Trixie

CHAPTER 4

TRIXIE

For a split second, I couldn’t breathe.

The moment my eyes landed on Zahar, every single part of me—mind, body, soul—exploded awake like I’d been asleep for five years and someone just turned the sun back on.

I had imagined this moment so many times that the real thing almost knocked me off my feet.

He was… God.

Taller than before. Broader. Older in the kind of way that made every cell in my body react. His hair was darker than I remembered, falling a little longer over his forehead. His beard was thicker, framing his jaw in a way that felt unfair. His shoulders looked like they’d been carved out of stone. And the suit—black, perfect, expensive—wrapped around him like even fabric was in love with him.

And then he looked at me.

His eyes—those icy, unreadable eyes—widened just slightly. Enough to notice. Enough to make heat rush to my cheeks and gather between my thighs.

But it was when he opened his mouth…

When he said my name…

“Trixie?”

My body reacted before my brain. Before logic. Before shame. Before everything.

The sound of my name in his deep, rough, impossibly masculine voice vibrated down my spine so hard my knees almost buckled. My nipples tightened instantly under my dress, painfully sensitive. My breath caught. My heart jumped straight into my throat.

I didn’t even know if he said it in confusion—because I was grown—or amusement, or shock.

All I knew was that I needed him.

Now.

I ran.

No—raced. Fled. Tore down the stairs so fast I nearly tripped, the air rushing past my ears, my chest heaving. Dad said something—maybe my mom too. I didn’t hear. I didn’t care.

I reached the bottom in seconds and launched myself at him.

Literally launched.

My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, like my body remembered him even if five years had passed. My arms locked around his neck, my cheek pressing into the warm, solid thickness of his shoulder. My breasts crushed against his hard chest, my nipples brushing him through my dress and his shirt.

And between my legs, Oh God.

My core landed directly on the bulge of his crotch.

Heat shot through me so violently I almost moaned into his neck. I squeezed my thighs around him tighter without meaning to, forcing myself against him even more.

His hands moved fast—one gripping my back, the other catching under my thigh to steady me. His touch burned.

He smelled like cedar, winter air, and something darker… a scent that wrapped around my brain and made every coherent thought flee.

He let out a low laugh—deep, warm, familiar.

“Printsessa…” he murmured against my ear. “I missed you too.”

His voice. God, his voice.

I clung to him even harder.

He chuckled again, patting my back like he was comforting a small child. Except I was not a child. Not anymore. And every part of me pressed against him right now was screaming that.

“You’re not my little princess anymore,” he said softly. “You’re too grown to be jumping into my arms like this.”

The words made my stomach drop.

Too grown.

Too old to be his princess.

Too old to be held like this.

Panic burst through me. I tightened my grip until my fingers pressed into his neck, refusing to let go. Hot tears spilled instantly, surprising even me.

“No no no,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Don’t say that. Don’t...” My words dissolved into sobs. “I thought you were gone. I thought something happened to you. You just left. You left, uncle Zahar, you didn’t say anything... I thought...”

My voice cracked completely. I buried my face deeper into him, sobbing into the warm skin of his neck. My tears slid down his collar, dampening his shirt.

His entire body went still.

“Trixie…” he murmured, smoothing a hand over the back of my head. “Hey. Printsessa, don’t cry.”

But I did. Harder.

Five years of worry. Five years of wondering. Five years of praying he would come home and hating myself for loving him. It all poured out like a flood.

Behind us, my father laughed—loud, full, amused.

“I warned you,” Dad teased. “Trixie cried the whole night after you left. You should’ve heard her. You better make it up to her, Zahar.”

Zahar sighed softly, his breath brushing my ear. His hands rubbed soothing circles over my back.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured. “Trixie… Printsessa… enough tears, hm?”

But I only sobbed louder.

Until he leaned close and whispered, “I brought you something. Something special. But I can only give it to you if you stop crying.”

My crying hiccupped to a halt instantly.

He chuckled again, low and warm. “There she is.”

Slowly, reluctantly, I loosened my grip. My legs slid down from around his waist. My feet touched the ground. My arms remained around his neck for a second longer before I forced myself to let go.

The moment I stepped back, my heart still hammering, my knees shaking, I made the mistake of looking down.

And I saw it.

The outline.

The thick, unmistakable, hard outline pushing against his suit pants.

My breath caught.

He... He was hard.

My heartbeat stopped. Restarted far too fast. Heat climbed up my neck, covering my cheeks like fire.

Was it me?

Did I do that?

Did holding me… my body against his… my legs around him… my chest pressed to his…

Did that turn him on?

The thought made every inch of my skin spark.

I forced my eyes upward before anyone noticed what I was staring at—but Zahar’s gaze met mine the moment my head lifted.

His eyes were darker now.

He wasn’t smiling.

And for one second—just one—his gaze dropped to my lips. Then lower. To my chest. To where my nipples strained against my dress.

Heat punched between my thighs.

He looked away quickly, clearing his throat, his jaw clenching like he’d just caught himself doing something forbidden.

Dad, oblivious, slapped him on the shoulder and said something about drinks. Mom called for the maids. The house buzzed with excitement.

But Zahar... Zahar kept glancing at me.

Small, quick glances.

Like he couldn’t help himself.

And the tent in his pants didn’t go away.

I didn’t know if I was imagining it.

But I swear…

I swear his body reacted to me the way mine reacted to him.

And that terrified me.

Thrilled me.

Destroyed me.

Because if Zahar Litvin felt even a fraction of what I felt, then nothing in this house would ever be the same again.

Even if he were to disappear on me again, I won't let it happen until he fucked me!