Dimitri touches both hands to the roof of the car as we sail through the intersection, admittedly playing fast and loose with the technicalities of the colour orange. He chuckles to himself, and I know it's at my expense. My cheeks warm.
"In a hurry Roza?" he asks. "That was a red light."
"It was not," I shoot back. Dimitri just laughs.
"And besides," I add, "I'm the one driving. You're telling me you'd have driven like my grandmother?"
"If I'd been driving, Roza, we'd already be there."
His words send a thrill up my spine. Well okay then. For obviously unrelated reasons, my foot suddenly feels heavier on the accelerator. My tiny car shoots forward.
When we reach Dimitri's building, he shows me the entrance to what appears to be a small private basement garage. After inputting the code he dictates, I find an empty bay and try not to notice how extra crappy my Nissan looks now that it's parked next to his Audi which has mysteriously returned.
"So you just have people for everything?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at the car I'd last seen parked all the way across the city.
He spares a glance for the car, but his attention sharpens on me in a way that makes me shiver.
"For the more tedious jobs, yes," he says, a glint in his eye. "The fun things I like to do myself."
He steps forward until I'm pressed between the heat of his body and the cool metal of his car. Luxuriously slowly, he reaches one hand up to wrap those long fingers around my throat. He keeps the pressure light, but my heart is pounding. I can feel a flush creeping up my neck, warming my cheeks. Dimitri shifts his grip, tilting my head to one side in order to expose my neck. Then, like he has all the time in the world, he brings his lips to my skin. Featherlight, his mouth skims over my throat, sending a wave of goosebumps across my neck and shoulders. I'm aching for him, for more of his touch. But he keeps that single hand as his only point of contact while he leans forward again.
It's like my skin is burning beneath the touch of his fingers, longing to feel more of him. My breath quickens. I'm rewarded with a trail of tiny nips down the side of my neck. I've never felt desire like this. Every teasing touch is almost too much for me to bear. And when Dimitri's fingers flex ever so slightly around my throat, it's like he's dropped a firework into a bucket of gasoline.
My breath comes out in a frustrated gasp. Arching my back off the car behind me, I press myself into him. Every point of contact is a small triumph, but our clothes get in the way of what I really want. Desperately, I wrap one leg around his waist, trying to get just a little bit closer to achieving what I want more than anything right now. With a dark laugh he catches my leg and pulls my body flush against him, pressing into me. His other hand moves to my waist, steadying me as though he can tell how close I am to coming undone.
"Garage is better than bathroom, right?" My words are dripping with desire, and in another situation I may just be ashamed of myself. But as it is, we've already waited far, far too long for this.
Dimitri's answering smile is dark and sexy. He knows what I want, but his only verbal response is a string of Russian whispered in my ear. His mouth remains there, toying with my heart rate. And then his hot breath transforms into a teasing tug on my earlobe.
I groan. Why are our clothes still on? I'm desperate to take matters into my own hands, and my fingers move to his fly almost of their own accord.
His long fingers close around my wrist.
"I'm glad you're so eager, Roza. But bedroom is better than garage."
I bite my lip. "Are you trying to kill me?"
Dimitri laughs. "No. But it is incredibly satisfying to watch you beg."
There's a delicious twist in my stomach. I don't think I've ever been so turned on in my life. But through the layer of desire I feel a spike of indignation. He's being so unfair, toying with me while he doesn't seem to be suffering at all. So I lean forward and stretch onto my toes in order to bring my lips to his ear.
"I beg better on my knees," I whisper, echoing our conversation from so very long ago at the bar. I have the satisfaction of a ragged inhale, but something tells me it isn't enough. So I deliberately tilt my head down, looking up at him through my eyelashes.
He lets out what I assume is a curse, and a languid smile spreads across my face. For a moment it seems like I'll have my way. He moves his face to mine once more and I kiss him triumphantly. But far too soon his lips are gone, and he's gesturing across the garage.
"Come," he says, his voice low.
"I'd love to," I reply with a roll of my eyes. But that only serves to widen his grin. Dimitri threads his fingers through my own, as though he too feels adrift without my touch. He leads me to the elevator, and I feel my heart thud almost painfully as the doors slide closed. I swallow.
"Elevator is better than garage," I attempt.
Dimitri chuckles, relinquishing my hand in exchange for the chance to cup my ass. I feel his fingers edge towards the place I want them, teasing me. My resulting inhale is embarassingly loud.
"Bedroom," he repeats. "Besides. There are cameras in here."
My eyes widen, and sure enough when I glance up I spy the small black dome in the corner of the ceiling. I lean into Dimitri, and his hand shifts to the small of my back. My mind launches into various fantasies of what he could do with that arm, and I have to swallow again. From the sideways look at his smile, he's able to guess all too well what I'm thinking about.
The elevator slows, then comes to a stop. As we step out, Dimitri's hand remains on my back, and that pressure is the only thing that keeps me from sprinting to the door. It feels like we're walking through molasses. I give a frustrated sigh.
"Let me guess," Dimitri jokes, his voice smoky. "Hallway? Or door?"
