Chapter 1: Morning Sparks
The sun crept through the curtains of their cozy Moscow apartment, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. Dasha stood by the kitchen counter, her dark hair tied in a messy bun, wearing a simple tank top and shorts that hugged her athletic frame. She was slicing vegetables with precision, her movements sharp and confident, as if she hadn’t been away for two long months. Kirill leaned against the doorway, his broad shoulders relaxed, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watched her. The air between them buzzed with unspoken tension, a silent acknowledgment of the time apart.
“You know, I could help with that,” Kirill offered, his voice a low rumble, teasing. He stepped closer, his bare feet silent on the floor, his gray t-shirt clinging to his toned chest. “I’m not completely useless in the kitchen.”
Dasha shot him a sidelong glance, her green eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, please. Last time you ‘helped,’ I ended up with a burned pan and a lecture on patience. I’ve got this, handsome. Just enjoy the view.” She smirked, turning back to her task, but not before catching the way his gaze lingered on her curves.
Kirill chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Trust me, I’m enjoying it. Two months without you, and I’m practically starving for more than just breakfast.” He moved behind her, his presence warm and commanding, and wrapped his arms around her waist. His breath tickled her ear as he murmured, “Missed you, Dash. More than you know.”
She paused, her knife hovering over a carrot, feeling the heat of his body pressed against her back. “Oh, I think I’ve got an idea,” she quipped, her voice dripping with sass, though her heart raced. She’d gotten used to the solitude on her trip, but now, with him so close, she realized just how much she’d craved this. His hands slid lower, gripping her hips with a possessive edge, and she arched into him instinctively.
“Careful, or I might just take you right here on the counter,” he teased, his lips brushing against her neck, sending sparks skittering across her skin. His fingers dug into her ass, firm and deliberate, and she let out a sharp breath.
Dasha turned in his arms, her eyes locking with his, a challenge sparking in her gaze. “You think I’d let you have it that easy? You’ve got to earn it, Kirill.” Her tone was playful but laced with authority as she pushed against his chest, guiding him backward toward the living room. “Bedroom. Now.”
He grinned, his eyes darkening with desire. “Bossy as ever. I love it.” They stumbled through the doorway, lips crashing together in a hungry kiss, all teeth and tongue, as if they could devour the distance of the past two months. Her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal the hard planes of his chest, while his fingers slipped under her tank top, skimming the soft skin of her waist.
They reached the bedroom, and Kirill didn’t hesitate, lifting her with ease and laying her down on the unmade bed. Their clothes became a frantic tangle on the floor as they stripped each other bare, hands roaming with desperate need. Dasha’s breath hitched as his touch ignited every nerve, her body awakening to him after so long. She wasn’t about to play the passive role—she pulled him closer, her nails grazing his back, her voice a husky command. “Show me how much you missed me.”
Kirill’s smirk was wicked as he hovered over her, his eyes burning with intent. “Oh, I plan to.” His hands explored her, massaging her curves with a reverence that made her pulse race, while her own fingers trailed down to tease him, feeling him grow hard under her touch. The air grew thick with their shared heat, the promise of what was coming next hanging heavy between them.
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