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The woman’s brow quirked and she looked Varushka over with barely concealed disdain. “I doubt it. Besides, the clothing we carry is for a more mature woman. I can see if we have anything appropriate, but she might be more comfortable shopping at our sister store downstairs.” The woman was staring at Varushka’s dress as though it was the most hideous thing she’d ever laid eyes on. Thankfully, the girl was oblivious to the woman’s scrutiny, and was browsing through a rack of dresses that might have been more appropriate for Konstantin’s baba.
He nodded, took Varushka’s elbow, and steered her out of that store and into the next.
“Hello, sir. Are you shopping for your wife?” The saleswoman smiled briefly at Varushka and looked back at Konstantin expectantly.
His mouth opened and closed, not sure how to respond to that.
“Are you going to help him pick something out for your mom?” the woman asked Varushka.
Konstantin blinked, then led Varushka out of the store without another word. He looked at the girl again, and realized that letting her put braids in her pretty red hair had been an error in judgment. It made her look even younger.
Fuck. Though her braids were probably a big reason for the error, he couldn’t deny it was a blow to his ego. Did he look that old? Old enough to have a teenage daughter? Maybe he needed to work out more.
He looked over at Varushka again. They were going to have to visit Everly later. For now, he pulled her to him, and undid her braids.
Varushka looked at him questioningly, and he grimaced. In Russian he explained, “That woman thought you were my daughter. No braids.” Her blue eyes widened and she laughed into her hand.
“You don’t look that old,” she teased. “Why would she think that?”
Impish little thing. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, and maybe swat her ass, but she wasn’t ready for anything that crazy. “I’m not even that close to thirty, but you definitely don’t look twenty-one. We need to fix that before I get arrested.”
She sighed and looked longingly at the level below them. “You’re going to tell me I’m not allowed to have shirts with cartoons on them, aren’t you?” She pouted up at him.
He smiled apologetically. “Maybe when you’re forty.”
She scrunched her nose at him, but didn’t complain.
“Okay. A few, but you can’t wear them when we go out together.”
The answering grin on her face warmed him even more. He’d never really been attracted to women who could be classified as adorable, but maybe he’d been choosing wrong all these years. Adorable was . . . adorable.
They stood too close, looking at each other. Again he had the urge to kiss her, but he didn’t. When it happened again, he wanted it to be her idea. The tension was there though. The attraction. It was a relief to know there was chemistry between them, even if neither of them was ready to act on it yet.
The girl didn’t seem to know what to do about her apparent attraction to him. It was the sweetest damn thing. She watched him like he was a rock star from her favorite band and couldn’t believe he was hanging out with her. What man wouldn’t like that kind of adoration from a pretty girl?
Before he gave in to the temptation to drag her into his arms, he led her down the hall. He sighed in relief when he found a store that looked more age-appropriate. The store attendant ignored them when they walked in, and Konstantin was grateful. He was done answering questions from nosy store clerks who made him feel like a dirty old man. He sure as hell wasn’t old.
He and Varushka sorted through the racks, and together they piled items into Konstantin’s arms until he couldn’t carry any more. He asked the attendant if Varushka could use the fitting room and got her set up in one. Konstantin settled on the couch just outside the rooms, knowing the process of trying it all on would take a while. He didn’t often shop with girls, but something about the prospect of seeing Varushka in new things, and picturing her getting changed on the other side of the door, intrigued him.
When she finally emerged, staring shyly at the floor again, he was relieved. With well-cut, quality clothing, she looked petite rather than childish.
“You were right. The clothes I have now aren’t right for America,” she said, grimacing. “At least I look like a city girl in this. Older too.”
“Very pretty,” he said, nodding his approval. The blue dress skimmed her thin frame, and with her hair loose around he
r shoulders she looked more adult. Ditching the clunky black shoes might help, too, if she was willing. “Turn.”
Head down and shoulders slumped, she turned in a circle.
The dominant part of his brain growled at him, wanting to touch her—to claim her. She was his, even if the details hadn’t been sorted out yet. His body had been denied a woman so long that it was getting impatient. He forced the urges back. Rushing things wouldn’t be good for her, and he was more protective than he was impatient.
“You don’t need to be so shy with me, Varushka. I’m going to be your husband.” He stood and went to her, lifting her chin, then correcting her posture, straightening her shoulders so she looked more confident. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. You don’t need to hide from anyone.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied in English.
She was so instinctually submissive with him that it was starting to make him squirrely. If she was receptive to kink at all they might be able to make a go of things. The potential made him smile.
“You don’t need to call me ‘sir’ in public,” he said teasingly. “You’re going to freak people out.”
