Page 122 of Alexei (Belles & Mobsters 4)

I walked past him and into his penthouse.

The door shut behind me with a softclick, and I turned around to see him leaning against it. He crossed his arms, his large biceps pulled tight. He no longer had his suit jacket nor a tie and his white dress shirt sleeves were rolled up. This was him. Fuck the suits or glittering ballrooms. I wanted him as he was.

He watched me with a half-lidded stare, his pale blue gaze burning up like fuel. He waited for me to make the first move. For me to choose him.

I took a step towards him. And another. He watched my every move, like a panther stalking its prey though he wasn’t the one moving. I stopped toe-to-toe with him, our bodies almost brushing against each other.

“I’m yours,” I rasped.

His stare on my skin burned and the tension seemed to stretch on forever.

“If you want me,” I spoke softly, my heart thundering in my chest, right above the life we created. It turned out my crying was very well founded. “I’ll choose you forever. Every time. I’m sorry about Russia,” I murmured, the damn emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “I should have chosen you then too.”

“Kroshka,” he said roughly, his voice hoarse and full of emotions. How could I have ever thought him cold? There were so many layers to this man, there was nothing stoic or cold about him.

“You’re mine too,” I said in a shaky voice. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

He stayed still for so long, and fear slowly snuck into my bloodstream and spread. Maybe he changed his mind.

Then he took my hand and I watched our fingers interlock, his tattoos stark against my skin.

“Come with me,” he demanded, his voice accented. I learned by now that his accent became thicker when he felt a lot. As we strode through the room, hand-in-hand, I noted he only had a few pieces of furniture. No personal effects.

He opened the door at the far end of the hallway, letting me walk in first. My steps faltered and I stared at the large bed in the middle of the room. Instantly, my insides quivered.

He strode in behind me and headed for the couch. I watched, curious, waiting for his instruction. Our eyes locked, two heartbeats passed. He started unbuttoning his dress shirt. My breath hitched, my eyes hungry on his every movement. He slid his dress shirt off his shoulders, and my mouth watered at the sight. Every inch of him was hard, covered in ink.

His pants followed and lust shot through my veins while my heart thundered hard against my ribcage. In all the time I have known him and all the times that he fucked me, it was the first time I actually saw him naked. His cock sprung forward, hard and ready for me. An ache throbbed between my thighs and I clenched them together, hoping to relieve it. Two months without having his length inside me was too long.

Yet, it struck me all wrong. Despite his obvious arousal, he looked so nervous. His hands visibly shook as he’d unbuckled his pants just minutes ago. His forehead was slightly glistening.

“Alexei-” I started but he stopped me.

“Tie me up,” he ordered, lying down on the bed. He looked like a god, sprawled across the bed. His arms reached up and he gripped the iron bars on the headboard. “There is rope in the nightstand.”

I gasped, knowing exactly how much he hated being tied up. After learning what happened to him, I didn’t blame him.

“But please, take your dress off,” he pleaded in a hoarse voice. “I have been dreaming about you for eight long weeks, kroshka. Let me see you.”

My hand shook as I obeyed, struggling with the zipper. Finally tugging it down, the dress slid off my body, leaving me only in my bra and panties. I stepped out of the pool of fabric at my feet.

“Turn around,” he ordered. “I want to see your ass.” I did as he asked, turning slowly, giving him a show. His gaze burned my skin in the most delicious way.

“Come and tie me up, kroshka.” His voice was thick with emotions, full of a vulnerability I wasn’t used to seeing or hearing from this strong man. He had spent a lifetime perfecting the ability to hide his emotions under a cold mask. It was something he needed to do to survive and now…I’m selfish, I came to the conclusion. It wasn’t fair that I demanded to tear it all down; that I demanded his everything because I wanted to give him my everything.

It should have been his to give all along.

“Alexei, I don’t want to tie you up,” I whispered, my pulse thundering in my ears.

“I want to be what you want, Aurora.”

My eyes burned with unshed tears. “You are,” I assured him, choking with intense emotions. “You are everything I want.” My voice cracked. “I-I can’t tie you up, Alexei. Please don’t ask me.”

He would let me tie him up, but it made me physically sick to do it to him, knowing how much it impacted him. There were so many words I wanted to say to him. How much I loved him, the good and the bad, the broken and the fucked up. I wanted to fall apart in his hands. For him.

“Come here and touch me then,” he demanded, his voice thick. “You need that and I want to give it to you, kroshka.”

He stared at me intensely. Possessive. And I willingly drowned in the depths of his arctic blues.

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