As the door in question comes into view, I find that I'm not in the mood to be laughed at.
"You seem unsympathetic to my plight," I inform him with a frown. His eyes seem to dance as he looks at me. Seriously. Nobody should be allowed to be this fucking attractive. And not to mention infuriating. But I know just how to give him a taste of his own medicine. I crane my neck, and he obligingly lowers his head to kiss me. As our lips connect again, I place a hand on the warmth of his chest. For a moment it seems like he's about to give me a witty response, but it's cut short.
Dimitri's back makes a satisfying thump as it hits the wood, and I all but climb up his body in order to kiss his stupid sexy lips as thoroughly as I'd like. He groans when my tongue invades his mouth, slickly seeking his own. My hands are at his lower back, grasping him to me. I take the opportunity to slip my fingers beneath his shirt to feel the velvet of his skin. I want to touch him everywhere, to explore every inch of him with nothing in my way. My fingers edge to his waistband, echoing that moment in the dressing room when I tugged on his jeans. Except now there's much less room in them. And this time I'll make sure we both get what we want.
"You won't find my keys in there," Dimitri breathes against my lips.
He grabs my wrist, moving to pin me up against the door. He keeps my hand firmly in his grasp, raising it above my head until I'm almost on my toes. My chest heaves with indignation-since this position forces me to arch my back against the wood-and Dimitri takes full advantage of that fact by pressing himself against me.
"One moment," he says. I can feel my heart beating in my throat. Is it just me, or is his accent a little heavier?
With the hand that isn't holding me hostage, Dimitri rummages in his pocket. He slips a leg between my own to better pin me down, and by the accompanying grin I think it's safe to assume he's enjoying my frustration.
It takes a moment before he's able to extract his keys, since for some reason his pocket seems to be a bit tight. I hold back a groan as I feel the reason for the limited space against my hip. We're almost inside, I try to tell myself. But I'm seconds away from taking matters into my own hands. Literally.
As though he can read my mind, Dimitri reaches for the door handle. He's still holding my wrist, so when he pulls me to him there's a moment I'm in danger of becoming a half pretzel. However I'm not about to complain about how tightly he keeps me pressed against him as he propels us into his apartment.
In the back of my mind, I realise that the lights are already on through some rich people fuckery. But that's not exactly the type of fuckery I'm inclined to focus on at the moment. I all but jump into Dimitri's arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. He catches me against him with one arm, closing the door behind us with the other. My hands snake under his shirt again, feeling the delicious warmth of his skin beneath my palms. And the smell of him drenches my senses, making me crave things I can't even name.
He's kissing me with such fierce intensity, I'm entirely disoriented. I don't know where he begins and I end.
"On second thought," he manages between kisses, "I think couch will do."
There's a swooping feeling of victory in my chest. Dimitri takes one step towards the couch and then another, moving me backwards. His lips are unrelenting, his tongue hot and eager. My fingers skim up his spine, separating fabric from the warmth of him. He breaks away for a second, swiftly pulling his shirt over his head, and I run my hands over the sheer perfection of his body.
Our lips almost crash back together, our eagerness entirely taking over. I'm caught in the maelstrom of desire, knowing that Dimitri is my only anchor.
And then his mouth is gone.
"Jesus Tasha!"
Suddenly I'm back on my feet in the middle of Dimitri's living room, feeling like a puppet who just had its strings severed. Tasha Ozera is sitting on Dimitri's couch, typing something on her laptop. Dimitri turns away from both of us in order to snag his discarded t-shirt. As he pulls it over his head, I can see him surreptitiously adjust himself. But I'm a detached observer, and I'm left with a numb sense of shock.
Tasha is on the couch in his apartment. My brain stutters, seeming slow to accept that this isn't some kind of subconscious nightmare.
We were very clearly about to...and Tasha...
My face turns from white to red.
"You're late," Tasha calls. She sounds entirely unfazed, almost bored, but there's a harsh string of Russian in response as Dimitri turns around again.
"Fuck that, I said later," he spits. "I need you to get out."
Tasha just shrugs, not even looking up from her screen. "And I need you to think about your job instead of your dick right now."
Oh god. Is this really happening? I don't know if I'm going to start crying or screaming. Or maybe both.
I just stand there. I don't know why Tasha has a key to his apartment. Nor do I know how she has such impeccably terrible timing. But I do know that the mood is ruined, I feel like a fucking idiot, and I definitely do not want to be here. The sheer force of my humiliation seems to choke me, and I have to clear my throat twice before I'm able to speak with any volume.
"I'm going to go," I say, interrupting whatever Dimitri's next choice of expletive is. My voice is hoarse, but at least it's audible.
I turn away from the surreal scene, and raise a hand to my face as though it will hide me.
"Wait, Roza." Dimitri catches my wrist . "Please don't go."
I shake my head, feeling a strange sense of numbness begin to creep over my body. "It's fine," I say. "Just sort out whatever needs to be sorted and call me later."
I take another step, but he doesn't release his grip.
"It's just tour stuff," Dimitri insists, "it won't take long. Please stay."
