The shock and confusion about that violent night faded, and with my awareness that Sergei was in the Mafia, I acclimated to being here as his guest.
I want him to know I appreciate him. All of this.
Halfway through making the dish, he came into the kitchen, groaning with hunger. “Whatever you’re making, it’s driving me crazy.”
I smiled at him, glancing over my shoulder as I stood at the stove. “Want some?”
The heated look he gave me suggested he wanted something, all right. Coming to stand next to me, he set his hands on the edge of the counter and watched me flip the chicken in the wok over another burner. “I’d love whatever you can give me.”
What exactly do you mean with that?
My cheeks heated, and it wasn’t from standing at the stove. If I had more experience with flirting, if the desire for this man didn’t make me suffer a niggling reminder of guilt to move on from my late husband, I would’ve asked him that.
“Will Maisie eat that?” he asked. A slight lift of his lips hinted at a smile. “Because I’ve learned how picky she is.”
I smiled. “She’d never be adventurous enough to try this. Not yet, at least.” I glanced up at him again, thrilled that his proximity didn’t intimidate me anymore. “She’s asleep, anyway. She had dinner earlier and went to bed an hour ago.”
“How come you’re eating so late?” He seemed content to stand there and watch me cook. The domestic moment hung heavily in my mind, and I turned to face him more.
“I wasn’t hungry earlier, and I wanted to make sure I could prepare something for you, too.”
“You don’t have to cook for me.”
I smiled.
“I like to.”
He met my gaze and that hint of heat made my blood sizzle.
The tension that lay lurking beneath the surface hadn’t disappeared. No matter how long it took me to settle in here and stop protesting that he was commandeering my life, I couldn’t shake off the desire he prompted me to feel.
It seemed like so long ago that Daria reminded me that Fitz would want me to be happy again. To not mourn him forever. Part of my hesitation to see Sergei as someone to move on with was the enigma of who he was.
Yet, I knew who he was now. I was more used to him and had picked up on his tells and quirks, his preferences and peeves. Calling us roommates didn’t do our arrangement justice. And this draw to him was something more than friendship.
“I like playing house here, Sergei, and I appreciate that I can.”
He chuffed a wry laugh before opening his mouth for me to offer him a bit of the saucy noodles to taste.
“Do you?” I asked. Once the short question was out of my mouth, I held my breath. Tense and waiting for his reply as he chewed then swallowed, all while he kept his stare on me, I licked my lips and regretted being this forward.
“Do I like your playing house here?” he asked.
I nodded, lowering my gaze as he stepped closer, behind me at the stove.
“I do.” With my back flush to his rock-hard chest, he slid his hands over my sides. Reaching in front of me, bracketing me against the stove, he found the knobs to turn off all the burners. “I’ve been driving myself insane with wanting to playwithyou.”
Shivers skated down my skin. Sagging against him, I closed my eyes and embraced the heat and security of his hugging me back to him. One arm banded over my stomach until he tugged me flush to him. With his free hand, he brushed back my hair and urged me to tilt my head. I gave him access to my neck, where he instantly pressed his hot lips. Kissing me slowly as he hugged me, he growled with a sexy grunt that made him more irresistible. As if hearing his need for me could ramp up my desire higher.
“I want to play with you, Natalie.” He stroked his fingers lower until he traced the inch of my skin exposed from my shirt lifting up. Raising my arm to cup the back of his head and keep him close had my blouse higher. “I want to play and make you feel so good that you’ll never think about ever wanting to leave.”
In other circumstances, his words could’ve been a threat. A warning. Some kind of a wicked and controlling phrase of manipulation. But with how comfortable I was with him and how much being here was starting to trick with my idea of being home, I could only smile and wish he’d make that come true.
That I’d never have to leave.
That I wouldn’t return to my lackluster life from before.
“It hasn’t crossed my mind, Sergei.” As I turned to face him more, he lifted his smoky, stormy gaze to meet mine. Inches parted us as he stared me down. Turbulent emotions zinged between us, but all I could latch on to was the desire. The need. All this lust that I couldn’t deny myself anymore.
