Chapter 13
Kazimir
I should not still be standing here.
That is the first absolute truth that presents itself.
So I step just inside the threshold of Alyona’s room and shut the door quietly behind me. It feels like sealing my fate.
The sound far too final for something that was never supposed to happen at all. I told Liev I would not touch her. I told myself that restraint would be enough, that proximity without contact would not undo me. That having her, even just for pretend, would be enough to get her out of my system.
The room smells faintly of soap and steamy air. The awareness of her presence settles into me with immediate, dangerous clarity.
Aly stands near the edge of the rug, wrapped in the robe she pulled on too quickly.
The fabric does nothing to disguise the softness of her body or the curve of her hips.
She holds herself like she expects the world to judge her before she even speaks.
Her damp hair curls slightly at the ends, and the sight of it makes my jaw tighten.
I came here to reassure her.
That is the lie I allow myself to keep.
“You should be sleeping,” I say, my voice steady, although every instinct in me is alert and keyed in on her.
She lifts her chin stubbornly, but her arms are still wrapped around her body. “You came anyway.”
“I was making sure you were okay,” I reply.
She huffs a quiet, disbelieving laugh, but she doesn’t tell me to leave. That alone feels like permission I should not take.
The promise echoes in my head, clear and binding.
No touching. No intimacy.
I stay where I am, hands loose at my sides, deliberately keeping distance between us. She is watching me closely, but she looks uncertain and guarded. Something in my chest tightens knowing that she does not understand how much power she has standing there like this.
My fingers move restlessly, metal rings clanking together in the stillness.
“You think people don’t see you,” I say quietly, continuing the thread we left hanging earlier. “You think you move through the world unnoticed.”
Her mouth twists. “It’s the opposite problem, actually. I know exactly what people see.”
“You know what some men allow you to see,” I correct her. “That isn’t the same thing.”
Her eyes flicker as something uncertain passes through them. “You’re not helping.” Her arms wrap tighter, as if she wants to disappear from my sight.
But I’ll never stop looking at her.
“I’m not trying to comfort you,” I reply. “I’m trying to correct you.”
I step closer then, but it’s slow enough that Aly has time to retreat if she wants to. The fact that she doesn’t means she’s thinking about what could happen here too.
Between us.
No touching.
The space between us is charged and precarious, and I stop just short of touching her. My presence alone is enough to make her breath shift.
“You are going to be my fiancée,” I continue evenly. “People will look at you differently. They will assume things about you whether you invite it or not.”
Her gaze drifts away from mine, and I see the insecurity there. It’s raw and familiar. She looks just like she did the first night I watched her behind the bar. The first time I saw her step foot on solid ground when she came off my jet.
Something protective coils through me, sharp-edged and possessive.
“Look at me,” I demand.
She hesitates, then does.
“They’ll say things about me,” she says quietly. “About you being with someone like me.”
“I need you to understand something, Alyona. You are not to worry about anyone’s attention but mine.”
Her pulse jumps visibly in her throat.
“Sit,” I tell her.
I do not raise my voice, but the word carries weight, and I watch the moment she realizes she is obeying me without thought.
Alyona moves to the edge of the bed, perching there stiffly, eyes never leaving mine.
The robe rides up to her knees, revealing curvy calves, bare feet, and painted blue toenails.
I remain standing.
“You’re safe here,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean you’re invisible.”
She swallows. “You said you wouldn’t touch me.”
“I won’t. That doesn’t mean I won’t show you exactly what I want.”
Her breath stutters, and I know I have her full and unguarded attention now.
“Tell me,” I say calmly, “how many men tried to take you home from The Foundry?”
She blushes. “N—none.”
“That’s not true.” My tone is flat and angry, but when she flinches, I don’t feel bad. “I want the truth from you, Alyona.”
“Only…a few,” she breathes shakily. “I never…they weren’t anyone…”
“Good.”
That gets her. Her eyes snap back to mine, curiosity flaring. “Why?”
I allow myself to take one step closer. Just one.
“Because if anyone else touched you before this night, I would send Nika out and have him slit their throats.”
Her breath catches hard at that. It’s a small, betraying sound, and I see confusion ripple through her expression. It’s desire and defiance tangling together in a way that makes my restraint feel razor-thin. She licks her lips while her eyes dart around the room.
“You don’t have to worry about anything like that.”
