Chapter Five
Mila
Andrei’s apartment is nothing like I imagined.
I’d imagined a man like him would live in a fancy, cold house with harsh marble and stark glass.
But instead, the space feels…lived in. The floors are made of warm wood with soft lighting tucked into corners instead of glaring overhead fixtures.
The faint scent of something clean and masculine, like soap and spice, lingers in the air.
It’s open, yet controlled. Quietly comforting.
Like him.
My gaze drifts toward the kitchen, and that’s when I see the bouquet sitting on the island, simple but undeniably gorgeous. My steps falter, my heartbeat picking up.
“Oh,” I breathe. I stop in front of it, fingers hovering just above the petals. “These are beautiful.”
Andrei comes up behind me. I don’t hear him move, but I feel his presence, solid and steady at my back.
“Pick up the card,” he says in that gentle yet firm way of his.
I do, my fingers suddenly unsteady. The envelope is thick, expensive. Inside, the message is short.
For you.
—Andrei
That’s all.
My throat tightens. I turn to him without thinking, my emotions pressing too close to the surface, and I kiss him.
It’s soft, instinctive, my hands nervously clutching his chest. He responds immediately, his mouth warm and sure against mine, the kiss deepening just enough to make my pulse kick violently.
Then he pulls away and it takes everything in me not to pull him back to me. He slides his hands gently to my waist, holding me in place. Then he drops his forehead briefly against mine, his breath warm on my lips.
“Easy,” he murmurs. “We’ve got time.”
The words settle something inside me instead of stirring panic. I nod, cheeks warm, and he lets me go just enough to guide me around the island.
He rolls up his sleeves, forearms flexing as he opens the fridge and starts pulling things out with practiced ease.
“What are you doing?” I ask, watching him line ingredients up on the counter.
“We’re cooking,” he says calmly.
My stomach flips. “We’re cooking…together?”
“Yes. Pirozhki.”
I laugh nervously. “That’s a terrible idea. I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”
He turns, leaning his hip against the counter, eyes studying me in that focused way that always makes me feel seen.
“I’ve noticed you learn quickly.”
I blink at him in surprise. “You have?”
“You don’t repeat your mistakes,” he continues. “You adjust pretty quickly too.”
I stare at him with a mixture of awe and surprise—how is he so cold yet so warm? No one’s ever said such words to me before. Not like that. Not even my grandfather. He means well but he’s not a patient man—like many wealthy men.
Well, except Andrei.
“Let’s get to it,” Andrei says. Something in his tone leaves no room for argument.
I blush, pressing my lips together nervously. “Okay. But if I burn something—”
“I’ll handle it.”
He steps closer, his arms brushing mine lightly as he reaches up to grab a bowl from the cabinet. I bite down on my lower lip, barely holding myself back from shivering physically from the chill that rushes through my entire body.
God, he makes me feel so much…so much that I’ve never imagined possible.
I try to hold myself together as he shows me how to mix the dough but it’s nearly impossible to concentrate when all I can think about is those strong arms of his around me, his mouth on my most intimate place, driving me nuts and—
“You’re doing it wrong, solnishka,” he says gently, his voice interrupting my sinful thoughts. And before I can gather my wits around me, he steps behind me, his arms coming around and over mine, so he has me completely caged in.
My breath hitches, my heart stopping completely. I can barely think now, only feel…the warmth of his big hands as they move over mine…the bulging movements of his chest muscles against my back and the undeniable evidence of his arousal.
Oh, God.
He adjusts my grip, his chest pressing a little bit harder my back, his breath warm against my ear.
“Like this,” he murmurs, guiding the movement of my hand.
I follow his lead and soon, my movements get steadier. He whispers quiet words of praise in my ears and I find myself basking in the attention, standing a bit taller.
“Good,” he says. “You’re doing so well, solnishka.”
When the dough is set aside to rise, he moves on to the filling, and I watch, more relaxed now, even smiling when flour dusts my fingers.
He pours two glasses of wine and hands me one.
“We have time,” he says. “Before the dough’s ready.”
“For what?”
He takes my hand and leads me toward the couch.
“A movie.”
He turns on the television and lowers himself beside me, his thigh brushing mine in a way that makes me hot all over. His arm stretches along the back of the couch, not touching me, and somehow that makes it worse.
