He shut the door behind her and pointed at a bench between rows of lockers. “Sit.”
She thought it best to do as he said instead of arguing about his bossiness.
He paced. She watched his muscles flex. He wore nothing more than shorts and tennis shoes. He’d come outside after her without bothering to put a shirt on. Sweat still ran off his chest and down his back, even though it had been cold outside.
She thought about speaking but decided against it.
Ivan ran a hand through his dark hair. Finally, he stopped and faced her, hands dropping to his waist, feet planted wide. “First of all, I did not mention a word about this morning to your brother. It seems to have been a coincidence that he confronted me about you today.
“He wanted to know what my intentions were, and he wanted to warn me that he would hunt me down and kill me if I hurt you. Which is exactly what I would do in his shoes.”
She crossed her legs and gripped the sides of the bench with her fingers curled around the edge.
“Abram was out of line.”
She nodded.
“But he’s right. My game is off. I can’t concentrate because you’re consuming my thoughts. And I’m not talking about this morning. I’m talking about all the time.”
She swallowed. All the time?
“Should I let something happen between us? Probably not. How much longer could I have avoided it? Probably days. Not weeks. After this morning, hours, maybe minutes.”
She flinched. What was he saying? She couldn’t sit still. So she stood, swinging her legs around until she was behind the bench against the lockers. Putting another six inches of space between them.
He stalked forward slowly. When he reached the other side of the bench, he leaned in, set his hands against the lockers on both sides of her head, and met her gaze. Inches separated their faces. “I need to finish my workout. I need you to go back out there and sit your sweet ass on a chair next to Haley and wait for me. I need you to stop worrying about this morning and fretting over my reaction.
“I said you were sexy as shit, and I meant it. The image of your delectable body is burned in my brain. We will figure this out. We will move at a pace I choose. And I will address some of your concerns later today. We clear?”
She nodded.
He closed the gap between them to kiss her lips. Gently. Soothingly. His eyes on hers. “Thank you,” he muttered as he righted himself, shoving off the lockers. “I need another hour.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
He turned around, opened the door, and swung his hand through the space to indicate she should pass.
She ducked under his arm and headed back to her seat, barely able to keep her chin up and her gaze pasted to Haley.
When she eased herself onto the chair, Haley cringed. “How’d that go?”
“Not good. Not bad.”
Abram wasted no time slipping into the chair next to her and slumping back against the wall, facing the gym, not looking directly at her. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I was out of line. I heard those two arguing about you, and then Ivan spent the next hour on his back getting his ass kicked, and I…I shouldn’t have brought that to your feet. It’s not your problem.”
“They were arguing about me?” She angled her head toward Abram.
He glanced her way, his expression strained. “I should probably keep my big mouth shut. Ivan’s shooting daggers my way just for sitting here.”
“You should probably tell me what they were arguing about, and then we’ll call it even.” She forced a small smile.
Haley chuckled next to her.
Abram blew out a breath. “Just posturing. You know. Guy shit. ‘You better not hurt my sister.’ That sort of thing.”
She grinned then. Her brother. Looking out for her. It was nice, in a way. As long as he stopped right there. His job was done.
Chapter Six
Ivan stepped out of the bathroom two hours later to find Alena sitting on the couch, her hands tucked under her thighs. He’d put on jeans and a plain white tee, but he was still rubbing a towel through his hair. When he draped it over the back of the couch, he met her gaze.
She lowered hers, jerking it toward the floor in front of her.
He frowned. What was that about?
He rounded the couch and sat next to her. “You okay?”
She nodded but didn’t lift her gaze.
He set his finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Look at me.”
She swallowed, biting the inside of her cheek.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’d rather not.”
He smiled. “Do it anyway?”
“I’m thinking maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t be what you need. Maybe you’ll grow bored of me after you find out I’m not submissive.”
Shit.
“Alena, please let me worry about what I need. I could never grow bored of you. Ever. It’s not possible.” He shouldn’t have implied this morning that she wasn’t enough for him. It had been rude. And inaccurate. Did he date submissive women? Always. But that was before Alena. Could Alena be submissive? Probably. But if she wasn’t or couldn’t, the reality was he had to admit it wouldn’t be a deal breaker. Not with her. Not ever.
“I could never ask you to give up your need to control a woman. It’s who you are. It’s in your blood.”
“Who said anything about giving it up?”
“I’ve read about this. Researched it. I’m not stupid. I know what you like.”
“Do you?”
She shrugged.
It was fucking cute.
“I studied submissives. They keep their head down, their gaze to the floor, their hands behind their back. They address their Dom as Sir. They kneel in front of him. They cook and clean and worship him. I don’t think I can do that. I can try. But I think I’ll disappoint you.”
“What happened to the woman who dropped her towel this morning and put herself out there for me totally naked?”
“She remembered who you were inside and what she was asking you to give up for her.” Her eyes were wet with tears.
