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“Not this one.” My voice comes out sharper than intended, my eyes wide with panic. “It’s personal.” I mumble, feeling my cheeks turn hot in embarrassment.

His eyebrow lifts, slowly, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Don’t worry, solnyshko.” There’s that word again.

Why does it sound so good from his lips?

Note to self: look it up later, he might be calling me a bitch in Russian for all I know.

“A little vibrator isn’t enough to scare me off.” He steps closer, his hands on the counter, blocking my exit from both sides and somehow, I don’t feel threatened.

His breath only an inch away and I can smell his after shave. Why is his proximity not bothering me?

“That’s the thing.” I loop my finger around his collar, pulling him closer than before, my lips almost touching his cheek. Almost.

I force him to lean forward. “It’s not little.”

His body stiffens only for a second before he picks me up in his arms. “It will be when you meet my dick.”

His one hand around my hips, the other holding the back of my neck firmly. He’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to kissing a man and no matter how badly I want him to do it, I cannot.

My body is burning with a pleasure I’ve never felt before, and the anticipation is killing me.

He’s staring in my eyes, searching for any signs of restraints. His eyes travel south stopping at my lips and I unconsciously lick them.

He hisses as if jealous of my own tongue.

He wants to take, I can see it in his eyes, he wants to take it so bad, almost as bad as I want to give it to him.

A different kind of heat blooms low in my stomach, his hands on my body making sure I stay right where I’m at.

I try to pull him closer by wrapping my legs around his waist only to hiss just as the insides of my thighs come in contact with his body, grazing my raw skin against his.

A bite my lip to suppress the whimper and his eyes track the movement, hungrily.

He leans forward, his nose pressing against my neck and he takes a big inhale.

“You don’t hate me.” He declares. “You hate yourself for wanting me.” And presses the smallest kiss on my shoulder.

It’s so impossibly soft that my throat tightens. I blink rapidly, willing the tears to stay where they belong.

“Can you put me down?” I whisper instead.

He hesitates before obeying, carrying me to the bed with careful, deliberate movements. My legs hang uselessly as he lowers me on to the mattress, gentler than I was expecting.

His gaze lingers on me, my neck, the skin poking through the neckline, my hands, searching, like he’s trying to read what my rigid body is trying to conceal.

“Did you eat something?” He asks and when I don’t bother replying, he sighs before pulling out his phone.

His fingers tap against the screen a few times while I study him. He’s dressed entirely in black, from head to toe, one hand occupied with his phone while the other rests on his hip

Despite the furrow of his brow, he’s…beautiful. A man has no business being this beautiful.

“Sergei? Why are you here?” I question, gaining quick control over my emotions.

“Because I couldn’t find you at the campus.” He doesn’t look up from the screen.

“You were looking for me?” I knit my brow in confusion. “Why?”

“I’m always looking for you.” He presses the lock button, slips his phone into his pocket, then leans forward to cup my cheek.