Is there anything this man does that isn’t sexy? Must be the wine. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just him.
The thought drifts into a spiral I can’t stop. For a second, I picture him in a late-night infomercial, shirtless, an apron hanging low, wiping counters like a wet dream with a phone number flashing at the bottom of the screen.MyMaxy, with vultures lined up to gawk and touch? Absolutely fucking not.
Scratch that daydream.
“I’ve been on my own a long time,” he says, straightening and tossing the ruined rag into the sink. “It was either learn or starve.”
My eyes drag across his chest, over the ink that coils across his muscle, and I can’t resist. “What, no personal chef? No…pretty Russian girlfriend?” I tip the rest of my wine into my mouth before I lose the nerve.
“What do you think?” His grin crooks, and it makes my thighs clench.
I’m not thinking. Just please fuck me.
My eyes widen. I don’t know if I thought it or said it. But he keeps stirring the sauce, not a single hitch in his movement, so maybe I’m safe.
Maybe.
“Can I have a taste?” My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and I catch the flicker in his gaze as it follows the motion. Maksim dips the spoon, blows once, and lifts it toward me. He never looks away as I open my mouth for him.
The flavor bursts on my tongue, and I can’t hold back a moan, throaty and louder than it should be. His jaw works tighter. “Have you ever cooked for anyone else, Maksim?”
“No.” His voice is raw. A drop slides down my chin, and his finger is there instantly, swiping it away.
I catch his wrist before he can retreat. “Just me? I’m your first?” My words drop to a murmur as I guide his hand closer, bringing his fingers to my lips. “So what you’re saying is…I popped your cherry, Ruso?”
I slide his fingers into my mouth, sucking slowly and swallowing down to the knuckle. His growl rumbles deep, shaking the space between us.
“Fuck,” he grits out, and it’s everything I want to hear.
“Maksim,” I whisper, vulnerability in my voice.
His hand crawls up my throat, his grip firm enough to make me shiver. “I’m not a righteous man. I take what I want…and ruin everything I touch.”
My palms brace against his chest as I tip my face up, lashes low. “Ruin me.”
Maksim's exhale is hot against my skin, lips dragging against my ear. “Valentina…”
“What?” The word scrapes out of me, barely there.
“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”
Seventeen
VALENTINA
“This is new.”
Remi drops onto my bed, and our eyes meet in the mirror. Her grin is all mischief as she watches my every move.
“You have something to say?” I ask. “Spit it out.”
“Please. I think you’re the one with a secret.” She props her chin in her hand, smirking. “Why are you getting all dolled up for dinner at Aunt Leni’s? It’s just family.” She pauses, eyes glittering. “Except this time, Maksim will be there. So the real question is, why are you trying to impress him?”
Secrets don’t exist between Remi and I. We know everything there is to know about each other, from our first kiss to our first times and all the messy moments in between. But this is different. This isMaksim. The boy we used to vacation with, play with, and torment for fun. Aunt Leni’s son.
What would she think of us?
What would they all think?