Through my confusion and embarrassment, I force myself to meet his eyes. He looks earnestly apologetic, and seeing his face does something to soften my resolve. Maybe I am being a little harsh.
"Just tour stuff?" Tasha calls sharply, making me wince. She sets her laptop on the couch and rises. "Dimitri, do you realise that we have two months to plan and market this tour before you're actually on the road?"
My jaw almost drops, but Dimitri just shrugs.
"You're the one who set the dates, Tasha."
She snorts. "After consulting our marketing people. Virality doesn't last forever. We have to take advantage before you're last month's news."
Dimitri shrugs, looking wholly unaffected. But I start to feel the first seeds of anxiety take root in my stomach.
"That's really not a lot of time," I say to him quietly. I wish I could pull him to the side, maybe put a door between us and the watchful eye of his manager. While I may not like the situation, it does kind of sounds like Tasha's right. My voice regains some strength as I continue. "As much as I want to stay with you, it sounds like you guys really need to get to work."
Dimitri smiles. "You're adorable. But there's nothing to worry about. This is why we hire good people."
I feel a twinge of irritation at his blase response, echoed by a short laugh from Tasha leaning against the back of the couch. A glance shows her watching us closely, in spite of my attempt at some distance. The resulting irritation makes my response sharper than I'd intended.
"Good people still can't work miracles," I tell him. I swallow, trying to soften my tone. "And besides," I continue, "now we all need this tour to go well. Remember?"
The corner of his mouth quirks, and I feel an answering tug in my chest. I can't help the smile that sneaks onto my face as I look into his eyes, and I resist the urge to touch him. From the way his hand twitches, he's having the same problem.
But at the soft sound of Tasha's sigh, it's like Dimitri pulls a mask over his expression. His eyes flash in her direction, looking almost...guilty?
"You're together then?" Tasha asks.
I was under the impression that the answer would be yes, but I wait for Dimitri to speak. Instead he rakes a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Kind of," he says with a grimace.
Tasha looks unimpressed. "You know how this works," she says flatly.
I pull my gaze away from Dimitri's face, trying to ignore the sting of his response. There's a reason he's hesitant to tell her. But judging by Tasha's reaction, there must also be something he's not telling me.
"Tash, come on. Rose and I haven't even spent a day together."
She raises an eyebrow.
"Okay," I interject. "What am I missing?"
Dimitri shoots a glare at Tasha, which she doesn't acknowledge. She reaches up briefly to rub her temple.
"Tasha wants you to sign an NDA," Dimitri replies, his tone making it perfectly clear that he thinks it's ridiculous. But when he looks at me he gives a small smile. "So that you can't go running to the press and tell them I have a small dick."
I grin. "Is it to stop me from going to the press, or to stop me from lying?"
That actually makes him laugh. Tasha walks back over to the couch and starts doing something on her laptop, but Dimitri touches my chin and reclaims my attention. There's a furrow between his eyebrows.
"I'm sorry about this. I was kind of hoping we could have some time to just be normal people spending time together."
I squeeze his hand. "There was no chance, Comrade. Dialling you back to 'normal' from 'incredible' would be a crime."
Those dark eyes gleam with emotion, and he slowly brings his face to mine. He kisses me soft and sweet, but it's enough to take my breath away.
"If this is what I get to look forward to," I whisper as his face hovers an inch from mine, "I'll sign anything you want."
He grins, then brings his lips right up to my ear. "And I'll make all this bullshit worth your while. As soon as-"
"-Okay," Tasha pipes up suddenly. For one blissful moment I'd forgotten she was there, and the resulting fright makes me take a hasty step away from Dimitri.
Tasha walks over with her laptop, which she foists into Dimitri's hands. "I need you to look over the draft schedule for the tour, and then read through social media content proposals from the marketing team," she says in a tone that brooks no argument. Dimitri narrows his eyes, but moves towards the couch to do as he's told.
I start to follow him, but Tasha calls after me.
"This way Rose," she says, starting towards the hallway without waiting to see if I follow.
I sigh, and Dimitri shoots me a sympathetic glance. But the kiss he blows me provides the strength I need to go after her.
The hallway is longer than I remember. I resist the urge to dawdle by the pictures of Dimitri again, knowing Tasha is unlikely to be in a patient mood. I pass the bathroom where I cleaned my face, and Dimitri's studio with the door currently closed. After peeking into another two rooms, which turn out to be a bedroom and another bathroom, Tasha deigns to put me out of my misery.
"Rose, in here."
I turn in the direction of her voice and try to suppress the rising dread in my throat.
Author's Note
Thank you so much for reading! If you liked the chapter, or if you didn't and would like to tell me why, please let me know by leaving a review. It's always wonderful to read your thoughts. If you'd like to keep in the loop when I post, please feel free to favourite and follow. Things are a little crazy at the moment, so it may be a while before the next update.
Happy New Year! I'm choosing to ignore the face that February is almost over and I'm going to blame the fact that wedding planning is insane. I'm getting married at the end of April and hoo boy, I think I'm going to be very glad when it's over. Wish me luck!
The VA universe and the characters therein are the sole intellectual property of Richelle Mead
