Chapter 13
When we reach the door of the little wooden shack, Vadim drops the branches and a smile crinkles his eyes at the corners. “Actually, these don’t have the leaves on, so they’re not right. I just thought it would be funny to worry you.”
I step inside the shed, and heat and the smell of pine hit me. As I pull off the beanie and shake out my curls, Vadim strips off his jacket. He reaches behind him to pull his sweatshirt and t-shirt off in one move, leaving his scars, tattoos, and acres of bronzed skin on display.
“There might be some dry twigs in the banya.” He looks at me questioningly. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”
“I don’t really know what I’m into. Not much experience to go on. But I’m into you.”
After shrugging off the heavy coat, I hand it to him. He hangs it up and sits on the bench, pulling off his shoes and socks. I stand before him, sweating inside my clothes as he sheds his jeans and reveals long, muscular legs dusted with hair. His skin still has the echoes of a summer tan, and the lines of swim trunks mark his upper thighs. I turn my head and face the pegs lining the wall.
“Shy?” Vadim comes to stand behind me, and his body heat overpowers the warm glow coming from the closed pine door of the sauna next to us. Leaving me my modesty, he stands behind me, and I hear a rustle of fabric as his boxers land on the floor.
“Very shy.” I drop my head and look at my feet as I toe off the wet snow boots. It’s like a game of strip poker where I could win with a poor hand because I’m wearing so many pairs of socks.
Sensing my nerves, Vadim crouches behind me and murmurs, “Put your hand on the wall for balance and give me your foot.”
I lift my leg and he peels away the sock layers from one foot and then the other. He reaches for the belt holding up my sweatpants and slowly undoes the buckle, his hands sliding beneath my waistline to caress the skin of my hips. His thumbs draw soothing circles, and there’s something erotic and sensual about being undressed by a man I can’t see.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I lift my arms so he can pull up my t-shirt and sweater to press a soft kiss against the base of my spine. He’s kneeling behind me naked as he removes my clothes, but he’s the one in control.
I press my hands into the pine wall, my fingers tracing the knots in the wood as he lowers the sweatpants and I step out of them. I’m not wearing panties, so I’m bare beneath all the layers of clothing. His hands stroke up and down my legs, tracing soft circles under the cheeks of my ass, but not demanding anything more. I’m melting like the snow dusting the clothes pooled on the floor.
He raises my shirt an inch higher and presses his lips against the base of my spine again. I sigh softly, aware that I’m bare from the waist down. His nose and forehead press against my lower back. He stops and rests his head against me, his hair tickling my skin as he allows me to get used to feeling this close to him. I widen my stance in invitation, but he pauses.
“You still with me, zolotaya?” he whispers through kisses against my back.
“Hmmm,” I sigh, a cocktail of nerves and excitement fizzing inside me.
I want him.
I want him so much I ache with it.
So I push the nerves down, knowing how little time we have. He must take my humming as consent for more because his hands slide up the sides of my body and slip around me to circle my breasts. Featherlight touches skirt the area where I most want his hands—and his mouth. I rise on my toes, widening my legs a little further.
“You look so fucking pretty like that. Bend a little lower, baby, and show me.”
I press my hands into the wall until I’m bent at ninety degrees.
His hands ghost around my breasts, stroking down my body until he reaches the delta of my thighs. He pushes my legs wider, and knowing I’m on display for a man I can’t see sends a gush of arousal to my molten core.
“Please,” I say as his hands stroke me gently from my thighs to my tits, avoiding all the good parts and making me crazy. “God, touch me please.”
The hypnotic movement of his hands continues. I bend lower, rising on my toes, turned on by the knowledge that he can see exactly what he’s doing to me.
“Keep still for me like a good girl, or I’ll have to beat you with those birch twigs,” he says as his hands finally cup my breasts, caressing and squeezing until he finds my nipples. He rubs and pulls on them gently. When he twists one, I moan. “Do you like that?”
His hair tickles my spine as his mouth brushes soft kisses against my vertebrae. I push against him, rocking back and forth and begging for more contact, for more anything. His hand drifts lower and slides into my folds, finding me soaked for him.
“Zolotaya. Is this all for me? You’re so wet,” he murmurs in that low, dark voice.
“God, yes, it’s for you,” I say. I push against him, wanting his fingers deeper inside me. Wanting his fingers everywhere. I want him to break me apart and put me together again.
He stands then, pulling the remaining clothes over my head and spinning me in his arms until we’re chest to stomach, his hard length pushing between us. He lifts me and pulls open the door to the sauna.
Once inside, he sits on a pine bench and deposits me in his lap. His hard, hot length presses against my thigh as I wrap my arms around his neck and trail soft kisses over every inch of him I can reach. He tastes of the woods—salt and pine resin. I kiss his collarbone but avoid meeting his eyes. A dark rumble vibrates his chest as he laughs and wraps his arms tighter around me, our skin slipping against each other in the heat.
He lifts me away and tilts me back so I can look up at him, and I fall into his pale-blue stare. “Shy again, zolotaya?”
I feel the words vibrate under his breastbone as much as I hear them.
“You’ve got nothing to be shy about. You’re fucking beautiful.”
He kisses me, lips sipping at me like he wants to savor the taste before his tongue slides into my mouth, making me drunk on him. I pull my arms tighter around him and dig my fingers into his scalp, drawing a moan from deep inside him.
Hot lips slide lower against my neck, and I arch against him as he finally reaches my nipple. Every time he sucks deeper or scrapes his teeth against the bud, he draws pulses of sunlight out of me. I buck against him and cry out as he bends me backward against his arm, mouth painting streaks of fire against my tits, sucking one nipple and then the other until I’m burning like the air around us.
“I love these little tits. So fucking perfect, the way they sit up and beg for my mouth,” he says, leaning down to devour me again as his other hand parts my legs and his finger thrusts deep inside me.
I’m wordless now, arching against him, bucking in his lap, riding his fingers as my whole body flames like a Catherine wheel. My core pulls tighter, and heat spins me into a dizzying whirl.
His dark voice curses in Russian before he says, “Fuck yes, ride my hand, zolotaya. Take what you want. Use me.”
These words push me over the edge, and my core squeezes his fingers as I open my mouth in a soundless cry. Tears seep between my lashes as his fingers stroke gently between my legs and his mouth meets mine in a soft kiss. I keep my eyes tightly closed as his mouth owns me and comforts me, his tongue stroking mine.
The taste of mint and pine rush to my head like vodka. His strong arms cradle me in his lap. I’ve never felt so cherished. Or so wiped out. Spent. Boneless. Still floating in the heat.
His voice pulls me out of my trance. “Hey, beautiful. Open your eyes.” That ice blue gaze shines down at me, his eyes warmer than I’ve ever seen them. “See? Nothing to be shy about.”
I trace his cheekbones in wonderment. The cut line of his jaw, the strong brow, the way a scar breaks through the line of one eyebrow and travels down his left cheek. The imperfection only serves to enhance his beauty.
“You told me to use you, when I...” My thoughts fade as I look down and press a kiss to his chest where beads of sweat roll between his pecs, skin glistening in the heat. I’m losing myself in his body as much as avoiding his eyes.
He puts his finger under my chin again. “Give me your eyes. You’ve got eyes like the woods in spring. I can see a whole season in them.”
His warm stare bathes me in something I haven’t felt from a man before.
Acceptance.
And it makes me suddenly brave.
“I don’t want to use you,” I say. “I want to give you everything. Everything you’ve given me. I want to give it all to you.”
“You will, zolotaya.” He smiles. “You will.”