I hope you miss me too—if only a little.

  Z

  I read and reread his words over and over again, my heart doing strange things as well. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a white flag was being waved in surrender.

  He missed me.

  And I was already tired of fighting with myself that I missed him too.

  I didn’t want to, but there was no denying the truth any longer. Not when I ached to see him, to simply be in the same room with him. Was this obsession? It had to be, because I didn’t know what else to call it. Love didn’t seem like the right word. It was too soon. Insta-love didn’t exist—I didn’t care what anyone said.

  But obsession, I could believe that.

  “Well?” Tavia asked softly, her lips lifted in a slight smile when I tore my gaze from the little white card with the bold, dark handwriting.

  “Do you know where Zak lives?”

  Zak

  Not getting an immediate response from Sofia caused something akin to a static sound in my head. I thought for sure that the flowers and note would be enough to have her call me at the least. Fuck, I’d even been honest about missing her. Yet I’d received nothing but silence from her.

  Frustrated, I tossed my phone onto my desk and stood. It was an effort not to stomp across my home office so I could glare out at the afternoon sunshine. It was a crisp fall day, but those walking on the sidewalk below didn’t seem to feel the bite as they focused only on getting to their destination on foot.

  Their hurried pace made me restless. It had nothing to do with wanting to see Sofia. The little brat was simply annoying me, making my plan to have her fall for me take longer than I had anticipated. She might have only met me the night before, but I’d been waiting for months. I wanted this over with so I could get back to my own country, surrounded by my people. Even if Oleksandr was a pain in the ass, I missed Olena and Yulia.

  Once Sofia was with her biological family, and we’d produced an heir that shared both the Morozov and Davydov bloodlines, then I could relax. The debt I felt I owed Oleksandr for all that he’d done for me over the years would finally be paid.

  Having Sofia as my wife, and starting a family with her—that was nothing more than a bonus.

  Though I needed to take my time, the phone conversation I’d had with Oleksandr earlier that morning made that impossible. He wanted his granddaughter married and hopefully with child before the holidays. It was the timeline he’d insisted on before abruptly ending the call, which was his way of saying he wouldn’t listen to reason and expected me to follow through.

  Had it been any other man, I would have already ground the asshole into dust. But this was Oleks, the only true father figure I’d ever had. Letting him down wasn’t an option. My sense of obligation to the man wouldn’t allow me to give him anything less than the perfection he demanded.

  The fact that I was getting something I wanted at the same time was synchronicity.

  My office door flew open behind me, and I turned, ready to tear the head off whoever had dared to step inside my domain without permission. Finding Sofia standing there, dressed in a long-sleeved dress that barely covered her ass, knocked the air out of my chest. The red heels she wore weren’t the same as the night before, but they were just as sexy.

  I took a step forward, ready to back her against the door she’d just thrown open so hard it had bounced off the wall. Those silky thighs of hers would wrap around my waist, and those heels would fall off as I fucked her against the thick, hard wood.

  But then she planted her hands on her hips, her nostrils flaring in a way that was refreshingly adorable. The icy flames flaring in her blue eyes, however, were anything but. They screamed danger, and that excited me even more. My dick was already straining to be set free, only to be sheathed in the tight haven between her legs.

  “How often do you have female visitors if your house staff doesn’t even blink when I show up at your door, asking to see you?” she demanded.

  The jealousy I heard in her voice pleased me, making it hard to fight a grin.

  “Was this before or after you gave them your name, dragotsennyy?” I asked, trying to mask my amusement.

  Her brows pinched together in thought. “I may have told them who I am,” she muttered, but she quickly amped up the white-hot blue flames in those incredible eyes of hers. “Stop distracting me. You can’t send me sweet notes about missing me and all that utter bullshit and then let just anyone with a pussy into your home.”

  “And why is that?” I challenged with a smirk.

  “Why?” Her voice dropped low. It was a dangerous, feminine sound that made my cock twitch. “You ask why after sending me a note that said I ensnared you and caused something strange to happen to your heart? Do you do that a lot, Zakhar Morozov? Are there a dozen cards just like that floating around the city?”

  “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you’re angry?” I murmured, crossing the room to her.

  She made a disgusted sound and started to turn for the door she’d stormed through only moments before. “I should have known you were too good to be real.”

  The hurt in her voice wiped away every trace of my amusement. I caught her around the waist just as she started to step over the threshold, and I jerked her back against me. “You are the first woman—with the exception of my mother and sister—I have ever sent flowers to. I meant every word on the card, Sofia. A card that was meant solely for you.”

  A sexy little huff left her, but she melted back into me. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

  I skimmed my nose up her neck, inhaling her subtle floral scent. The shiver that raked her entire body only made my dick that much harder. “Am I?”

  “Yes,” she snapped, then moaned when I scraped my teeth over her earlobe. “You aren’t allowed to make me jealous ever again. I don’t like this feeling.”

  “I promise never to give you cause to be jealous from this moment forward,” I vowed. My hand around her waist traveled lower until I rested my fingers just above the mound of her pussy. Her gasp sent sparks of electricity through my blood. “But I require a promise in return.”

