I don’t know why, but I do exactly as he says. He presses a finger into my mouth. I wrapped my lips around his finger and take it into my mouth. I can taste the tang of blood from his fight, but more than that, the masculine taste of his sweat.
He murmurs approvingly, his eyes darkening as he stares at my lips, and pulls his finger from my mouth.
“Very good.”
I don’t know why those two words make me want to melt with pleasure. That can’t have been pleasurable for him. I don’t even know what that was. He nods to himself as though I’ve just confirmed something to him and places a hand on my waist.
Does that mean… finally, Leks is going to touch me?
“Natalia. You must have touched yourself here before.” He brushes his fingertips over the front of my nightdress, between my thighs.
It’s the gentlest pressure, but I crave more. A lot more.
I let out a shaky breath.
The truth is, I’ve explored myself down there. I know the folds of my flesh and the places where it feels good to touch. But I’ve never understood what exactly I was meant to be doing, how to make it happen.
I don’t have anyone I can talk to about things like that. And always, I would have this feeling of intense guilt which stopped me in my tracks whenever it started to feel good.
I shake my head, ashamed. “I didn’t know if I was supposed to. And I didn’t know how to make it feel good.”
He lets out a huff of air that’s almost like a laugh. “You don’t need permission for everything.”
I flush. I’m so inexperienced that my husband is laughing at me. He probably thinks I’m ridiculous, that I should have been able to figure out my own body.
Then I look up at him and Aleksandr’s face is alive with something like hunger. “Would you like me to show you?” His voice is soft.
I duck my head. I can’t look at him right now.
“I can help you.” He runs one hand over my hip with the lightest pressure, skimming over my curves, the thin fabric of my nightdress sliding up my thigh.
I think I’d rather keep my dignity than have him touch me like that, knowing that he was internally laughing at me.
“I can make it good for you.” His voice turns rough and deep, the fire in my stomach burning so intensely that it steals the air from my lungs.
When I look up at Leks, there’s a strange tension in his face. A straining, as though he’s using every muscle in his body to resist some urge. His lips are pressed together, his jaw tense, even his eyes are hooded and intense.
“Maybe,” I whisper. “I’ll think about it.”
That’s not a lie. I probably won’t be able to stop thinking about it.
It’s all I can give him.
Because while this fire inside me could easily turn into addiction, another part of me is frozen with ice-cold fear and confusion.
Ishouldn’twant this man to touch me. I don’t know if I’d be able to forgive myself.
16
NATALIA
The hum of a Bugatti motor drifts up to the loft on the breeze. A minute later, it’s followed by the unmistakable click of stilettos on the fire escape and the tap of lacquered red nails at the windowpane.
Vera. Thank goodness. All day, I’ve been fixated on my conversation with Leks, going over it in my head and wondering if there’s something wrong with me.
Finally, I can talk to someone who will know the answer. I pull open the window.
Vera drops lightly into the kitchen and pulls me into a one-armed hug that sends a wash of expensive perfume over me. Tonight’s outfit is wine-red vinyl pants that hug her slim hips, with a mesh crop top that flashes her pierced navel. Intricate silver chains of body-jewelry jangle all over her torso. On anyone else, it would be tacky, but Vera makes it look like a runway style.
