11
Nikolai
I’m still smiling when I step into the kitchen. My zaychik is so wonderfully transparent in her attempts at manipulation. You promised me. It was all I could do not to grab and kiss her on the spot—especially since as she said it, she pushed out her bottom lip in a small pout, like a wheedling child.
I love that she’s less afraid of me now, that instead of horror, there’s curiosity in her pretty brown eyes. I’ve been doing my best to keep the beast inside me leashed in her presence, to make her feel comfortable and secure, and it looks like I’m succeeding—which makes all the restraint worth it. So what if my hands all but shake with the need to touch her, to press her to me tightly as I drive myself deep into her slick, warm body?
I can be patient.
I can be gentle.
I can c