  “Wh–what?”

  “I don’t feel any panties, Sofia,” I growled against the shell of her ear. “It drives me crazy thinking of you walking around this city with nothing covering this pussy.”

  I moved my hand lower until I was cupping her. The dress hiked up, only protecting a portion of her from my hand. I could feel how wet she was, how bare. She was so smooth that I knew she waxed. My own jealousy spiked through me. “Who has seen this pussy, dorogaya? Tell me, who has touched this hot, wet wonderland?”

  A choked sound left her, but instead of answering me, she tilted her hips against me. The little minx tortured me by rubbing her sweet ass over my pulsing cock. “Who has seen this anaconda, Zak?” she challenged. “Who has been on their knees, sucking this cock?”

  “I fear if I give you names, you will do as I want to do, should you tell me who has touched what is mine.”

  “And what’s that?” she asked, turning her head to glance up at me over her shoulder.

  “Slit every one of their throats.”

  “Definitely no names, then,” she said with a hint of a grin. “Give me numbers.”

  “You first,” I commanded.

  A soft laugh left her. “I have a reputation in this city. I’ll kiss anyone I consider hot enough who looks at me twice.” I began to vibrate with rage, but she didn’t seem to notice as she continued. “But when they want to take things further, I turn them down. Which is why everyone calls me a cocktease.”

  “You are teasing my cock very, very well right now,” I gritted out, guiding her as she continued to swivel her hips in small circles. Thick liquid leaked from my tip. It felt like a waste that it wasn’t leaking deep inside her. “But that doesn’t answer my question. How many bastards have touched you like I am now? How many have tasted you? Been inside you?”

  As I asked the last question, her hand covered the top of mine and guided it lower. Her legs spread farther apart, and she pushed two of my fingers inside her. The tightness, the way her pussy tried to suck me in while fighting my invasion at the same time made every drop of blood still in my head flood south so rapidly it made me dizzy.

  “Zero,” she said around a moan. “None of them was worthy of getting this far. Not a single one of them has touched me here, tasted me as I want you to taste me, Zak.”

  Her tightness spoke of how true her words were. No one had been inside her. I would be the first—the only fucking man to ever know how it felt to have her pussy mold around my cock.

  All thoughts of Oleksandr and what he wanted vanished from my head. Twisting her around, I lifted her at the waist, already hiking up her dress with my fingers to expose her lush ass and soaked pussy lips. Carrying her out of the office, I made it to my bedroom on muscle memory only.

  I barely had her on the bed before I was pulling the dress over her head, leaving her in only a lacy white bra. She lowered her long lashes, hiding her eyes from me, but not before I saw the need mixed with vulnerability shining in their blue depths. Grasping her chin, I tilted back her head, wanting her focus solely on me.

  “Don’t be shy, lyubimaya. Not with me. I’m going to worship this beautiful body. Mark it as mine.” I brushed my lips lightly over hers, steeling my control so I could keep my promise and not attack her like a madman possessed by all the lust that was trying to consume me.

  No lover had ever affected me so strongly with such ease. The power she held over my need for her should have worried me, but I was too far gone to care. Making love to her so soon was not part of the plan. I was supposed to wait until she was my wife. But not even a saint could hold back once Sofia was in their arms. Holding back would kill me.

  “Does that mean you will be mine too?” she asked, her voice full of strength even as her gaze continued to hold that endearing vulnerability.

  “Always, dragotsennyy.”

  Sofia

  I felt it before I could even open my eyes. That sick, dizzy sensation where the world wouldn’t stop spinning and vomit was already climbing up my throat.

  With a whimper, I turned for the edge of the bed, knowing I wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom in time, because it was coming and I couldn’t stop it.

  “Dragotsennyy!” Zak’s concerned voice only made me whine again. Vomiting made a person vulnerable, and I didn’t want him to see me so weak. But the vomit wouldn’t stop, and all I could do was hold on to the side of the mattress as I puked until I was dry heaving.

  Behind me, my boyfriend gathered my hair, but it was already too late. I could feel the sticky sickness gluing strands to my cheek, mixed in with the dinner I’d eaten the night before. Through the spasms, I tried to remember how much I’d drunk when we’d gone out to one of my family’s clubs, but I hadn’t even had a glass of champagne.

  Which meant this wasn’t a hangover.

  When it was over and I could breathe without the need to hurl, I collapsed onto the bed, half my head and one arm hanging over the side. Vaguely, I heard feet hit the hardwood floor, and I was thankful for that reminder because it would have been a hundred times more embarrassing if someone had to clean my mess out of a carpet.

  Arms that had spent the last five weeks holding me every night, keeping me warm and safe as I fell asleep, lifted me from our bed. I hid my face in his neck as he carried me into the bathroom.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice was hoarse from the burn of the vomit, and I realized before he even sat me on the side of the bathtub that by pressing my face into his neck, I’d smeared my sickness all over his shoulder and chest.

  He crouched down in front of me, concern and love shining so bright in his golden eyes that tears filled my own. “Are you well enough now to shower, or would you rather I run you a bath?”

  “Shower,” I was quick to answer.

