“No,” I say, still stunned by the ferocity I’ve just witnessed. It’s like he flips in some ways, flicking between these two halves of his personality. My mind is burning with questions—what has his brother done now? But something inexplicable warns me from asking.
So I don’t.
“I’m just reassessing,” I say instead. “I think it might be better to make these purchases in person. Find something special. Do you even know what she likes? Dislikes?”
He looks down, his jaw tight. “There is a list in the documentation from her social worker,” he admits.
“You’ve read it?”
He stares off into the distance and slowly nods.
“We’ll look for things together, then,” I suggest, rising to my feet. The real world lingers beyond this room, but I’m selfish. Childish, even. I’m desperate to extend this moment, and I cross over to him without a second’s hesitation, looping my arms around his neck from behind. “Tomorrow we’ll go out and buy some things for her in person. Do I still get my treat?”
He stiffens, but then cups my hips, and any previous tension eases. “Remember when, during your explicit proposal of your demands in exchange for a piercing, that you requested a swing?”
He makes it sound so harmless, but I squeal in utter debauched delight. It’s a relatively effortless gesture on his part, but it betrays an intent that leaves me giddy—more debauched kink. My eyes trace the contours of the rectangular base, and I slowly begin to recognize the makings of a sexual swing set. Just for me.
“I love how you make my fantasies come true,” I murmur near his ear.
He strokes down my hip, and I sense again that something unspoken is being transferred between us. Something hot and sensual that makes me back away.
“Let me be your assistant?” I ask as he turns to face me.
He smirks and directs me to a leather case containing silver tools. I perch beside it and hand him tools one by one at his request. I think he manages to work for a solid hour in peace before the pressure building between my legs becomes unbearable. Being with him is forcing me to rethink all the turn-ons I’d had before now.
A man wearing only a dress shirt, screwing pieces of a sex swing together? Check.
Said man glancing at me every few seconds with hooded, lusty eyes? Double check.
And when he stands and rakes his fingers through a mane of curls glistening with sweat, I shrug off my own shirt and sidle up to him, easing a silver wrench from his grasp.
“I want a demonstration,” I murmur, stroking my fingers along the partially built swing. Then I inch the same hand around to his abdomen and boldly stroke downward. “A taste of all the dirty things you plan to do to me on it?”
In exasperation, he turns to me and captures my chin, his grin dangerous. “I’ll never finish at this rate,” he says, eyeing my front.
I shamelessly display myself for him and cup one of my breasts, thumbing the nipple. “You could always say no,” I remind him.
His eyes narrow as if he’s processing the idea. The next second, he’s stepping into me, his mouth finding mine, his hands gripping my hips. One harsh tug brings my pelvis against his.
I take that response as a yes.
Chapter Five
I wake up dazed, lying on a hard surface. The floor? Beside me rests a warm, tempting body that I greedily nestle against even as my eyes open and blink to adjust to the dim light. Oh. I vaguely recognize the budding sex room, complete with the partially-built swing looming above.
And beside me is Vadim, his cheek resting on the open manual and my heart practically melts. No man has ever looked sexier and I can’t resist stroking my fingers along his jaw until he opens his eyes.
“Your playground will take months to achieve at this rate,” he says tiredly. I arch into him as his arms encircle me, drawing me closer.
“Good,” I say with absolutely no regret. “In the meantime, we can build one for Magda—but I promise I won’t strip naked while you work on her swing set.”
He chuckles at that, sounding skeptical. “When do you want to begin your search, oh expert?”
I glance at the gray light coming in through the window and wiggle away from him, climbing to my feet. “Now.”
I help him up and lead him into the shower where I risk a small delay to reward him for indulging me. Together we dress quickly—him in a plain black suit and I settle on a dress in a matching color—and, after a quick breakfast, we take the sports car into the city.
I lean into him, stroking his arm while my brain plays some frantic warning about my own boundaries. My own deadline. My own red lines—I told him this would end soon. After Magda is settled, I need to leave. It will be best for everyone.
“Having second thoughts?” Vadim asks as I pull away from him and focus my attention on the window nearest me.
“H-Huh?” I look over, but he doesn’t appear anywhere near as distraught about us ending this as one might assume.
“I assure you that I am not a good shopping companion,” he confesses. “Are you sure you can’t manage alone?”
Oh. I brush my fingers along his forearm and squeeze the rock-hard muscle lurking beneath. “I need your strength,” I insist. “I plan to put your skills as a handyman to use.”
“Handy, you say…” His upper lip quirks as he scans the road. “There are people I can hire for that.”
“No.” I marvel at the authority my own voice packs. “I want you to do it. Some things we can make exceptions for, but you should have a hand in this.”
He doesn’t respond but his eyes take on that far-away darkness. Desperate to change the subject, I lean down and fish through