“What do you wanna watch?” he asks, then turns to look at me. The moment our gazes clash, I find myself getting lost in the smoldering intensity in his deep blue eyes. As if pulled by an external force, my body inclines toward him and before I can think better of it, I press my lips to his.
I feel his body tense but I squeeze my eyes shut and move my mouth against his. My heart is beating like crazy, my palms sweaty…if he pulls away right now, I would probably shave my hair and relocate to some remote part of Africa.
I don’t have to ponder long on that thought though because his arms come around my waist, pulling me closer with a throaty moan as he deepens the kiss.
His tongue slides past my lips into my mouth, stroking mine in long, sensuous licks.
The kiss is hard, hot, dirty and sweet all at once.
I cling onto him, my hands bunched in his shirt but suddenly that isn’t enough.
I want more…more than I can put into words.
So I slide my hands slowly up his chest, then loop them around his neck, pressing myself harder against him. He groans low in his chest, the sound vibrating straight through me.
I pull away to catch my breath but I don’t stop…I can’t. I find myself nipping his earlobe, trailing my fingers down his spine, and the muscles of his back.
He lays me back on the couch and stretches out beside me, his face inches from mine, his fingers slowly unbuttoning my blouse. “I want you, solnishka. But I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. Tell me to stop, and I will.”
A bolt of heat shoots through me, making me shiver. “Sir, I—”
“Call me by my name.”
“A-Andrei.”
“Again,” he murmurs, drawing off my blouse. His lips brush over mine, his knuckles sliding in slow circles over my bare belly. “Say it again.”
“Andrei,” I whisper breathlessly.
His gaze meets mine, his blue eyes dark. “I need to see you—all of you.”
I shiver at his words, my stomach twisting with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. Barely able to breathe, I watch as he finishes undressing me, removing my bra, then my skirt, tights, and panties, leaving me completely naked.
He lets out a gust of breath, his brows drawing together, his gaze moving over me from my breasts to the most private part of me like a caress, scorching my skin and making her nipples draw tight. “You are so beautiful, solnishka.”
With a moan, he lowers his mouth to my belly and scatters hot kisses over my skin, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire as he slowly works his way upward.
My breasts grow heavy, memories of how it felt to have his mouth on me making me impatient.
But when he reaches my breasts at last, he doesn’t kiss my nipples as I anticipated.
Instead he presses first his lips and then his cheek against my heartbeat, then he raises his head, his gaze meeting mine, the intensity in his eyes making my breath catch and my belly fill with heat.
“Mila…”
His lips come crashing down on mine in a deep, slow kiss that makes me feel like I’m melting from the inside out, his tongue claiming my mouth with skilled strokes.
One of his hands slides up my rib cage, his knuckles teasing the underside of one breast, before he takes the weight of it in his hand, cupping and plumping it, his thumb making lazy circles over my puckered nipple.
Then with a hungry groan, he drags his mouth from mine, lowers it to my nipple, and sucks.
I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders, pleasure surging through me in a liquid rush, making my inner muscles clench. “Andrei!”
He moves from one breast to the other and back again, teasing my nipples, tugging on them with his lips, flicking his tongue over their sensitive tips, until I’m out of breath, my body arching toward him, the ache inside me excruciating.
“Andrei, please…” I don’t know what I’m begging for but I know I need something only he can give.
He chuckles lightly, then takes my right hand, draws it downward, and presses it against me down there, his hand holding mine in place. “Tell me what you want, solnishka.”
“Touch me…” I moan breathlessly. “Please.”
“As you wish, baby,” he replies with a wicked grin.
He lets his fingers brush lightly through the light hair above my vagina, then ducks down and draws one of my nipples into his mouth and tugs slowly with his lips.
My fingers clench in his hair, my hips shifting as I instinctively try to find relief, but it’s no use. The ache only grows worse, gnawing somewhere deep in my core.
“God, Mila,” Andrei moans, his voice reverberating deliciously against my skin. “I could kiss your breasts all night long. You drive me insane.”
I shiver, more from the pulsing bulge in his pants than his words. He slides his hand between my thighs and cups me, pressing the heel of his hand against me in slow, deep circles.
I gasp, my hips giving an involuntary jerk, my thighs clutching tightly. I let go of his hair, sliding one hand over his back, my nails digging into his forearm as I hold on for dear life.
“Does that feel good, moya solnishka?”
“Oh, yes!” I answer on a breathy exhale, my eyes drifting close.
“Good.”