Chapter Five
Anna
I feel his manhood pressing against me, grinding against my sex and for a second I think I can just sink into the lust.
I can forget about self-doubt and self-consciousness and just be.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and squeeze close to him.
The confusion falls away under the steaming presence of his lust, the fierceness of the moment blossoming inside of me in a series of bullet-like strikes.
Bang, bang, bang, the heat thuds into me, spreading to every part of me.
I sink deeper into the kiss and let my desire guide me, my tongue tingling like there are freaking electrodes attached to it or something, my body buzzing and blisteringly alive for the first time I can remember.
But then the voices start whispering in my head, those familiar self-doubting voices, telling me I’m an idiot if I think I’m going to be able to please Artem Elgort.
And he knows.
That’s the thing that sends the most frustration catapulting through me.
He knows that I’m a virgin, that I’m inexperienced, and yet he’s still putting me in this position and expecting me to perform.
“Anna,” he growls, leaning back slightly when I pause in our animal kissing. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
Suddenly terror touches me.
What happens if I don’t perform?
But he talked about motherhood.
He talked about claiming me.
He said I was his and, even if it makes me a little bit crazy, I believed him.
I believe him.
He leans back and regards me with those steady brown eyes.
“Anna, the first time I saw you, I knew you were mine. I felt it. I’ve never been a sentimental man. I’ve never been allowed to be. But I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say I felt it in my soul. I can read you. And something’s wrong. I can see it. So tell me.”
I slide off the counter and let out a breath. My body still feels vivacious and buzzing with the closeness, with his hands making patterns on my back. My sex feels sticky and wet as I walk to the other side of the room, near my abandoned salad, and heave a sigh.
“What exactly do you think’s going to happen here?” I mutter. “I mean, jeez … Look … I …”
“Anna,” he says quietly.
He walks up behind me and places his hands softly on my shoulders, more softly than I ever would’ve guessed a man of Artem’s size could touch somebody.
“I know that this must be frightening for you, but I meant it when I said you’re mine. I’d never hurt you. So whatever you want to say, you can say it. You don’t have to be scared of me. Ever. I’ll protect you, always. If a dozen thugs came through that door right now and tried to hurt you, there’d be a dozen broken crumpled fucking bodies on the floor. You’re mine. And I’m a loyal man. I protect what’s mine.”
I lean back into his embrace, feeling the security of his hands, giant powerful hands that feel capable of handling anything that life throws at them.
“I just don’t want to be humiliated,” I whisper, feeling a weight lift off my chest. “You know I’m a virgin. And, well, what exactly do you think I’m going to do? I’ve been humiliated so many times in my life. Getting kidnapped, well, that was just the same. Hey, come to this restaurant and cook a taster dish for me. Maybe we’ll give you a job. And then I get there, and what happens? A black bag over my head and I’m dragged into the back of a truck.”
I laugh and shiver at the same time, a curious combination. The laugh is grim.
Artem squeezes my shoulders.
“I’ll never let anything like that happen to you again, but you’re not going to be humiliated tonight, Anna. I don’t care that you’re a virgin. No, that’s not right. I do care. I fucking love it. When I saw you, I knew I had to have you. But when I heard you were a virgin, too, I knew I’d die if I didn’t have you. It’s too perfect.”
“What’s perfect about it?” I rage, spinning and facing him. “The fact that when we get into the bedroom, I’ll have no idea what to do? Let’s face it, Artem. Let’s just be blunt about it.”
Somehow, I feel able to speak up with Artem where I never did before. His words have caused a ricochet of confidence to move through me, a nascent sense of belonging I wish I could just sink into, grow with.
And yet there’s this underlying whisper, too, that I’m just not good enough.
“Let’s face it,” I go on, firmer now. “You’ve had experience, haven’t you? You’re one of the richest men alive. You’re really, really hot. You’re smart. You’re – well – you’ve got it all, Artem. You’ve probably had legions of women throw themselves at you.”