still keeping secrets.
Even if the truth could break everything that I’m trying to rebuild.
But not today. Today, I’ll give her London.
And ten days to fall in love with me all over again.