They both laughed again, then he propped himself up so he could look down at her. He was still smiling, but his eyes were serious as he looked over her face. She swallowed thickly and stared back at him. Took in his boyish good looks and messy hair.
You should really, really fall for this man.
“Liam,” she whispered. He lifted his hand and played with a strand of her hair.
“Hmmm?”
“You created this monster. Before you, I never knew I could even be this girl. Never knew it was something I wanted. And that's amazing, and I'll never be able to thank you for it.”
“But ...”
Katya shook her head.
“No buts. The things he brings out in me are different. It's like … you make me expand. You open my eyes and widen my boundaries. He makes me contract. My eyes only see him and he's my only boundary. You're both just so … different. Completely different, in what you do for me, and how you make me feel,” she tried her best to explain.
“Hmmm.”
He wasn't looking her in the eyes. Was just staring down at her shoulder, where he was playing with the hair. She'd worn her hair down – for him, because he'd said he liked it down. She suddenly got very scared that a shift had happened, that she'd said too much. She didn't want to lose him.
“Liam, maybe we shouldn't -” she started to say, but then he dropped down on top of her. So abruptly, she actually shrieked. His mouth hovered barely a millimeter above her own.
“You know what I've been thinking about?” he whispered, so close she could feel the brush of his lips.
“What?” she whispered back, then gasped when he moved again. His nose was against her neck, his lips against her pulse.
“That aerobics class. How good you were. How much better you probably are now,” he hissed, then she felt his teeth clamp down on her skin. She arched against him.
“I'm not stripping for you,” she said.
“Sounds good. Want me to put on some music?”
“Liam, I just said I wouldn't.”
“I heard 'yes, my sweet and gentle lover, I will slowly strip for you and then allow you to fuck any orifice you please', isn't that weird?”
“There is nothing sweet and gentle about you, and I will not let you fuck any orifice you please.”
“But you've already given me access to two very important ones.”
Katya took a deep breath.
“I'm not stripping,” she said again.
“Ah, you've already weakened on one stance. Let's just cut out the begging and get to the stripping.”
He kept kissing her shoulder. Eventually, his lips moved to her chest, which meant her sweater would have to go. But as his fingers curled around the hem, he hesitated. He always hesitated, and in that moment, she thought to herself “Wulf never hesitates – he sees what he wants and he goes for it. He wants me.” – fucked up, man. She knew Liam wanted her, she could feel his erection. Knew he cared about her, they were very good friends. But his lips were on her skin and his weight was on her body, and all she could think about was another man.
This isn't right. For the first time ever, this really isn't right.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered as his hands moved away from her sweater.
“Never apologize, angel cake. Rain check?” he asked, his breath hot on her shoulder. She struggled to breathe.
“Yeah. Thank you, Liam,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Thank you.”
His arms wiggled their way around her waist and finally, he was hugging her back.
“If I ever become a successful stripper,” Katya started, desperate to lighten the mood. “I will be sure to let everyone know they have you to thank.”
“Damn straight you will. And don't be expecting any tips from me. I only make it rain for strippers I don't know.”
“How chivalrous of you.”
“I know, right?”
*
Beyond not feeling right about having sex with him, Katya hadn't wanted to strip for Liam because the thought had made her feel nervous and a little embarrassed. What if she messed up? What if she wasn't as good as he'd remembered?
But the woman he'd described had been sexy and uninhibited, and not scared of anything. Katya wanted to be that woman. Liam made her feel like she could be that woman. Wulf was going to experience that woman.
“I've never been to your apartment.”
Wulf didn't believe in setting up dates, that much she'd figured out. He'd called her just as she was getting off work and told her to come to his office. He wanted to take her to dinner, he explained, but a meeting was running late. She could wait for him, he'd probably be done once she got there.
Only, he wasn't – his meeting ran very late. After thirty minutes had gone by, he'd texted her. Gave her directions to his private office, where she could wait more comfortably.
It didn't seem to occur to him that maybe she'd rather just go home.
But of course, Katya didn't suggest it, either. He still had that strange hold on her. If Wulf said it, then so shall it be. She walked down several hallways, passed a bunch of cubicles, and was met by the same assistant who'd come into the bakery on that fateful day, already so long ago.
Wherever Wulf was, his assistant was sure to be close behind – Ayumi Nakada moved around him like a shadow, and was barely more visible than one. She was tiny, a hair's width over five foot, and usually very quiet. When she did speak, though, it was in the same tone of voice Wulf used. Brisk, no nonsense, authoritative. She'd always come off a little bitchy to Katya. Cold. Like she thought she was above other people.
Probably comes from years of working with someone like Wulf.
Ayumi showed Katya to a set of huge double doors, opening one for her and gesturing for her to enter. The door was closed behind her, and then she was alone. In Wulf's private domain.
There wasn't anything personal about the office. He had a huge oak desk that sat in front of floor to ceiling windows. A wall to her right held a floating shelf, which was covered in awards and trophies and certificates. His desk top was perfectly clean, everything in order, even the pens and pencils lined up, and for the first time, she wondered if he had a light case of OCD.
When she sat in his chair, she actually shivered. He was such a powerful man, sometimes it was easy to forget it wasn't just for her benefit. He controlled a lot of peoples' lives, in a way. Their fortunes, their futures. All from that chair. She took a deep breath through her nose, could smell his cologne. She rubbed her legs together and sighed, wondering if there was at least a lonely little magazine she could use to distract herself.
While searching his desk, it hit her. The lack of personalization. No photos of his family, which really wasn't too much of a shock. But no photos of him with impressive clients, or business partners. No art work. Everything was very standard, clearly picked based on appearance and not personal preference.
Jesus, what does his home look like?
He'd been to her building three times, and to her apartment twice already. He'd commented on her room, on how adorable it was, on how it suited her, which it did. Katya knew she had a very girly style, and she indulged in it often, decorating to suit her own tastes. She had a small office at the bakery, and it reflected her personal style, as well.