She leans back, rocking gently while resting her hands on my legs. Her nipples are hard points visible through the silk of her camisole. Her curves bounce with her movement, the fact that they’re hidden somehow making the sight hotter. I home in on the triangle between her legs, on how her pussy stretches to accommodate my cock.
That’s all it takes. I grip her waist to hold her in place and pivot my hips, taking her with harsh thrusts. Sweat beads over my body as I pound into her, taking everything that belongs to me. The foreplay has been too much of a turn-on. Long before I’m ready, the release builds at the base of my spine. Two more thrusts, and sweet, agonizing pleasure pumps through my body and blows my mind. I’m breathing hard, lost in the moment, forgetting crucial details such as being alert.
Wrapping my arms around her, I press her to my chest. I’m reluctant to pull out. My body is sated. It should be satisfied at stamping my possession on her, but now that the idea of earlier has taken root, it wants more. I want everything with her, including the family I never thought I’d have. I won’t rest until it’s done, until I’ve bound her to me with no option of escape. Before that can happen, I need to put a ring on her finger. The one I brought with me isn’t the one that will tie her to me yet, but for now, it’ll do.
Reluctantly, I move her aside. Sex with Katerina is always hot, but our morning sex is especially intense. After cleaning her up, I coax her into having a shower with me, and then I take her back to bed. It’s still early, yet neither of us is tired enough to drift back to sleep.
After pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, I get two cups of hot carob almond milk from the vending machine in the hallway and carry them back to the room.
She gives me a smile when I offer her the drink. “You always spoil me with breakfast in bed.” Teasingly, she adds, “You do realize I’ve gotten used to it and will now expect it for life?”
For life. Fuck, yeah. “I can live with that.”
I leave my drink on the nightstand and get the gift-wrapped box from my bag. Getting back into bed next to her, I say, “Merry Christmas.”
Biting her lip, she looks at the box I leave on her lap.
“Hey.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “What’s wrong?”
Her smile turns sad. “I didn’t get you anything. I would have, but…”
She doesn’t say it’s because I took away her access to her money and her freedom to go where she likes.
“We don’t celebrate Christmas in Russia on this date.” It’s a poor excuse, a feeble attempt at brushing away the hurt that underlies the unsaid, but I tell myself this situation is only temporary. “Besides, I don’t need anything.”
She looks at me quickly. “That’s not the point. Giving a gift isn’t about offering something the recipient needs.”
My words are gentle, soothing. “I know, my love.” My smile is a consolation. “But I appreciate the intention. That’s all that matters.”
Judging by the pleat between her eyebrows, she disagrees. Not wanting to spoil the aftermath of our amazing sex with an argument, I opt for changing the subject. “Aren’t you going to open that? I know you already know what it is, but it seemed like an appropriate time to give it to you.”
“Thank you,” she says, making a good effort to not let me see the sadness that remains in her eyes.
I keep my tone light. “Open it first before you thank me.”
She tears away the wrapping paper and opens the lid of the box. “It really is exquisite.”
I lift the ring from the box and take her hand to slide it onto her finger. “Rubies suit you.”
“So that is what the ring is for? For Christmas?”
“Yes,” I say, another lie sliding smoothly from my tongue.
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted to.” And that’s not a lie.
“Thank you again.” She holds her hand to the light, studying the ring.
“You’re very welcome again.”
“What about the gifts we brought for Joanne, June, and the girls at the ER?” Hope sounds in her tone. “Are we making a detour via New York?”
“No.” I try to deal the blow with gentleness. “Leonid already mailed the gifts yesterday from town.”
“I see.” She nods a couple of times. “That was a good idea.” Leaving the paper cup on the nightstand, she gets out of bed.
“Katyusha.”
“I’m going to get dressed,” she says, not looking at me. “My mom always gets up early. I’d like to have breakfast with her.”
It takes every ounce of willpower I possess and more not to go after her, but my gut tells me to give her a moment. As close as we were during sex, she’s pulling away from me again. Her behavior only confirms what I already know. Katerina isn’t a woman I can buy with gifts and keep happy by showering with jewelry.