PAVEL'S POV
I take a deep breath and circle my hands around Asya's waist. It doesn't matter what I promised. I can't make myself do anything that may lead to triggering her trauma, even if it means going back on my word. Focusing on her face, I hook my fingers in the waistband of her sweatpants and start pulling them down, inch by agonizingly slow inch. If I notice even a speck of distress, we're stopping. Then, I slide my palms up her legs, over her panties, and pull up on the hem of her top. She smiles and lifts her arms, shaking out her dark hair as the shirt comes free of her body. Unclasping the bra, Asya tosses it to the floor and stands in front of me, clad only in her panties. She tries to make herself look unfazed, but I see the restrained terror in her eyes. And also, the fierce determination to show me that she won't cave, no matter what I say. I caress her face and lean forward until we're nose to nose.