Reaching out, I almost touch two fingers to her chin, but she raises her face instinctively, eyes meeting mine. There’s something about her words that makes my brows knit.
“What does that mean?”
Aly’s full lips purse, keeping a secret in. Everything in me wanted to press a thumb to the seam of her lips and force her to open her mouth. I want her to tell me everything.
Instead, I stand tall and stare down at her with the same look that has made men piss themselves in back alleys or under piers.
“What does that mean?”
Her eyes drop as she murmurs something. The words are too quiet, and I lower myself, knees hitting the floorboards softly.
“Repeat yourself.”
With her cheeks flushing red, Aly obeys. Good, a small voice in my head hisses in happiness, she’s pliant. She’s mine.
“I’m a virgin,” she whispers.
Heat flares through my chest and groin, and my cock jumps to attention. I take a long, slow breath through my nose.
Untouched.
Rocking back on my heels, I size her up, trying to decide where to start. Aly is trembling slightly, clutching her robe tightly to her chest.
“Undo it.”
She doesn’t move. I can’t do it for her. I can’t yank off the tie and expose her to the suddenly stifling air, but my jaw clenches and she notices.
“You’re not touching me,” she says, almost like she’s reminding herself.
“No,” I agree. “You’re touching yourself.”
The silence that follows is heavy and electric.
She shakes her head once. “You can’t—”
“I can,” I say calmly. “And you will.”
She looks at me like she wants to argue. But something else holds her in place, something dangerous, curious, and very alive. Alyona’s hands loosen around her midriff and fumble at the robe’s tie.
“Slow,” I instruct. “Don’t rush things that matter.”
She hesitates, then moves her fingers, curling them into the fabric of her robe. I have to lock my jaw to keep from leaning forward. The sight of her obeying me, following my direction while pretending she isn’t, sends a sharp pulse of heat through me again.
The tie comes undone. The robe falls away. Her full and heavy breasts spill out, and her nipples are already peaked despite the summer heat.
I say nothing for a long moment, letting the tension stretch until it hums.
“Look at you,” I say. “Still pretending you don’t affect anyone.”
Her breathing grows uneven.
“You think the men at The Foundry didn’t imagine this?” I continue, my voice low and deliberate. “You think they didn’t wonder what you’d look like if you shimmied out of those little skirts?”
Her head snaps up, eyes blazing. “Don’t.”
Jealousy burns hot and immediate, ugly and honest, and I do not bother hiding it. “They don’t get this,” I say. “They don’t get to see you like this. That belongs to me.”
She makes a small sound, torn between outrage and something else entirely.
My control tightens dangerously.
“Then listen to me,” I say, forcing steadiness back into my voice. “Every sensation. Every reaction. You don’t hide from it.”
I remain where I am, hands clenched by my thighs, the restraint costing me more with every breath.
“Take off the rest.”
Alyona moves quickly now, shucking off the robe and breathing fast. Arousal roils through me at the realization that she’s turned on just by this. Sweet little virgin. Imagine what I could do.
Focusing on the present, a smirk uncoils as she presses her thighs together. Hiding her pussy from me even as her breasts heave, and her skin rises with goosebumps.
“Get on the bed. No, get further back on the bed. No. Further.”
Finally, she’s where I want her—lying back, legs still pressed together, naked on the made bed. A lamp on the nightstand casts warm light over her skin. Aly quivers, clearly unsure what to do with her hands. With knitted brows, she looks up at me with wide eyes.
Almost trusting.
But not quite.
“You’re going to do what I say.” I move to the side of the bed so I can see her better.
I reach out, deftly grasping the chair that looks out the window over my property, and it scrapes loudly across the floorboards.
Aly flinches as I lower myself into it, trying not to rub my greedy hands on my legs in anticipation.
“Do you understand?”
She nods slowly. Unsure.
“First, I want you to touch your breasts.”
Her hands hesitate, then ghost up to her full chest, cupping her breasts. They spill over her palms, dark pink nipples making my mouth water. “Play with yourself. Pinch your nipples.”
She does, but so lightly that she only bites her lip.
“Harder.”
A sound of discomfort slips out. She’s in her head too much. She’s frowning, and not really looking at me but at my chest.
“No, not like that. I want it to hurt.”
The next time she rolls the hard buds between her fingers, Aly cries out. The sound is part pleasure, part pain, and she rises off the bed in surprise.