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I turn and stare at it and consider my options. If I disobey him, he’ll punish me. And while punishment might lead to something deep and dark and deliciously sexy…getting there won’t be.
I don’t ever sit still. This is a challenge for me.
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, allowing the air to fill my diaphragm. I do a quick mental assessment of my body. As usual in Mikhail’s stubbornly sexy presence, I’m definitely aroused. Sitting here naked enhances that. There’s something wanton and risqué about it. I swallow and try to focus myself.
Breathe.
Breathe.
A wave of hunger hits me, followed by a wave of nausea. I’m starving and need foodnow.
I focus on using all of my senses. The feel of the leather seat, warmed from Mikhail, against my naked legs. The scent of Mikhail that lingers in the air, the faintest whiff of pine. The smell of toast and something savory, making my mouth water.
The sound of a door opening and closing. I open my eyes and Mikhail walks in with a wooden tray of food.
“Ah. Very good, little hacker. You’ve earned your dinner.”
In the dark, I can’t tell if he’s teasing or not. Would he really deny me food? A spanking would be mild in comparison.
He walks with such elegant grace and strength, I sit and watch him, half-struck with admiration. Wordlessly, he walks toward me with the food.
“You may get up and come sit on the sofa,” he says with a nod toward it. “Join me here, please.”
He settles himself on the sofa and watches me as I uncross my legs and rise. The way his eyes rove over my body and he takes everything in makes me feel like aqueen.I stand tall, my shoulders back. I don’t miss the robe. It’s strange how comfortable it feels being naked when I know the only person who sees me loves my body.
I sit next to him and look at the tray he’s set on a small table. A few sandwiches wrapped in wax paper sit beside a small plate of cheese and crackers. Small, golden-brown pastry shells are nestled on a second plate, beside thick, pancake-like cakes.
“Wow, this looks amazing. And…interesting.” I give him a curious look.
“I’m not sure what you like to eat, and it would please me very much if my wife would join me in eating the traditional food of my homeland.”
Fortunately, I like a large variety of foods so I’m game to try Mother Russia’s spread. “Alright, then. Let’s give it a go. Can you tell me what they are?”
He points a fork to the pancake-like things first. “Syrniki. They’re like pancakes but made with cottage cheese. Breaded then fried.” Next, the golden pastries. “These are pirozhki.Pastries that can be savory or sweet, depending. These are savory, filled with potatoes, onions, and meat.”
“Interesting. Let’s go.”
I look to him and wait to see if I’ll be allowed to feed myself this time. He gives a subtle nod and looks pleased. I’m catching on.
I reach for the fork and cut a small wedge of the pancake first. It’s crispy on the outside with a crunchy breadcrumb edge, but the inside is mildly sweet and creamy. “Mmm. Delicious. Did you cook these? Right now?”
“I heated up the food I had staff leave us. I’m pleased you like it.”
The nod of approval and hint at a smile make my heart flip in my chest. The warning bells that were clanging to warn me of impending doom if I seek his approval are getting harder and harder to hear. I…I like pleasing him. It’s so rare that he isn’t scowling, I feel as if I’ve won a major battle. The wordsI’m pleaseddon’t often escape his lips.
Next up, I take a bite of the savory pirozhki. Flavors explode in my mouth. “Mmm,” I say involuntarily, reaching for another bite. “Mmm, these are delicious. I’ve never been much of a sweets person.”
“Me neither.” He joins me and we quickly polish off the food.
I sit back against the couch, my belly full. Finally, my eyes are sleepy again.
“Oh, God, I just realized I have my makeup?—”
I reach for my face. No, wait. He helped me clean up last night, didn’t he?
Did he?
“Everything alright?”
