She looks at me like I’m slow. “Isn’t it obvious?” One more button undone. “These probably cost a lot of money. I’m not naive.”
“Zoya…”
“I’m not complaining.” One more button and the fabric begins sliding down. “I planned to make this difficult, but truthfully? I’m frustrated, and you obviously want sex, so we might as well…”
“Wait.” I capture her hands before more buttons open. “This wasn’t about getting you in bed.”
She meets my eyes, then starts laughing uncontrollably. “Oh, stop being a prude. You’ve been eye-fucking me all night.”
“That’s not…”
“You literally told me at dinner that you planned to wine, dine, and fuck me.” She pulls her hands free and continues unbuttoning. “Well, you did the first two. So let’s get to the third part.”
“The money is a present, Zoya. Nothing more.”
She halts and fixes me with extreme disbelief. “You crammed this insane amount of euros into expensive bags and bouquets for no reason?”
“Yes.”
“For nothing in return?”
“For you to have it.”
She gives me a hard look. “Alexei. You bought off Moscow’s entire taxi fleet to trap me with you. You got me flowers that symbolize death. You’ve been watching me.” She advances. “Quit the chivalrous routine. We both understand what you’re after.”
Fuck. She’s right.
But there’s something about her calling me out, about her taking control, that’s making me harder than I’ve been all night.
“And what if I do want it?” I ask.
“Then stop pretending you don’t.” She pushes my chest. “Stop with the fake modesty. It’s boring.”
She reaches for the last button of her dress.
I seize her arm. “My rules if we’re doing this.”
She smirks. “Your way? I’m the one who initiated, Pakhan.”
“And I’m the one who’s going to make you scream.” I pull her against me. “So yes, my way.”
She inhales sharply. “Alright. Prove it.”
I capture her lips roughly, finished with facades and done with teasing. She kisses back just as fiercely, her fingers working on my shirt buttons. I guide her in reverse to the couch where that stupid enormous bear sits, and she separates from my mouth, laughing.
“Are you seriously going to fuck me next to a stuffed animal?”
“Not next to it.” I push her down onto the couch. “On it.”
Her dress disappears, material gathered below, and she’s down to black lace that’s drenched. Zoya is panting with enlarged brown eyes as I pull my shirt off. I can see the blood pulsing on her nape. I lower myself to the floor, my hands moving up her skin and parting her legs as she shudders.
“Lie back, beautiful.”
She falls back on the couch, halfway supported by the bear’s cushioned form. I drape her legs across my shoulders and hook my fingers into the waistband of her black lace panties.
“Don’t rip them!” Zoya gasps, her voice pitching higher as both hands fly down to frantically clutch the delicate fabric. “Alexei, no — these are expensive! They’re La Perla, I saved for months for these, don’t you dare tear them!”
In one sharp, brutal tug I rip the lace clean off her body.