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“You’re going to wear yourself out.”

She glances at me, barely slowing. “That’s the idea.”

I push away from the door. “I have a better one.”

Matty’s eyes narrow.

“For getting rid of stress?”

“For making sure you don’t sleep tonight.”

A slow smile touches her mouth, and the next punch comes lighter. Just barely.

I’ve never wanted her more than I do in this moment. And I know by now that what I feel for her has grown far beyond wanting her body. She’s gotten under my skin and into my head. Somewhere much deeper than I ever intended to let anyone reach.

But tonight, I don’t care.

I cross the room, bare feet silent on the mats. She watches me come closer, her breathing already changing.

“Vasily.”

I stop in front of her. Her scent is everywhere: salt and brown sugar, sweat and leather.

“What?”

Her gaze drops briefly to my mouth.

“Tell me it’s a bad idea,” I murmur, stepping closer. Her body is like a light, throwing off heat, drawing me closer in a mindless path of destruction.

Slowly, her head shakes once. Twice.

I smile. “That’s what I thought.”

My hand settles against her waist, and she steps into me.

The rest of the world disappears.

Chapter 35

Matilda

“Get on your knees.”

The command freezes me. Not just because we’re in an almost two-thousand-square-foot gym that anyone could walk into at any moment, but because there’s a thrum under those words.

More than confidence. Trust.

Deeper than just desire. And, traitorously, I feel an answering pull in my body as Vasily stares me down with those dark, angular eyes.

“I’m…dirty,” I mumble, gaze darting to the double doors.

He doesn’t look away from me, but clearly knows what I’m worried about. Slipping his cell phone out of his pocket, he hits a speed dial code and holds it up to his ear.

“No one comes downstairs,” he says, hanging up the call just after I hear a muffled affirmation. With the cell back in his pocket, his hand brushes the front of his pants. They are looser than what he wore to court today, some kind of linen blend that does nothing to hide how hard he already is.

“Get on your knees,” he repeats.

I do. Readily.