Marina
The Sphere is so loud and full of half-drunk idiots who keep bumping into me every time they order a new drink.
I'm so nervous. Sneaking out of the house to meet up with a complete stranger isn't like me.
My father usually doesn't let me out of the house without at least a driver and sometimes a bodyguard too.
But when Stepan messaged me and asked me to show up, it was too tempting.
Getting here was its own performance. I told my father I needed to start looking at dresses for the wedding, that Elira and I were going to browse some shops in the city center and grab dinner afterward, and he didn't question it.
The wedding is real to him—the most real thing in his life right now—and any sign that I'm participating willingly makes him happy.
Though, I can't be gone long because the dress shops close around eight and it’s already ten p.m. He'll start calling me to wonder where I am soon.
The music is deep and pulsing, a bass line that vibrates through the bar and up through my stool.
Bodies move on the dance floor beyond the bar area, lit in flashes of blue and purple and white.
I wish Elira were here to help keep me company and calm my nerves.
She helped me sneak out by giving me a ride to the city center, but after a quick cup of coffee, she was off to dump her boyfriend with plans to go home and binge television afterward.
I felt bad leaving her to grieve that on her own, especially knowing what I'm doing tonight, but I really don't want a tagalong for this.
I'm not sure what he has in mind, but Elira would ask too many questions I can't answer yet, and meeting up with Stepan is a really risky move, anyway.
The fewer witnesses to my stupidity, the better.
A man slides onto the stool next to me. He's in his late twenties, well-dressed, and he's wearing heavy cologne that doesn't smell that great. He leans his elbow on the bar and angles his body toward mine confidently. "Can I buy you another one?" he asks, nodding at my glass.
"Oh, no, thank you." I smile politely, flicking my eyes up at the door to see if Stepan is coming yet. This man is handsome, but he gives me the creeps. The way he looks at me is predatory, not comfortable at all.
"You sure? You look like you could use the company."
"I'm waiting for someone." My cheeks burn, but not in the good way. When I spoke with Stepan, they were hotter than the sun, but it warmed my whole body. This man makes me cringe and want to squirm away. And I can't even put a finger on why.
He looks at the empty stool on my other side, then back at me. "Doesn't look like they're here."
"He's on his way," I tell him, a little less politely this time, and the tone hits the target.
The man holds up both hands defensively and slides off the stool without another word.
I appreciate that. Some men take rejection as the opening line of a negotiation, and I don't have the energy for that.
I've not had the pleasure of refusing too many of them, but from what Elira has told me, some can be very arrogant.
I turn back to the bar and pick up my glass and finally see Stepan walk through the front entrance.
It's like the whole atmosphere of the room shifts around him.
He's wearing a dark jacket over a dark shirt with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the black tattoos scrawled on his arm plainly visible.
And the way he walks with his chin high and his chest out is different. He acts like he owns this space.
His eyes find me at the bar before he's halfway across the room and my pulse picks up.
I set my drink down because my hand's not entirely steady and I don't want him to see it shaking.
And the closer he gets, the higher my body temp rises.
God, he's so attractive. He puts all the men in this bar to shame.
The corner of his mouth pulls up into a flicker of a smile like the other night at the fights and he settles on the stool next to mine and signals the bartender without looking away from my face.
"What are you drinking, Marina?" I love the way he says my name, like it's poetry in motion.
And his tone is so pure it almost resonates, no rough edges or gravel to it.
"Vodka tonic," I mumble, momentarily distracted by how perfect he looks. I can't believe I'm here at a night club after sneaking out and a man at least ten years older than me is honestly taking interest in me. It feels so surreal after being so sheltered for so long.
He orders two and turns back to me, resting his forearm on the bar. "So," he says. "Marina, what do you think of the place?" He's such a gentleman too, not leaning in and being pushy, though my God, I'd love it if he were a little more forward. I'm here for an adventure, not a slow burn.
"It's uh... different," I say, smiling. I pick up my drink and sip it slowly to distract myself from the flurry of butterflies in my belly.
"You look nice. Did your uncle come tonight too?"
