Sophia's POV

Alexander's calmness fills the elevator like gravity.

I stare at my reflection against the panel-blonde hair secured in a neat bun. Teal dress, perfect.

He slowly holds my hand and locks our fingers with gentle possessiveness. Then he meets my gaze in the panel, looking at me like I'm already his. It feels undebatable.

My breath flutters.

The first and last time I was here was by chance. This time, it's by choice.

Whatever happens to me is all on me.

Ding.

The 69th floor.

And the elevator doors open.

I clench my free fist as I follow beside him.

The drive here was quiet. Nothing surprising; his silence does all the speaking.

We're waiting until marriage. He told me that himself, yet it feels like I'm walking into dangerous storms I don't understand.

"Eleven, eleven, two..." he mutters as his fingerprint gets scanned.

I look at him.

"That's my passcode."

His passcode?

"It's the same for the private elevator."

I give him a nod, committing it to memory.

The door clicks open.

A quiet tremor rolls through my chest as we move inside.

I know to stop at the console table.

He drops his phone on it and crouches, taking out a small pair of pink fur slides. "These are yours."

"M-mine?" The word stutters out of me.

He holds my leg, and I almost choke.

"Your shoes,"

Slowly, I raise a leg, watching him unwrap the chandelier from my shin.

"Are you nervous?"

I press my lips together instead of answering.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna eat you... at least, not tonight."

My pulse slams hard, sending an ache through me.

I grip the console, releasing a deep breath. When he asks, I give him my other leg so he can unwrap my shoe.

Once my feet are inside the soft slides, he rises. They're my perfect size.

He holds my gaze now, stepping out of his dazzling black shoes into his slippers.

Just then, his phone buzzes.

My eyes flick to it on instinct.

Dimitri: {You left? Lucio said he saw you leaving with Sophia. Why?}

Alexander sighs softly, takes his phone, and types back without hesitation: {Relax. I'm just dropping her off at home. I'll see the guys later.}

Immediately, he pockets his phone and meets my eyes again, leading me inside as if the world outside this penthouse is irrelevant.

But I'm still processing what he said about 'eating'.

"Give me a minute, Soph. I'll be right back."

I respond with a nod.

He turns around, heading for his bedroom. I still remember because it's the only room on that wing.

My mind races as I watch him move with effortless elegance.

When he's out of sight, I consider taking my phone out, but the thought of seeing messages from my mom or even Dimitri worries me more than what might happen to me tonight.

I focus on my slippers instead, wishing I could take pictures of them. It's a first-time experience for me. A nice one.

And soon, he returns. Changed into a gray ribbed long-sleeve top that sticks to his entire body; two out of three buttons are undone.

He gets closer, and my mouth opens, my eyes fixed on his chest instantly-the piercings.

It's not a faint outline this time. The barbells are right there, with dangles-sharp. Obvious. I picture him without the shirt, and my breath stumbles, brain emptying. I shouldn't be staring... but I can't stop.

"Come. Let me show you around." He reaches for my hand and locks our fingers.

I follow his lead quietly, struggling to ignore all that I'm feeling and the image etched in my head at the moment.

"The living room," he says, gesturing. "You've seen most of it already."

We move into a sprawling kitchen, sleek and modern, but he doesn't linger.

"This hallway leads to the dining room, pantry, and the back entrance," he explains simply.

Then his fingers brush the small of my back to guide me forward. Heat sizzles through me.

"Let's go to the seventieth floor."

Upstairs, he pushes a door open.

"This is the library."

I stare at a vast space of books, awed into silence. Floor-to-ceiling shelves. Warm lighting. Beautiful.

"You love books," he says softly, staring at me like he knows me.

We continue.

"This is the media room. For movie nights... still setting it up, though. Maybe we can finish it together."

We?

Another door: "The gym."

We return downstairs.

"My home office is down that hallway. Just books and a desk." He says, seeming to wrap up the house tour.

