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He smirks at me and moves closer. His face is just inches from mine, so close I can feel his breath on my face.
“I can prove it,” he says cockily.
I’m sure he’s going to lean in for a kiss, but instead, he stands up, grabs his plate, and walks out of the dining room, leaving me confused. That’s the second time he’s left me high and dry, and I don’t like it one bit.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Ivan
Kat doesn’t trust me yet, which I suppose is understandable. She’s never been given any freedom in her life, and every good thing has come with strings attached. It’s up to me to show her I have no strings attached to my offer. I just want her to be happy. I’ve claimed her as my own, and now I have to show her what that truly means.
It means she can have whatever she wants, whenever she wants it. She won’t believe me until I show her, though. Last night at dinner, she was sure I couldn’t be offering her something good without wanting something in return. Tonight, I have to prove to her that I only want what’s best for her.
I knock on her door late in the afternoon and see that she’s been lounging in bed, watching TV. I smile to myself. She seems like a kid in a candy store with all this free time. Eventually, she’ll need to feel like she can leave the apartment and use her time for herself. We can explore Manhattan together.
“What do you want?” she asks warily, and I chuckle at her apprehension.
I walk into the room, pleased to see she’s made it her own. She’s getting more comfortable here, which is a good sign. Soon enough, she’ll want to move all of her things into my room. One thing at a time, though.
I walk into her closet and take in the vast array of clothing that’s hanging up. My staff did an excellent job. In the back of the closet is a section full of pretty dresses. I walk straight back to them and pick one. It’s black and slinky and will hug her irresistible curves perfectly. I bring it back out to her and hold it out for her inspection.
Her eyes go wide as she takes it in.
“What do you think of this dress?” I ask her.
She eyes it with a gleam in her eye, and I can tell the idea of putting it on excites her.
“It’s pretty,” she says simply, masking her true feelings.
“Well, I think you should wear it tonight,” I tell her.
“What’s tonight?” she asks curiously, taking the dress from me and holding it against her body.
“I’m taking you on a proper date.” I smile. “So get dressed up and meet me downstairs at six.”
I turn on my heel and walk out, leaving her to her own devices.
At six o’clock on the dot, I’m standing in the entryway when I hear her descend the stairs. In addition to the dress, she’s put on a pair of strappy heels that make her legs look a million miles long. She is sex on a stick, no longer looking like the innocent, virginal bride but a vixen ready to pounce.
It’s all I can do not to go to her and claim her right on the spot. The staff has gone home for the night. No one would bother us. But I have to do this the right way. By the end of our date, she will willingly give herself over to me, and it will be so much sweeter.
I hold my arm out for her and escort her to the elevator. As we walk out on the busy street, I consider this is probably the first time she’s left the penthouse since she arrived. She takes a deep breath and steadies herself, as if she’s going off to war. Hopefully, tonight will be much more pleasant.
We get in the limo, which drives us to the other side of the park. I’ve arranged for us to have a private table at one of the most beautiful restaurants in Central Park. As we pull up, her eyes grow wide, taking in the twinkling lights and the romantic ambiance.
“Is this okay?” I ask her.
She looks at me with wide eyes and smiles, nodding slowly. She’s at a loss for words, which is exactly what I’d hoped for. I get out of the limo and open the door for her, escorting her up to the restaurant. We sit down at our table, and she orders very little.
Again, I find myself curious about her life before. Was she allowed to eat out at restaurants? Was she allowed to order what she wanted, or did she have one of those strict Russian mothers who watched every bite? I watch her eat now, but not because I care about her caloric intake. I’m mesmerized by the way her lips cover the fork, and I think about how her lips would feel wrapped around my cock.
All in good time, I remind myself.
She moans in pleasure at every bite, and I have to consciously adjust myself several times. She’s driving me crazy, and I know she isn’t doing it on purpose. She’s simply enjoying the simple pleasures in life that she’s been denied all these years, and watching her experience these things is such a huge turn-on.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. She simply drips sensuality, drawing me to her effortlessly. She doesn’t know the effect she has on me, but she will soon.
When she’s finished torturing me with the sensual way she eats, I grab her hand and walk her outside where we enjoy the night air. She takes in everything around her as if it’s all brand new. For all I know, it is for her. I’m swept up in her joy and her wonder, and I can’t help but grab her around her waist and dip her into a long, meaningful kiss.
