-Aww, thank you for such wonderful reviews, guys. I'm so relieved that you're still reading this and I can't wait to show you more of these characters.

This is a nearly-rated-M chapter that I might change the rating for... Warning you all right now. XD

And it's a little glimpse into how Zoya and Nikolai are doing after that heated scene at Genya's party ;)-

-Give In-

Part of Zoya found what she was doing to be extremely stupid. Another part of her was grudgingly giddy, but she shoved that part so far down inside, it was hardly a flicker.

She was standing outside of Nikolai Lantsov's door. She had on better makeup than usual, had curled her hair, and was wearing boots with damn heels on them.

What the hell was she doing?

Knock on the door and get it over with, she ordered herself. The sooner this was done, the better. Exhaling raggedly, she knocked on the door with sharp motions. Then, like the silly silly girl she was apparently being today, she fluffed her hair around her shoulders and checked to make sure her red tank top showed just enough skin at her waist. "Ugh, I'm turning into a slut," she muttered despairingly, glaring at the centimeter of her stomach that was visible.

Then the door swung open, revealing a lazy Nikolai leaning against the doorframe in dark jeans. In ONLY dark jeans. God, this was the worst idea ever. He raised his eyebrows, half-surprise, half-smugness. "Zoya," he greeted in that grand way of his. "I thought you never wanted to see me ag—"

"Shut up," she cut in. "I'd rather be anywhere but here right now."

"And yet, here you are."

"I'm going to punch you."

"Wow. All right then, if that's what you want." Shrugging, he tossed her a drowsy smirk. "Go ahead then."

Did he work out? He had to work out. He had a freaking six-pack and she couldn't stop looking at his arms. Gritting her teeth, she held up a jacket in one hand like she was afraid it was contagious. "You left this at Genya's after the party."

To her extreme annoyance, he laughed at her. "That's why you came all the way over here?" he asked. "To give me back my jacket?"

"Yes," she bit out.

"You must really care." Batting ridiculous puppy-eyes at her, he reached out as though to take the jacket. Then, like the idiot he was, he switched to tug at a lock of her hair. "Did you do something different with your hair?"

"Don't touch me. No, I didn't." She jerked away from him. "Do you want your jacket or not?"

He folded his arms over his chest, hazel eyes glimmering. "No."

"Then what do you want that's making you act like such an ass?"

"You."

It struck her speechless for a second. She stared at him, jacket hanging limply in her grasp. He just looked back, quiet and waiting. His hair was shower-damp and tousled like spilled honey. He was nothing but tanned skin and toned muscle, and she wanted to kiss every inch of him. Mortified at her own thoughts, she fought down a blush. Shut up, Zoya! she yelled at herself. She just needed to give him his jacket and get out of here before she did something REALLY stupid.

Like push him up against the wall and kiss the cocky smirk off his face.

"Just—Take it," she snapped, jabbing the jacket at him.

His eyes went from the jacket dangling in front of him to her arm holding it, then gradually traveled to her shoulders, her hips, everywhere. She nearly shivered when his gaze lingered on the length of her legs showing from her denim shorts. He still didn't take his jacket back. He just let his eyes wander back up to her face, suddenly much too serious for her liking. "Why do you always have to run away?" he asked softly. She stiffened. His voice was tired, but with a trace of an emotion she could only call longing. "You're proud and confident, and I get that. But you're also afraid. You're the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen. So why're you afraid of being close to me?"

She stood there dumbly. She thought of some witty comeback she could throw at him before marching off, but she never said it. She was still standing there and she was still holding his stupid jacket. Why had she even come here? What did she think was going to happen?

He sighed and she heard the resignation in it. Then he was reaching for the jacket and she saw that look on his face, that empty look that meant he was giving up. And dammit, she hated when he looked like that.

She did the dumbest thing a human being could ever do. She shoved his jacket into his chest and darted up to crush her lips against his. She felt the shock of it rattling through him, his body freezing. Then, God, he was melting, hands on her waist and mouth soft under hers. Anger and want warred inside of her. Just to even think that she'd fallen for cocky rich Lantsov—

"How's this for afraid?" she growled into his lips, pushing him right over the threshold and into the house. He didn't even stumble; as a matter of fact, he PULLED her in with him, hands clenching in the back of her top in helpless want. Not glancing back, she kicked the door shut with her heel and took charge. She tangled her fingers in his hair and backed him up against a wall.

