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His free hand slides up the collar of my bathrobe, subtly brushing his fingers against the skin of my breastbone. I shudder, my lips parting as I attempt and fail to subdue my reaction. Then, in one violent go, he shoves the bathrobe down. My breasts bounce from their confinement, and the belt opens, revealing my black boxer briefs. I gasp as the reality of the situation comes into focus. Not only am I half naked, but I’m also not moving or attempting to cover myself. Why am I not moving…? Kirill slides his finger from the pulse point of my neck, down to my collarbone, and then over the slope of my breasts. A strange sound echoes in the air, and I realize with utter horror that it came from me. I’ve never been touched by this level of blinding control before. There’s no hesitation or slow exploration like I experienced with my high school boyfriend. And Kirill is definitely not a boy. He’s a man who knows exactly what he’s doing and handles me with nonnegotiable firmness. I’m paralyzed