Back in the living room, he pulls me a little closer.

"You've seen two of the bedrooms, including mine... What do you think?" He questions, standing tall before me.

My eyes glide over his chest before settling on his face.

"Good enough for you?"

"W-what?"

"This is where we'll live once we're married,"

I freeze.

Again, indisputable. I just stare into dark eyes, remaining quiet.

He comes closer and brushes hair away from my face.

My eyes shut in realization of how much effect he has on me. Being with him renders me speechless, thoughtless, wanting.

"Would you wait on the sofa for me?" His voice dips as his touch lingers on my face.

"Okay," I answer.

He lets me go slowly and turns, headed for the kitchen.

Now alone, I walk to the large sofa, fingers curling on my purse when I sit. My chest won't stop growing tight as I wonder what comes next.

In a few minutes, he's back, a large bowl in one hand and a bottle of wine with two glasses in the other.

I instantly smell popcorn.

He drops the bowl on the sofa before sitting at the other end.

My eyes fall to it. The sweet smell wafts into my nostrils, making my throat dry.

Seated in the middle, I watch him place the wine and glasses on the coffee table.

After uncorking, he fills both glasses.

"Yours," he says, giving me one.

I hold the stem, feeling my stomach flip.

He lifts his glass to mine, and we clank them.

Seconds pass as we stare at each other until he takes a sip of his wine.

I take more than a sip, hoping my nerves would calm.

Then he drops his glass and meets my gaze. There's a soft smile on his face that naturally sends warmth to mine.

"Come sit on my lap, Sophia." He suddenly utters, voice low and relaxed.

I stop breathing.

He stares, waiting like it's the most normal thing.

My brain goes into an instant overdrive. But slowly, I rise, thinking: I was on his lap when we kissed. My purse slips off my shoulder onto the seat.

Wine in hand, I obey, going over to him.

His dark eyes don't stray once, glued to me, raising when I get to him.

Standing before his knees, I lower myself onto his lap. Too carefully.

And the worst happens.

His thighs part because I sit with half-butt. I nearly slip, but his hands close around my waist to steady me.

"Easy," he murmurs, holding firmly, taking my wine glass from me. "I've got you."

The warmth of his hands, the solidness of his chest against my back-it short-circuits every thought in my head.

He drops my glass first, then adjusts me until I'm settled properly on his thighs, my legs draped and dangling beside his.

When I stare at him, embarrassment washes over me, prickling my skin.

"First attempts can be messy..." he says, slipping his right arm around my lower back. "Comfortable?"

I swallow hard and give him a nod.

"Popcorn?" He offers, raising the bowl.

I slowly dip my hand inside, scooping some. He does the same, before dropping the bowl.

We chew in silence, eyes locked.

His dark gaze punches heat through me.

"Tell me something you enjoy," he says, voice quiet but genuine.

I glance at the popcorn briefly, until my gaze accidentally drifts to... his chest.

"Football," I answer.

His shirt clings too well. Metal pressed against large pecs. The outlines-clear as day.

My brain fogs. I curl my toes in my slides.

"American football or-?"

I lift my eyes quickly, seeing the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"European," I mumble, fighting the urge to look again. "Europeans never say s-soccer. I got to enjoy it in London..."

"So, you call it Football... wasn't expecting that..." He says and puts popcorn in his mouth, eating. "What's your team?"

"On some days, it's Chelsea. Manchester United on other days..." My eyes track back to his piercings.

"Sophia," he murmurs.

I look at him. My lips fold. My breath trembles softly.

"If you keep looking at my chest like that," he says, voice lowering dangerously. "I'm going to think you want to touch them."

My entire body lights on fire.

"I-I wasn't-"

His gaze darkens, stealing my voice, breath, and daring me to deny it. I'm unable to.

Strong arms pull me close, suddenly yet slowly.

My breath hitches.

He stretches a hand and pulls a small box from beneath the coffee table.

