The door to Vasily’s apartment swung open with a creak, revealing a dimly lit space that looked like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a bachelor pad or a bohemian hideout. A faint haze of sandalwood incense curled through the air, mixing with the earthy musk of gym gear tossed haphazardly in a corner. Eva, a petite 23-year-old with a cascade of blonde hair and a chest that could stop traffic, strode in with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly how to command a room. Her portable massage table was slung over one shoulder like it weighed nothing, though her sharp green eyes scanned the clutter with a mix of amusement and disdain.
“Alright, beefcake, let’s get one thing straight,” she said, kicking the door shut behind her with a booted heel. “I’m not tripping over your protein shake bottles or whatever sad kettlebell shrine you’ve got going on here. Clear some space in this pigsty, or I’m charging you double for hazard pay.”
Vasily, a towering figure of pure, chiseled perfection, leaned against the doorway to his kitchen, a smirk playing on his lips. His dark hair was tousled just enough to look effortless, and his biceps—God help her—flexed subtly as he crossed his arms. He was shirtless already, a pair of low-slung sweatpants clinging to his hips like they were doing her a personal favor. “Hazard pay, huh? Didn’t know I was booking a drill sergeant instead of a masseuse,” he drawled, his voice a low rumble that could melt butter. “But fine, princess. Point me to the mess, and I’ll play maid for you.”
Eva arched a brow, setting her table down with a deliberate thud in the middle of his living room. “Princess? Oh, honey, you’re gonna regret that one. I’m the queen of this operation, and you’re just the lucky peasant getting my hands on you. Now move that stack of fitness mags before I use them to spank some sense into you.”
His laugh was a deep, throaty sound that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine as he sauntered over, brushing past her close enough that she caught a whiff of his clean, masculine scent beneath the incense. He scooped up the magazines and a stray dumbbell, tossing them onto a nearby couch with a flex that was absolutely not accidental. “Better, Your Majesty?” he teased, turning to face her with a grin that promised trouble. “Or do I need to bow too?”
“Keep that up, and I’ll have you on your knees before the hour’s out,” she shot back, her tone dripping with playful menace as she unfolded her table with practiced ease. “Now strip down to whatever you’re comfortable with—though judging by the lack of shirt, I’m guessing modesty isn’t your thing—and lie face down. Let’s see if those muscles are just for show or if they’ve got some real tension to work out.”
Vasily’s eyes glinted with mischief as he kicked off his sweatpants, revealing tight black briefs that left little to the imagination. He sprawled out on the table without a hint of self-consciousness, his broad back a canvas of taut, golden skin. “All yours, boss lady. Do your worst.”
Eva bit the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting, pouring a generous amount of warm oil into her hands. She wasn’t about to let this cocky gym bro get under her skin, no matter how much of a Greek god he looked like lying there. “Oh, I will,” she muttered, her voice laced with mock threat. “But don’t cry when I find every knot in this overcompensating physique of yours. What do you even do with all this bulk? Bench press your ego every morning?”
His muffled chuckle vibrated through the table as her hands made contact with his skin, gliding over the hard planes of his shoulders with firm, professional strokes. “Nah, just gotta keep up with feisty little firecrackers like you. Wouldn’t want you thinking you can push me around too easy.”
“Push you around?” she scoffed, digging her thumbs into a particularly tight spot near his shoulder blade, earning a low grunt from him. “Sweetheart, I could have you begging for mercy with one flick of my wrist. Don’t test me.”
“Promises, promises,” he murmured, his voice husky now, sending a rogue flutter through her chest. She ignored it, focusing on the rhythm of her movements, the slick heat of the oil under her fingers, the way his muscles yielded just enough to remind her how strong he really was. She was in control here. She had to be.
But then her hands slid lower, tracing the curve of his lower back, and her fingers accidentally brushed just a hair too close to the edge of his briefs. A jolt shot through her, electric and unexpected, her breath catching in her throat. Her hands froze for a split second before she forced them to keep moving, but the heat in the room seemed to spike, the sandalwood haze thickening around them.
“Careful there, queen,” Vasily’s voice cut through the silence, low and teasing, his head still resting on his folded arms but his tone betraying that he’d felt it too. “Thought you were all business. Or are you just testing my limits?”
Eva’s cheeks burned, but she wasn’t about to let him see her rattled. She leaned down close to his ear, her voice a sharp whisper as her hands resumed their steady pressure. “Don’t flatter yourself, big guy. That was just a preview of how deep I can go if you keep running that mouth. Behave, or I’ll make sure you feel every inch of my control.”
He turned his head slightly, just enough for their eyes to lock, and the slow, predatory grin that spread across his face made her pulse hammer. “I’m counting on it,” he said, his gaze burning into hers, a silent challenge that promised this massage was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
She straightened up, her heart racing but her smirk firmly in place. Fine. If he wanted to play, she’d show him who ruled this game. The heat in the room wasn’t just from the incense anymore, and Eva knew she was treading dangerous waters—but damn if she wasn’t ready to dive in.
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