The compliment makes my cheeks burn. "God, I hope not." I laugh, snickering. "He'd ruin everything." Letting that comment slip makes my face hotter and my lips throb. He has no idea the things my body is doing. I don’t know why his attention is making me so flustered, but I love feeling this way.
Stepan doesn't respond, but I see the hint of a smile on his lips again, like he's pleased I'm so flustered that I can't keep my mouth shut. I don't know what went through his head when I said that, but I'm trying not to sound too desperate.
When the drinks arrive, he slides mine across the bar and I take it. It's a comfortable silence as I take a drink of the fresh glass and smile at him over the rim. When he sucks in a breath, my heart flutters, then he starts talking and it calms again.
"What kind of music do you listen to?" he asks, swirling his drink before taking a sip.
"Mostly pop. Some old Russian rock when I'm in the mood."
He makes a face. "Rock?"
I shove his arm. "Don't. Kino's untouchable." I grin at him, realizing maybe I'm more sheltered than other people my age, but he's enough older than me that he and I should have this in common.
"I didn't say anything." He's grinning now, his elbow on the bar, his body turned fully toward me. Our knees are almost touching.
"Your face said plenty." I pick up my glass and take a drink. "What do you listen to?"
"Whatever's on. I'm not picky."
"That's a non-answer." I like that he's a bit playful. I didn't gather that by his demeanor at the fights, but it's relaxing me.
"I like hip-hop, some electronic. Anything I can drive to." He tilts his head and narrows his eyes like he's thinking then blurts out, "If you could go anywhere tomorrow, where would you go?"
"Somewhere warm. I don't care where. A beach with no one on it and nothing to do." I take a huge gulp of the drink and feel the first drink beginning to warm my shoulders and neck.
"I've never left Russia," he says.
"That's a tragedy... Barcelona is beautiful this time of year." My body is fully relaxed, fully engaged in this conversation, and all I can think about is how much I am enjoying being with him. He is so much more interesting than Maksim, and easier to talk to too.
He shrugs one shoulder. "Haven't had a reason to yet." His eyes hold mine when he says it, and I feel the heat climb up my neck.
I look down at my glass. "What about you? If you could go anywhere."
"Saint Petersburg." He runs his thumb along the condensation on his glass.
"I worked the docks there one summer when I was younger.
It was a terrible job. I slept on a mattress on the floor in a tiny little apartment I shared with four other guys.
We ate nothing but bread and tinned fish for three months. "
"That sounds miserable."
"It was. But the city at four in the morning in June, when the sun hasn't risen yet and the light's coming off the river and there's nobody else on the street—" He stops and takes a drink. "I'd go back for that."
I don't think I made a conscious effort to lean in but I find myself straining to feel closer to him. Our knees touch now, and I find myself drawn to him. He finishes his drink, then reaches for mine, taking it from my hand.
"Dance with me," he says, standing, so I take his hand and let him coax me off my stool.
The dance floor's packed and the music thumps hard, the bass heavy enough that I can feel it in my chest. He pulls me in and his hand settles on the small of my back.
It's a fast song, so it's a bit provocative that he wants my body touching his from knees to shoulders.
I press against him because the crowd gives me no other option, but I want to anyway.
"It's packed," I say nervously.
"You're hot," he says into my ear, sending a ripple of electricity down my neck. Goosebumps rise on my arms and chest. I don't even know what to say in response, so I let him move me in beat to the music.
We move together as his knee slides between mine and his hand spreads across my lower back, pulling me closer.
When his leg pushes deeper, spreading my thighs until I’m practically riding him, I realize how turned on I am.
My hand splays on his chest as he grinds on me, moving his hips against mine in rhythm to the music, and I expect to feel his heart hammering.
But he's calm as can be, and his eyes are locked on my lips.
His hand moves to my hip, pulling me harder against his body.
I have to admit this is really intoxicating.
I have so many endorphins rushing through me right now, I could get addicted to this.
I tilt my head back and his lips graze the side of my jaw, barely touching me, and the sensation shoots through me so fast, my fingers curl into his shirt.