"Zoya," he breathed out, burying one of his hands in her hair and tilting her head back. She thought about telling him to get his fingers out of her hair because she'd worked hard on it, but then his mouth was on her neck and she decided to let it go for now. She only let a sigh escape her as he kissed down her throat, making his way back toward her ear. His breath fanned across it and she stifled a shudder.

"Don't think that this means I like you," she muttered, and he laughed breathlessly.

"Love, I'd never think such a thing," he murmured. Playful, he bit down gently on the curve of her ear and ran his hands down her back. Flames lit inside of her at his touch and she had the sudden overwhelming ache to feel him, skin on skin.

It came as a surprise when he pushed off the wall and spun, trapping her against it instead. He rested his forearms on either side of her head, caging her in. Her body missed his touch more than she thought it should. She met his gaze with hers, hazel into blue. His eyes were half-lidded and much too soft, as though he was afraid of breaking her. "Stop staring like a weirdo," she quipped, hooking her fingers in his belt loops to pull him closer. Leaning her head back, she caught his bottom lip in her teeth and bit down hard enough to cause a sting of pain.

Nikolai whimpered and Zoya swore it was the hottest sound she'd ever heard. His mouth was crushed to hers in the next moment, stealing the breath right out of her. He curled his fingers around the back of her knee and hiked her leg up around his waist; at the same time, he snuck his leg between hers and lifted his knee high enough to make her gasp. "Don't—" she tried, but her body reacted on its own to the touch and her head dropped to hit the wall. She felt him kissing along her shoulder as he grabbed her hips, pulling her into him. She closed her eyes, swearing under her breath when her hips moved on their own, grinding against his. Dammit, this was not how she wanted to be remembered: as the girl that fell apart for him with only a few touches.

"Don't what?" he asked, voice husky and muffled against her collarbone. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Do you want ME to stop?" she shot back. And she pressed her hands to his back pockets and hauled their bodies flush together. She could feel all of him, everything skin and muscle, and she could also feel him tremble when she touched him. She glared at him from under curling black hair, content with the silent plea in his gaze. Smirking evilly, she ran her nails lightly up his back. "That all you got, Lantsov?"

Just the reminder of the night at Genya's party was enough for him. He became a different person, more unhinged than any version of Nikolai she'd seen before. He had her pinned against the wall again in a second, mouth back on her collarbone with new need. Zoya clung to his shoulder blades as his tongue ran along the hollow at the base of her throat and knew right then that she was going to be just as desperate as he was. Curling her fingers in his hair, she yanked him forward to kiss him again, hot and right and so damn addicting. One of his hands seared her side through her top, trying to get as close as possible to her. She couldn't tell where his other hand was until she felt it slip down her stomach and join his knee between her legs. As soon as he touched her there, she was done.

"Dammit, Nikolai," she growled, grabbing him by the back of the neck and hauling him away from the hallway. As she backed up farther into the unknown rooms, she pulled his mouth down onto hers and moaned at the first taste of him. They stumbled from the hall to a wide living room, the carpet giving way underneath her boots. His hands were all over her, smoothing over her hips, then under her shirt, splaying across her back. She wasn't sure she was even breathing anymore when she guided him to a black leather couch.

Nikolai broke from the kiss with a desperate breath of air. "What do you want t—?"

"Everything," she interrupted. It was the first time she'd slipped and shown him a glimpse of how he unraveled her. But she erased it with a smirk that had him mewling from the sight and shoved him back onto the couch. Nikolai wasn't the only one who could make someone swoon with a single look. Zoya didn't take her eyes from him, holding him in place as she reached for the hem of her tank top. Her heartbeat fluttered, but she thought it better to just do it instead of telling him she'd never taken her shirt off in front of a guy before. So she peeled the fabric over her head and left it on his floor, right next to a forgotten jacket.

Idiotically, the first thing she wondered was if she looked good enough for him. OF COURSE she would think that, being a girl and all, though she hated admitting that she was insecure with those hazel eyes on her. But she didn't show it once. Picking her hair up off her shoulders, she straddled his hips and circled her arms loosely around his neck. "What're you looking at?" she asked, grinning a devil's grin and enjoying the way Nikolai barely stifled a tiny noise.

