AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I should be back shortly,” Pasha says as he walks inside the closet. “I need to sign some contracts and check if Kostya made another mess with the orders. If it happens to take more than two hours, I’ll call you.”
I look down at the phone in my hand. He went out yesterday, saying he had an errand to run, and came back half an hour later with a white paper bag. Inside was a brand-new phone and a pair of headphones. He said those are in case I wanted to listen to music.
I leave the phone on the nightstand and walk across the bedroom, stopping at the closet threshold. Pasha is standing in front of the shelf on the left, rummaging through a stack of T-shirts. I let my gaze dart to the rack on the right side where dozens of his suits and dress shirts are hung in perfect color order, from black to light gray. Biting down on my lower lip, I enter and approach it. Slowly, I reach for the hanger with a charcoal gray suit. My hand shakes as I touch the elegant fabric, taking the garment off the loop.
“I think you should wear this today,” I say and turn around to face him.
Pasha’s eyes fix on the suit I’m holding to my chest and then move up until our gazes connect. “Baby . . . I don’t . . .”
“Please.” I extend my hand, offering the outfit to him. “It’s you. I would never be scared of you, Pasha.”
He regards me with concern in his eyes, but reaches out and takes the suit from me. I offer him a small smile and walk toward the far end of the rack where his shirts are hanging. I slide my fingers across the hangers until I reach one of the white shirts, then take it off and return to Pasha. He lays the suit on the shelf and takes the shirt from my hand.
He slowly puts the shirt on, his eyes glued to my face the whole time as if he’s waiting for me to freak out. I’m certain that if he spots even the slightest trace of fear on my face, he’ll have the shirt off in a second. But he won’t see it. He will always be my Pasha, no matter what he wears.
Once he has the shirt buttoned, he waits a few moments before reaching for the pants and putting them on. Finally, he grabs the jacket.
“Okay?” he asks.
I nod and smile. When he gets the jacket on, I reach out and straighten his lapels.
“One more thing,” I say and turn to open the drawer behind me.
A variety of silk neckties in multiple colors are rolled and stuffed in small compartments within the drawer. My eyes skim over them until I find one that’s the same shade as his suit. As I extend my hand to take it out, an image of me restrained on the bed flashes through my mind. My hand falters just above the tie. I push the memory away, replacing it with thoughts of Pasha. Pasha embracing me in bed, stroking my back. Pasha moving the cereal box closer to my hand, encouraging me to make a choice. Pasha carrying me safely home even though I was dirty and smeared in oil. Pasha washing my hair. Pasha kissing me. I wrap my fingers around the silky material, take the tie out, and turn around.
“Can I . . . can I put it on you?” I choke out.
He doesn’t say anything, just bends and cups my face in his palms. There’s a strange look in his eyes as they bore into mine—a mix of concern and wariness but there’s awe, too. And pride.
I drape the tie around his neck and begin making the knot, looping the wide part over the thin one. My fingers are trembling, and the fabric slips from my grasp. I take a deep breath, pick up the loose end, and resume my work. When I’m finally done, I let go of the tie and look up. That’s when I become aware that Pasha is still holding my face.
“You are the strongest person I know,” he says and presses his mouth to mine.
The kiss is gentle as if he’s afraid I’ll get scared. I might be broken, but what’s left of me is desperately in love with him. I don’t want him to hold back on me. I don’t want gentle. I want all of him. I fling my arms around his neck and jump, clinging to him as if he were a tree. His hold on me is instantaneous, supporting me while I pull down his face and bite his lip. Hard.
“I want you to make love to me,” I say into his mouth. “And I don’t want you to hold back.”
“Okay, mishka,” he says between kisses. They’re still delicate.
“Pasha.” I squeeze the hair at the back of his head. “No holding back. I need you not to hold back. Promise me.”
“Asya, baby, I don’t want to—”
I press my finger over his lips. “I don’t want to feel broken when I’m with you. So, I need you to treat me as if I’m not. Give me everything you have. Please. Promise me.”
Pasha’s arms tighten around my waist. “I promise,” he says and crushes his mouth to mine.
It’s a whirlwind of hard, fast kisses and bites. Clashing teeth and dueling tongues. We are a tangled mess of lips and limbs. He’s holding me so tightly pressed against his body that I’m certain no tidal force in the universe could tear us apart. And I’m marveling at every second of it.
A melody pops into my mind and plays in the background as we attack each other’s lips in a frenzy. “In the Hall of the Mountain King” by Grieg. My arms around his neck tighten. We don’t stop kissing as he carries me to the bedroom until we reach the bed.
“I need to take off my clothes,” he says into my mouth and lowers me to the bed.
I nod, reluctantly releasing my hold of him. He removes his jacket first and lets it fall to the floor. The tie is next. I see the concern in his eyes as he reaches for it. Leaning forward, I brush the back of my fingers down his cheek. “You promised.”
The tie falls down, too. His shirt and pants follow and, soon, he’s standing in front of me completely naked. My mountain king.
Getting closer I press my lips to his. “Now, please help me take off mine.”