I feel more than hear a rumble in his chest, a groan or a moan that gets swallowed by the music before I hear him whisper in my ear, "Can I kiss you?" and it makes heat explode in my groin.
Instead of answering, I turn my head toward him and his lips capture mine.
The stubble of his beard scrapes on my jaw and over my lips while he devours my mouth, parting them to slide his tongue into my personal space.
And I’m just along for the ride as his hands slide down over the curve of my ass and squeeze.
He's so gentle, but so forceful, and I feel lost. I don't want him to stop, but I'm terrified of what's happening at the same time. I’m supposed to marry Maksim. If someone I know sees me here doing this with this man I barely know, what will my father say? What will Maksim say?
"You're a good kisser," he growls in my ear, and now his hips are pumping, colliding with my pelvis in beat to the music.
In the throng of bodies around me, I could almost convince myself it was someone else pushing me into him until I feel his hand slide up over the curve of my breast and brush my nipple. It makes me shudder.
All I can do is whimper and moan slightly as his eyes meet mine and his hand closes around my right breast, squeezing gently.
It's like he holds my gaze on purpose to make sure I’m okay with this, which is such a turn-on.
I am a thousand percent okay with this, I think.
I've never experienced attraction so intense or the feeling of arousal so powerful, it would make me do something so stupid.
Certainly never with the man I'm supposed to be marrying soon.
"Come with me," he says against my ear, and at this point, I'd do anything he asked me to.
Stepan takes my hand and leads me off the dance floor, through the crowd, into a side hallway where the music is muffled and the air is cooler, and there's nobody around except the two of us.
The walls are dark and the light from the main room flashes wildly, painting him in bursts of light that reveal the lust in his eyes.
When he turns to face me, I'm already leaning in. He cups my jaw with one hand and kisses me hard, making me whimper as his thumb traces the line of my jaw. His other hand is on my waist, pulling me against his body where I feel his dick so hard, it begs to be touched.
I stop thinking about my father and the wedding and Maksim and the six months I negotiated for myself.
All of it drops away and what's left is his mouth on mine and his hands on my body and the low sound he makes in his throat when I bite his lower lip.
It's so insane what I'm doing, so risky, but I don't want to stop.
This is the most alive I've felt in years.
Stepan pulls back breathing rougher than a moment ago, and he lets his thumb trace my lower lip. "Come home with me," he says, and every cell in my body is telling me to say yes.
But "I can't," comes out of my mouth in a reluctant whine.
My God, how badly I want to. My body is on fire and he is the water that can quench it, but if I do that, Papa will know something is up and I'll be put on lockdown forever.
I have a better chance of getting to see him again if I'm conservative.
"I can't be gone all night," I say. "People will notice. "
"People?" He doesn't pull away, but I see the shift in his eyes. He's discouraged, which is the last thing I want. I am not playing hard to get. I just can't take the risk tonight.
"My family. It's… complicated."
He nods, but he doesn't ask what that means or push for an explanation. He reads the boundary and he respects it, and that alone makes me want him even more. I slide my hand back up to his neck and pull him down for another kiss, this one gentler than before, and he smiles against my lips.
"Then I'll see you again," he says softly, letting his hands linger on me for a second.
"It's why I gave you my number," I whisper, feeling bolder now. Even when I have to say no, he still wants to pursue me. It's so fucking hot.
"Soon?" he asks, nipping my lower lip.
"Yes," I promise, letting my pelvis grind against his briefly, and he's still rock hard. What the hell am I thinking?
He kisses me one more time, then he steps back.
The distance between us feels cold and wrong, and I have to stop myself from reaching for him.
I really can't go back to his place no matter how badly I want to, so I let him back away, watching me with that sly grin, and wait until he's gone before I slam my head against the wall behind me a few times.
Papa will kill me.
Elira will want every fucking detail.
And Maksim... Well, if he finds out, he may not want to marry me anymore, but I really want to see Stepan again, and I really want to figure out how I can say yes the next time he asks me if I can go home with him.