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I should have gone with Akim. I should have gotten on that bike and ridden off into the night, as far away from Timofey as I could get. But here I am.
I want to give you everything.
“Shower,” I blurt.
Timofey places our glasses in the sink and turns around, eyebrow arched. “Pardon?”
“I mean, could I use your shower?” I ask, stumbling my way towards the socially normal way to ask that question. “Hospitals make me feel clammy and gross.”
He turns down the long hallway that leads towards the back of the house. “Follow me.”
“I can find it. You just point the way and I’ll figure it out.”
“I saw the shower at your apartment,” he says, looking back over his shoulder. “I highly doubt you’d figure mine out.”
I ignore the subtle dig and ask the obvious. “When were you in my shower?”
“You’re a heavy sleeper. Before I woke you up that night I broke in, I glanced around.”
He says it with the same ease someone else would say they perused someone’s bookshelves. Except he was doing it in the middle of the night while I was asleep, right before he came to threaten me into submission.
I’m not nearly as bothered by the thought of Timofey in my shower as I should be.
I shake my head. “I had no idea you were such a freak.”
He chuckles as he leads me through a pocket door into a dark room. Suddenly, he stops and spins around. I nearly crash into his chest, but he steadies me with a hand on my lower back. Instinctively, I bend, molding to his touch.
“Yes,” he rasps, “you did.”
Before I can catch my breath, Timofey sets me right and turns to flip on the light. Then my breath is stolen for an entirely new reason.
“Thisis your bathroom?” I gasp.
The room is wide with black marble floors and cream cabinets. A wooden vanity runs along the left wall with a framed mirror above it. But the showstopper is on the actual, literal stage at the back. Three black marble steps lead up to the largest tub I’ve ever seen.
“Is that a bathtub or a swimming pool?”
Timofey smirks. “Anything can be a swimming pool if you put your mind to it, I suppose. I call it an appropriate-sized tub.”
“Only if you need to lay out end to end in the bottom of it!” I yelp, gesturing to him. “This is massive, even for your ridiculous standards.”
He opens a panel in the wall and presses a series of buttons. Water begins flowing into the tub from half a dozen hidden faucets. “What if two people want to lay end to end in it?”
My face burns and it’s not from the steam rising off the surface of the water. I nod. “I guess if you… Well, if you have guests in the water with you, then you might need one this size.”
My shower head is barely tall enough for little old me to fit under it, let alone a fully grown man. But of course Timofey has a tub big enough for him and a harem of women. I don’t know why I’m surprised.
Jealousy I have no right to feel singes my already frayed nerves. I sit on the top step next to the tub and swirl my hand in the water. It’s the perfect temperature, and a vanilla scent fills the air.
“Well, I can definitely figure it out from here,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
Timofey’s massive silhouette lurks in my peripherals, but I refuse to look at him. I can’t. Not without hearing what he said in the elevator. I can’t look at him without wanting what I very much know I should not want.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree there,” he murmurs.
I snap my attention to him.
I want to give you everything.
