The dorm room was a chaotic little hellhole, a battlefield of textbooks, empty coffee cups, and a questionable sock or two draped over a chair like a defeated soldier. Nastya lounged on her bed, one leg dangling off the edge, flipping through a biology textbook with the kind of mock seriousness that could win an Oscar. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, and her sharp green eyes glinted with something dangerous—boredom, the most perilous state for a woman like her.
Across the room, sprawled on a beanbag chair like he owned the place, was Murad. All cheekbones and cocky grins, the guy from the Caucasus had a way of filling any space with his presence. His black leather jacket was tossed over a desk, and his dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he tossed a pen in the air, catching it with infuriating ease.
“So, Nastya,” he drawled, his accent rolling over her name like honey over rough stone, “you think you’re gonna ace this anatomy exam, or are you just gonna draw dicks on the answer sheet?”
She snorted, not even looking up from her book. “Please, Murad. I could sketch every bone in the human body blindfolded. Meanwhile, you’re probably still figuring out which end of the stethoscope goes in your ear.”
He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the cramped room. “Oh, come on, firecracker. You know I’m a hands-on learner. Theory’s boring. I like… practical application.”
Nastya slammed her textbook shut with a dramatic thud, her lips curling into a wicked smirk. She propped herself up on her elbows, her gaze locking onto his like a predator sizing up prey. “Speaking of practical, I’ve got a confession. I’ve never seen a circumcised dick in real life. Kinda pathetic, right? All these years of bio, and I’m missing out on basic fieldwork.”
Murad’s eyebrows shot up, his smirk widening into something downright devilish. He leaned back in the beanbag, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Damn, girl. What a tragically sheltered life you’ve led. I’m almost crying for you over here.”
She rolled her eyes so hard it was practically audible, swinging her legs off the bed to sit up straight. “Oh, spare me the pity, mountain boy. You’re sitting right there, a walking cultural exhibit. So, enlighten me.” She pointed at him, her finger jabbing the air like a command. “Show and tell. Now.”
He barked out a laugh, clutching his chest in mock offense. “What am I, a museum piece? You’re a nosy little dictator, aren’t you? But fine, I’m game—if you’re brave enough to look. Don’t faint on me, princess.”
Nastya scoffed, crossing her arms under her chest, which only served to draw his gaze for a split second before he dragged it back to her face. “Brave? Please. I’ve dissected frogs without flinching. You think I can’t handle a little peek? I’m calling your bluff, Murad. Prove you’re not all talk, or shut up.”
The air in the room crackled, charged with a playful tension that danced along the edge of something more. Murad stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, his grin spreading like the Cheshire Cat’s as his hands hovered over his belt. “Alright, alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. This is premium content, Nastya. Limited edition.”
She leaned forward, her curiosity warring with her ironclad need to stay in control. Her voice snapped like a whip. “Hurry up, then. I don’t have all day to wait for your grand reveal. Some of us have actual studying to do.”
He chuckled, his fingers teasing at the buckle, drawing out the moment. “Patience, dictator. But hey, since we’re doing this, maybe just looking isn’t enough. You wanna really understand the cultural difference? Maybe you should… taste it. You know, for the full experience.”
Nastya burst into laughter, the sound sharp and unrestrained, her head tipping back as she clutched her stomach. “Oh my God, you absolute horny mountain goat. What, you think I’m gonna fall for that? You’re ridiculous.”
But she didn’t immediately shoot down the idea. Her laughter faded, and her eyes narrowed, a flicker of intrigue sparking in their depths. The room grew quieter, the joking tone shifting into something heavier, thicker, like the air before a storm. She tilted her head, studying him, her lips pursed as if weighing the audacity of his suggestion against her own insatiable curiosity.
Finally, she straightened, her bossy exterior snapping back into place like armor. “Fine. But let’s get one thing straight, Murad. This is purely scientific. I’m inspecting for research purposes only. You better not get any stupid ideas in that thick head of yours. No funny business. Got it?”
He raised his hands in surrender, but his voice dripped with suggestion, low and teasing. “Crystal clear, professor. Take your time with the research. I’m an open book… or, well, an open belt.”
Her heart raced, though she’d die before letting him see it. Nastya’s carefully constructed wall of control cracked just enough to reveal a sliver of anticipation, her breath catching as Murad’s fingers finally moved to unbuckle his belt, the metallic clink echoing in the suddenly too-small room. She kept her gaze steady, her chin high, refusing to back down from the challenge she’d thrown at his feet. But inside, a wildfire of curiosity burned, and for once, she wasn’t entirely sure who was in charge of this game.
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