"Oh—Nothing," he answered, clipped. His gaze struggled in vain to stay on her face and not wander to the new bare skin she was showing. Clearing his throat, he fingered the strap of her bra. "Did you know red is my favorite color?"

"Really?" She trailed her fingertips through the short hair at the nape of his neck. "I always thought you said it was green."

"Yes, but I think I may have to rethink that."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because you look edible in red."

Zoya tried not to smile, she really did. But when was the last time a guy had called her edible to her face? Never. Resting her forehead against his, she nipped his upper lip. "I have to say, as much I hate you," she began softly, "you're quite the charmer, Lantsov."

His smile was soft as the fingers tracing down her shoulder blades. "Do you call me that to annoy me?"

"Mmm," she hummed, as he leaned in to touch his lips to her shoulder. Then she realized that wasn't a real answer. "Yes."

He chuckled and it vibrated against her skin. "You don't hate me." His index finger hooked around her bra strap and dragged it down off her shoulder. She made a small sound as he kissed across her shoulder, exploring her skin.

"How do you know?" she challenged weakly.

"Because you're still here."

She had no reply to that and besides, she had far better things to be thinking about. Like his mouth moving along the swell of her breasts above her bra or his fingers curling around the clasp at the back. No one had touched her there before and the hints of pleasure dancing under her skin told her to let him. She wanted to let him have all of her. She tossed her head back when she felt the clasp of her bra come undone and sighed when his hands grazed her ribcage. But the moment they slipped higher, brushing the underside of her bra, a lightning bolt of panic brought all of her senses back.

"Stop," she stammered out, seizing his wrists. But she didn't have to. Nikolai had frozen as soon as she spoke, looking up into her face with concern.

"What?"

Zoya could feel the flush crawling up from her chest to her neck and she commanded it to stop. It was very hard when the last piece of clothing covering her chest was slipping down and Nikolai's fingertips were barely touching the sides of her breasts. She wasn't sure if she felt relieved or disappointed when he lowered his hands to a more chaste position on her sides.

Then, eloquent as she was, she blurted it out. "I'm not having sex with you."

At first, he just looked at her. Then he bit down on a laugh and gave her his Lantsov smirk. "Now, Zoya, what about this situation makes you think I want to have sex with you?" he asked, all teasing.

All of her past anger at him threatened to come rushing back. "Maybe because you're taking my clothes off?"

"Hey, you started taking them off first. I was just helping."

"You insufferable son of a—"

He cut her off with a kiss pressed to her mouth, hard and fleeting. Pulling back, he left her breathless, but still annoyed. "Zoya," he said, and the sudden gentleness there made her pause before calling him a rude name. "I would never do anything you weren't ready for yet. I wouldn't take advantage of you, not now and not ever." Then he bit his lip to mask a cocky grin. "As much as you might beg me to."

Now it was Zoya's turn to stare at him. It had never occurred to her that someone as conceited as Nikolai wouldn't expect sex after she'd just taken her shirt off. Hell, she would've expected any other guy to be grumbling irritably at her right now and demanding that she give him what he wanted.

Something new and warm flickered in her chest. She traced the ridge of his ear with her finger and watched his eyelids droop in bliss. If this weren't only their second time together like this, she might've let him take all of her, push him down onto the couch and make him hers. But it was far too early for that. Besides, this conversation was already too serious.

She scoffed. "In your dreams. I'm never begging you for anything."

"Is that so?" he asked.

"Mmhm."

"We'll see about that." Then he took his hands from her, as though he was about to get up. "Now, if you'd get off my lap, I could go and—"

"Where do you think you're going?" She planted her hands on his chest and halted him. His brow furrowed in confusion, then his face blanked entirely when she shrugged out of her bra. She didn't let herself feel any insecurities now, not when she would see his hands trembling with want to touch her. "We're just getting started."

She swore, the best moment of her life was when Nikolai's eyes went round as saucers and—dear god—he blushed. "But I thought you said—" He broke off with a groan as she yanked him against her, her breasts pressed to his chest. He was lithe and solid and deliciously hot everywhere his skin touched hers. She buried her own whimper in the strong bend of his shoulder.

"I said we couldn't have sex," she whispered in his ear, listening to his shaky breaths. "But there's a lot we can do before that happens, isn't there?"

Judging by the way he practically threw her to the couch, he agreed.