Ivan’s chest tightened. He leaned forward and brushed his thumb under one eye to catch the moisture. “That is what D/s looks like to some people. True. But it’s not some sort of rule. D/s is whatever both parties want it to be. It’s fluid. Negotiable. It doesn’t need to be defined.
“And I’ve never been a ‘yes, Sir’ kind of Dom. Don’t really care for the title. Never had a woman kneel in front of me at my demand, either. And certainly no one has cooked or cleaned. I’m not about that. Besides,” he chuckled, “you’ve been cooking and cleaning up after me since I moved in.”
She rolled her eyes.
“The point is, I’m not an ass. And I’m not asking you to perform in any particular sort of way. Please forget everything you read and let me worry about it. I don’t want you stressing over some preconceived notion that I need you to bow before me and kiss my feet. I don’t.”
“Okay.” Her voice was low.
He glanced around. “Have you heard from Sergei today?”
“No.”
He released her chin to pull his phone out of his pocket and shoot off a quick text to his friend. The last thing he wanted was for Sergei to walk in on them. The chances of any of the other guys showing up were slim. Mikhail was super clear about things between Ivan and Alena. Leo was with Katie at the clinic most of the time. Nikolav hadn’t left Belinda’s side since he met her.
That left Sergei. The only loose cannon. And that cannon wasn’t very loose anymore. After all, the man hadn’t come home since Friday afternoon. About two hours after he bought a car and borrowed the keys to the apartment Ivan hadn’t been back to for more than a few minutes at a time since he arrived in Chicago and leased it.
What were the chances Sergei planned to walk through the door to this apartment on a Sunday afternoon?
Seconds later, a
new text pinged.
Ivan glanced down at his phone.
Not coming back today. Unless you need me?
Ivan shot back another text. Nope. Just making sure you’re good. No problems with the apartment?
None. It’s…very sunsetish.
Ivan chuckled.
“What’s funny?”
“Sergei. He’s staying at my apartment. The décor is unusual. It was furnished. Whoever designed it had a sunset fetish. Every inch of the place has some sort of sunset motif.”
She smiled. “Maybe you’ll take me there sometime.”
He leaned in closer, forcing her to lean back against the arm of the couch. “Maybe.”
“What do you think Sergei’s up to? It’s not like him to be gone like this.”
“A woman.”
She nodded. “I get that much. He’s…Sergei. But he’s also not stupid. Now isn’t a good time to be shacking up with a woman.”
Ivan agreed. But there was something more going on with Sergei. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there all the same. When Sergei asked for the keys to Ivan’s apartment, he’d been serious. He had a secret. Ivan trusted him, so he hadn’t pushed for more information. Sergei would share more when he was ready. And frankly, Ivan was extremely glad he wasn’t in the apartment this evening. He was done talking and closed the gap. “Let’s try that kiss again.”
She licked her lips, and he settled his on hers.
Yeah.
Home.
Perfect.
His cock stiffened at the simple touch.
Alena was hesitant, as he expected her to be. She was innocent and sweet and adorable. And he would do everything in his power to preserve that aspect of her because he adored it.
He licked the seam of her lips, nibbling around the corners. “Open for me.”
She let her lips fall apart.
He slid his tongue inside, tasting her, remembering every second of their earlier kiss. He set his hands down at her sides, pressing her farther into the arm of the couch. It was a giant sectional. Black leather. Comfortable. Inviting. They were using less than a fraction of it.
When a whimper escaped her lips and she grabbed his biceps with both hands, he eased off her mouth to stare into her glassy eyes. “You still mad at me?”
She shook her head, biting her top lip.
He lifted a brow. And then he sat upright, hauling her by the arms to sit beside him. When he twisted around to face her more fully, he set one arm along the back of the couch behind her and used the other to brush her silky blonde hair away from her face.
He needed to say some things. “I know you’re attracted to me. I’ve known it a long time. But I also know it’s impossible for you to know what you want when you have so little experience with men. If I do something you don’t like, speak up. If I don’t do something you would like, speak up. If you need to talk to me about anything at any time, please do.
“Communication is the key to any relationship. I get that you’re shy, but you need to set that aside for us to even consider a relationship. It’s never going to work if you don’t talk to me.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Okay,” she repeated hesitantly.
“Have you been with a man before?”
She bit that top lip again. “No, but…”
He smiled, setting a finger on her lips to silence her. “That’s all I needed to know. I figured. But I wanted to be sure.”
“It doesn’t change anything. I’m twenty-eight years old.”
“Oh, baby. It changes everything. And I don’t care how old you are.”
She remained still, but her gaze lowered.
“In a good way, Alena. I’m humbled. Honored even. If you sleep with me, it will be a precious gift I’ll cherish my entire life.” He might need about a dozen cold showers in the near future, but he would live through this.
She leaned her head back against his arm. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous for a woman my age. And I’d appreciate it if you just got it over with so we could move on.”
He lifted his brows. “Got it over with?”
