The moment he stepped in behind me, my body reacted before I could think. His hands slid slowly over my hips. One touch and I forgot how to wash. He leaned in, his chest warming my back.
Water spilled from above, soaking us both. His jaw brushed my cheek, freshly shaved. But I couldn’t focus when his hand slipped lower, fingers stroking my pussy where the memory of last night still lingered.
He touched me with maddening ease, his fingers gliding up and down. When he pulled away, I thought it was over.. But he let the water run over his palm and pressed it between my folds, cleaning me. He didn’t just clean me, no, he explored, his touch slow and devastating.
My knees wobbled, and I leaned into him, my head resting against his chest. I didn’t stop him. I let him touch me like he already owned every part of me. And maybe he did.
His fingers teased again, circling my entrance but never pushing in. Instead, he found my clit and stroked gently. His lips brushed my earlobe, his warm breath chasing a shiver down my spine.
I parted my lips and closed my eyes, breathing fast. I tilted my face toward his, searching blindly for his mouth, but he didn’t kiss me. He kept rubbing, letting me chase his jaw with my lips while I crumbled under his touch.
His hips shifted forward, and his hard cock pressed against me. A moan slipped out, but I bit my lips to stay grounded. I reached down, needing to hold something—anything.
But he caught my hand and placed it over my breast, his hand guiding mine until I massaged myself. His fingers kept circling below, pushing me further until my legs shook. I couldn’t hold itanymore.
Pleasure rushed through me, silencing everything but the broken whimper I couldn’t contain. My legs buckled, but he caught me, holding me until I found air again.
The world finally slowed. He held me until I caught my breath. Once the tremor faded, he started rinsing me. His fingers combed through my hair, washing the strands while I cleaned my face in silence.
A low rumble from outside broke the silence, and my hand froze mid-motion. I turned to Rodion, who looked completely at ease. “I think someone is here.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Finish up,” he said. “We are going out.”
Out? I hated going out after an intimate moment.
Did he change his mind? He stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist. Water slid down his spine as he walked to the door. I watched him, my eyes tracing the strong cut of his shoulders and the lean muscle down his back.
Sensing my eyes on him, he turned and caught my gaze. “You’ll eat breakfast out,” he said, answering the question I hadn’t asked.
“No more Leonid, right?” I asked.
He stayed silent for a moment, then gave a single nod. “I have business, and I can’t leave you alone here.”
Nodding, I rubbed my arms. “Okay.”
He reached for the knob. “I’ll bring you a towel,” he said and stepped out.
Only then did I notice there wasn’t another towel in the room. Warmth bloomed low in my belly, and I hoped it would stay.
After the shower, I dressed quickly, leaving the memory of his touch clinging to my skin. By the time we stepped out, the sun had already begun to climb.
The car was quiet as he drove, but not in the strained way it used to be. I didn’t care where we were going as long as I could breathe some fresh air and not think about last night. One stray thought, and the burn he left in me roared back to life.
My gaze drifted to the console where a manila envelope rested. Someone dropped it off while we were in the shower. I figured it had to do with whatever business he was going to handle.
We pulled up outside a boutique nestled between a flower shop and a barber shop. Rodion grabbed the envelope and stepped out. I followed, brushing my hair out of my eyes as I shut the door. He didn’t head for a back alley or some shady office.
Instead, he walked straight into the boutique and led us to the sunglasses section. He picked up a pair of dark shades and turned to me. Before I could ask, he slid them onto my face. Tilting his head, he studied me, took them off and swapped them for another pair. He stared for a second and peeled off the tags.
He picked a pair for himself, slipped them on, and walked us to the cashier. Whatever this business was, it didn’t smell like flowers and sunshine.
A teenager in a beanie bobbed his head to the music in his headphones. Rodion dropped a bill on the counter, and the boy looked up. They didn’t exchange any words; Rodion simply pointed at the car, and the boy nodded with a bright grin.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got eyes on it.”
Something told me they had done this before. Once we stepped out, I asked, “Are we hiding from someone?”
Rodion took my hand as we walked down the pavement. We looked like a couple in a thriller movie seconds from planting a bomb. “More like spying,” he said.