It opens, and my eyes fall to an array of precious, chocolate-colored cigars. He picks one.

"You want to feel them, don't you?" His palm slides a little higher on my waist. It sends goosebumps all over me.

He leans closer to my ear and says so quietly, "They're sensitive. But I'll let you touch them... only if you let me touch you, too."

I can't breathe or speak. I just stare at him, my head floating in realization that I'm not stopping this.

"I'll take that as a yes." He utters firmly.

Sophia's POV

I shudder in shock, watching him light the cigar with a soft click. I've never been this close to a man doing something so... intimate.

But he's going to touch me?? Where?

He brings the cigar to his lips, eyes fixed on me. The ember glows. He leans back, exhaling a slow cloud that curls like mist around us. It mixes with his cologne, and I nearly sway from the scent.

I stare, unable to peel my eyes off dangerously dark eyes.

He takes out the cigar and smokes in my face, "You go first... I'll go second."

Go first?

I'm going to... touch him?

My head feels dizzy.

"I'm going to smoke through it, so satisfy your curiosity." He adds before putting the cigar back in his mouth.

He suddenly claps, and the lights go out. Total darkness folds around us, velvety and charged with everything wrong.

A cold settles on me, and I hear my heart drumming.

Before I can think, he takes my right hand, guiding it to his... chest.

My lungs seize at the feel of tiny barbells.

He exhales tobacco, chest jerking slightly.

My skin tingles, my stomach clenching tight.

He releases my hand, and I see the embers glow as he smokes in the dark. It fills my lungs and senses. But my fingers move, tracing the shape, the dangle.

A pleasurable tremor passes through my body, desire taking over me.

He grips my hand again, guiding me into the opening of his shirt.

A small breath slips out of me as I feel his warm skin, hard, smooth chest-rising and falling, cold ring. And his... nipple.

My hand begins trembling, my chest rising with HOTNESS.

I freeze, not knowing what to do when he lets go, terrified of how my body is responding already. Scared of doing it wrong. Scared of what this might become.

"You can stroke it with your fingers," he mutters.

His arm tightens around me, his breath deep and warm against my cheek.

I brush the dangle with a finger before withdrawing my hand.

I lean into him, shaking slightly as I hold my fingers together-fingers that touched him.

He's still. Too still.

My brain lacks understanding of what just happened or what I did, if I did anything.

"D-did I h-hurt you?" I mumble, ashamed of how shaky I sound.

I've never touched any man like this before. I've never touched any man in my life. I know nothing.

His lips spread against my face. "No, Love... not one bit... I have a lot to teach you, but not tonight."

His chest rises against my shoulder, his right hand brushes my hip, then he lifts his head.

"My turn."

He strokes my arm, slowly, deliberating. Breathing.

Seconds pass, and then he whispers, "Let me touch you the way you touched me... take off your bra."

My mind goes white with shock.

My pulse ricochets everywhere-throat, ribs, my core. I'm not sure I'm breathing anymore.

"Don't worry. I can't see you... You can get up to do it. But you'll come back," he adds softly and takes his hand off me, like he knows I'll get up.

My thoughts trip over themselves. My fingers keep trembling even when I lace them, heart racing like an F1 car.

My body moves, and I get off him.

I take a step forward in the dark as I shiver.

From the sides of my halter-neck dress, shaky fingers reach for my adhesive bra. Yet I pause, hesitating, wanting to back out if it's an option.

My brain worries about everything-what I'll feel, what he'll do, what he'll think about my inherited big boobs that make me insecure, how wrong this feels, yet I want it.

"Sophia?"

"Mm?" I choke, unable to believe what is happening.

"Come here."

"I've-I've not-"

"It's okay. Just come."

I turn around slowly and move back to him.

When he says nothing else, I lower myself on his lap again.

The second his arms wrap around me, my body tenses, my fists clenching.

"Relax, Sophia," he whispers, pulling me against his chest.