“Yeah. Please.” She lifted her face to his. “Ivan, I’m in knots. I want you to make love to me. I don’t care how you want to do it. Whatever you normally do is fine. Just do it. I can’t stand the anticipation.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. He dipped his forehead and chuckled hard.
She threaded her finger in his hair. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” He pulled it back together and faced her. “Not gonna happen like that, babe. Sorry.”
“Ugh. Why the hell not? Wouldn’t it be easier? Quicker? Less dramatic? I really don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
It was difficult to keep from laughing even harder. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” And then he stood, leaving her guessing while he headed for the kitchen. “First, we’re going to have a nice dinner.”
“Dinner?” she asked as if the concept was foreign.
“Yeah.” He glanced over his shoulder to find her sitting up straight, rigid. Shock on her face. “You know, the meal people eat in the evening to nourish themselves.”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” she grumbled, hoisting herself off the couch and following him.
He could feel her presence at his back.
“I just don’t see why we need to eat right now. Can’t we do it after?”
“After what?” he teased.
“After we, you know…”
“After we kiss? We just did kiss. Now I’m famished. Aren’t you?”
She narrowed her gaze at him and cocked a hip. “You’re totally making fun of me.”
He winked at her as he spun around, grabbed her by the waist, and set her on the counter. “Laughing with you, not at you.”
“Not sure I see the difference.”
They’d assumed these positions in the kitchen several times in the last few months. He’d pretended he wanted to learn to cook, and she’d sat on the counter and directed him around to do so.
What he’d really wanted was her undivided attention and glorious smile while he did her bidding. It made him happy. It was the only piece of her he’d allowed himself to have.
“How about spaghetti?” he asked.
She pouted.
Adorable.
Why had he ever thought it would be a bad idea to sleep with her? It was obvious to him now that teaching her everything he knew about sex was going to be the most enjoyable experience of his life. And he intended to savor every second of it. Starting with dinner.
“Ivan…”
“Yeah?” He grabbed the sauce and the thin spaghetti noodles from the pantry and kicked it closed. He was pretty sure they had ground beef in the fridge.
She didn’t respond.
He opened the fridge and found not only the meat, but also a bag of salad and a loaf of French bread. After carting it all to the counter next to her ass, he dropped the contents of his arms and turned to face her. “Tell me what to do.”
It never occurred to him before why he did this. But it struck him differently tonight. He wanted her to direct him around. Control the meal. Interesting… Was it his way of giving her a taste of what he intended to do when they shut the bedroom door and the tables were turned? Maybe.
“Ivan,” she warned. “You know how to make spaghetti.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, forcing them up higher on her chest.
He slowly stepped into her space, leaned his torso against her knees, and took her hands. When he’d pried them away from her body, he set them on her thighs, palms up. “That’s better. Don’t move. Just direct.”
Her gaze widened. “What?” She glanced down at her palms and visibly shivered.
Yes. That’s what he wanted. To keep her guessing.
“Pretend I’ve never made spaghetti before and talk me through it.” He slid his hands up her arms until he reached her nec
kline, and then he dipped one finger into the V of her blouse, tracing the edge of the material.
When he released her, the sigh she didn’t know she made reached straight to his cock.
Oh, yeah.
He pretended she didn’t affect him and lifted the hamburger off the counter. “Start with this?”
She stared at him, her hands shaking in her lap.
He bent his knees a bit to meet her gaze full on. “Alena?”
“What?”
“This is going to take forever if you don’t help.”
She blinked and dropped her eyes to the package in his hand. “Yeah. Put that in a pan. But Ivan…”
He set a finger on her lips, silencing her before he stepped toward the stove. “Spaghetti, Alena. Concentrate.”
He could hear her breathing, heavily.
He was totally going to teach her about D/s while she directed him to make dinner. And she would never even realize it.
Her shoulders fell. “Brown the ground beef.” She relented.
He tore the package open and put it in a pan. “High? Medium? Low?”
“Medium.” She sounded exasperated, but resigned.
“Add the sauce now?”
“No.” Her voice was monotone. “Not until after the meat is cooked and you drain the fat.”
“And the pasta?”
“Ivan,” she shouted, “this is crazy.”
“What’s crazy? Dinner?”
“Stop it.”
He filled another pan with water and set it on the stove with the burner on way too low. If she wanted to eat in this century, she was going to have to point that out.
She glared at him.
Ivan stepped into her space again, hoping to lure her into his way of thinking. He met her gaze and held it while he lifted both hands to her blouse and unbuttoned the top button. The material slid open enough for him to see the lace edge of her navy bra.
She gasped.
Progress.
“You’re going to have to turn up the flame under the water,” she stated without looking.
He smiled. “That’s my girl.” When he turned around, he twisted the dial to a more reasonable setting and then grabbed a spoon to stir the ground beef.
This continued. Now that she had caught on to the game, she stopped frowning and grinned. Every time she gave a direction, he slipped another button through its hole on her shirt.
Thrust Page 6