  Zak tucked the strands of hair sticking to my face behind my ear, making me grimace in disgust at myself. But he didn’t seem the least bit fazed as he stroked his thumb over my jaw before straightening so he could get the shower ready. Once the water was heated to his satisfaction, he began to strip me of the T-shirt I’d slipped into after we’d made love the night before, leaving me sitting there completely naked.

  Shakily, I got to my feet, and to my surprise, he pulled off his boxers and guided me into the huge shower stall. With firm yet gentle hands, he washed the puke from my hair then soaped the rest of my body. By the time we were both clean, my stomach had stopped roiling, but I felt weaker than a newborn kitten.

  Seeming to understand that, he took his time drying my body and hair with a towel before carrying me back to the bed. His staff had already been in to clean up my mess and change the bedding. I was glad, because I wasn’t sure how I would have handled the sight and scent of my stomach contents on the floor again.

  Leaving me long enough to grab fresh clothes for the both of us, Zak returned with another one of his T-shirts for me, already dressed in a pair of black sweatpants. Despite the heartburn still sitting in the back of my throat and heating my chest, I couldn’t help licking my lips at the sight of the shirtless man before me.

  Every muscle in his arms, chest, and abdomen was sharp-edged and hard as stone. The ink that covered them was sexy, but none more so than my name written in his native language right over his heart. It was a new addition to the artwork-covered canvas that was his body. The tattoo was only a few days old, still slightly red around the edges and raised in a few spots. Each time I saw it, the ache that never seemed to be fully satisfied unless he was deep inside me began to throb.

  “How are you feeling now, lyubimaya?” he asked, the concern darkening his eyes returning my focus—and embarrassment—to what had happened less than half an hour before.

  “I have mad heartburn,” I admitted. “But my stomach has stopped tossing, and the dizziness has passed.”

  His golden eyes searched my face for a long moment before he reached for his phone and typed a quick message. I frowned as I watched his fingers move swiftly over the screen. Once he was done, a reply popped up within seconds, but I couldn’t read either message.

  “One of my men will get you something to help with the heartburn,” he murmured softly. Dropping a kiss on top of my damp head, he took a step back. “Give me ten minutes to get shaved, and then I’ll dry your hair.”

  “You don’t have to,” I protested, but he shot me a stern look, and I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile.

  Before Zak, I’d never been interested in the guys who got all possessive and commanding. I wasn’t looking for someone who wanted to dominate me. But that wasn’t Zak at all. He didn’t want to dominate me or make me submit to him. All he wanted was to care for me, make sure I was safe and happy.

  In the five weeks we’d been together, I’d learned that pretty fast. I liked it when he got all growly over my well-being.

  Not surprisingly, I’d fallen for him. And even though neither of us had said the words aloud, we both knew how we felt for each other. Zak couldn’t keep the stars out of his eyes when he looked at me. The gentle way he kissed me good night, the hungry way he woke me up, as if he’d missed me even in his sleep.

  My mother was smug as hell. Neither of my parents was surprised when I’d basically moved in with Zak the day after the charity event. Every time Mom saw either of us, she got this gleam in her eye, one that shouted, “I told you so!” I was just waiting for her to start hinting about us getting married.

  Something I was no longer opposed to. Because with Zak, I’d found that I was a different person—a better person. I wanted to make him proud to be with me, not cringe at the spoiled bitch I’d been in the past.

  Thirty minutes later, I sat cross-legged in the middle of our bed with the covers tucked in around me. My hair was dry, and Zak was busy putting away the blow-dryer and all the different sprays that were required when a girl dried her hair. I loved that he’d watched me do it so many times that he was aware of what was needed so my hair wasn’t damaged from the heat.

  A sharp tap on the door had me shifting, but Zak growled at me to stay put as he jogged across our bedroom and opened the door just wide enough to take the bag from one of his men. With a curt thank you, he shut it and began walking toward me, already pulling out items.

  The bottle of antacids was first, and he uncapped it before shaking out two and offering me the minty discs. While I chewed, he turned the bag upside down and poured the rest of the contents onto the end of the bed.

  When I caught sight of the boxes, my mouth dropped open with the half-chewed antacids still on my tongue.

  “Wh–what are those?” I squeaked, scooting back until my shoulders hit the headboard as if the boxes contained something that might bite me if I weren’t careful.

  Zak picked up one of the three pregnancy test packages and flipped it over, reading the directions on the back. “We’ve been making love for weeks now, dragotsennyy,” he said calmly while his gaze skimmed over the box. “And you haven’t had your period in that entire time. Then you wake up so ill that you can’t make it out of bed. I think this is the natural next step to rule out why you are feeling sick.”

  “But…” The chalky mint was hard to swallow, but somehow I got it down before speaking again. “I mean… It hasn’t been… Fuck.”

  He grinned and shot me a wink before opening the box and handing me the plastic-wrapped stick that I needed to pee on. “Would you like me to assist you?”

  I glared up at him as I snatched the test out of his hand. “You stay right where you are, Zakhar Morozov. If you step one foot inside that bathroom while I’m peeing on this little stick, I’m going to stab you in the eye with it.”