My chest rises and falls rapidly.

"You have nothing to be worried about... You made me feel good. I want to make you feel better..." His lips pause on my ear, warm and enticing.

I release a breath and shut my eyes, deciding before I bolt in fear.

"Okay?"

I nod without meaning to.

"I'll close my eyes. I promise." He says, putting his cigar away.

I reach for my bra, despite the noise in my head.

Slowly, hands trembling, I peel it off and pull it out from the side, unable to check if he's watching me in the dark. I fear my heart may not take it if I catch him staring.

I let it drop on the sofa and steady my breath. The freedom it offers terrifies me.

"You done?"

"Mm," I reply.

"Sit with your knees out. Back against my chest."

I do as I'm told, clumsily, but obeying.

When my back touches his chest, heat radiates from him like second skin, cocooning me.

I tighten my fists, keeping my eyes closed despite the darkness.

Nothing happens for a moment.

Then Alexander's palms slither into my dress from the halter opening.

My breath fractures instantly. Heat spreads from his hands to my entire body, tantalizing yet terrifying.

My chest swells on its own, nails digging into my palms.

"Relax," he says very softly as large hands cover me completely, encasing me.

I breathe hard and loud, squirming when he starts moving his hands.

My hands lift to touch his, to slow him a little. But-

"Don't do anything until I say you should," he gruffs in my ear. "Just feel."

I drop my hands back despite my chest feeling like it's about to combust.

"Let yourself go, Soph... listen to my voice. Feel... and breathe."

A distressed moan is forced out of me. I curl my fingers in my lap, clutch my dress so tightly. Squeeze my toes till my slippers slip off my feet.

Heat fills me up.

Another sound slips out of my lips-a softer one. Unrecognizable.

"That's it..." He whispers, caressing. "You're so soft... and warm."

My head swims, body relaxing. I lean further into him.

"Arch your back like you did for me the other day..."

Slowly, I curve my spine.

He presses. Tenderly.

My breath escapes me in a warm, helpless sound.

"Good girl..." he says, kissing my jaw, my throat, my cheek.

Instinctively, my head turns, seeking his lips-seeking some form of familiarity, but he buries his nose somewhere I can't find.

"Lean in. And do it again."

I obey, breath faltering.

Every inch of me feels tuned to him, sensitive, waiting.

"Now put your whole body into it."

Breathless, I curve again, hands trembling as my stomach suspends.

Suddenly, he shifts beneath me, lowering one leg so that I'm seated on only his right thigh.

"Don't stop moving... " He murmurs just before my body goes still.

The air starts to shift. Thicken. And something is shot straight to my core. It leaks down to where my legs part.

My whole body floats, unraveling under his hands, in his lap. My head rolls on his chest. I lose track of everything-where my hands are, if I'm breathing. And right there, where his thigh is, I feel a soft thump–foreign, hot.

"You're doing so well..."

Piece by piece, I lose brain cells.

He sits up, anchoring my back, lips pressed to my ear. The heat of his body curls around me, all-consuming. His hands are unrelenting.

"Grip my leg, Soph..."

I can't feel my hands.

"Baby girl?" He kisses my cheek.

Sluggishly, my hands find his thigh, holding on as I sigh.

"Glide." His voice drops, scraping sinfully down my spine. "Easy, slowly..."

And in a few seconds, I'm pushed forward with his chest.

"Keep going... then come back."

I move, then drag myself back.

The effect is instant.

My breathing fractures into a deep moan. My body turns cold and hot at the same time.

The soft thump quickens.

Overwhelmed, I freeze and press my thighs together.

His hands slow. He slips them out of my dress to pull me close.

Eyes closed, I crumble against him, panting softly, strengthless, confused.

The sensation doesn't stop-new, unfamiliar, involuntary, wrong yet pleasant.

He plants a kiss on my head and begins stroking my arm gently.

"That's my girl."