Pleasure crashes through me, sharper this time, my whole body tightening around his fingers as I come with a broken cry. He kisses me through it, swallowing every helpless sound while I shake against him.
He slows, drawing it out until I’m limp and trembling, then eases his fingers away and rests his forehead against mine.
For a few seconds neither of us speaks.
My chest rises and falls too fast. His breathing is no better.
I open my eyes first. And then reality starts inching back in.
The restaurant. The woman outside. The fact that we are in a bathroom.
I let out a breath that’s half laugh, half panic. “This is a disaster.”
He studies my face. “Possibly.”
“You are on a date.”
“Not anymore.”
That should make me feel better. And it does, a little.
Then, before I can stop myself, I ask, “What are you going to tell her?”
His hand slides down my calf, grounding me. “The truth.”
I blink. “Which part?”
“That I’m leaving.”
“And the rest?”
His gaze settles on my mouth again. “The rest,” he says, “is none of her business.”
He kisses me once, softer now, and helps me down from the counter. My knees wobble. He catches my waist automatically.
I glance at the torn lace on the floor and then back up at him. “You owe me new underwear.”
His mouth curves. “I’ll buy you ten pairs.”
“You are not picking out my underwear.”
“We’ll see.”
I snort, then immediately wince because my whole body still feels like it’s humming.
He notices, and his expression darkens with satisfaction. “Can you walk?”
I straighten as best I can. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction of answering that honestly.”
That gets another quiet laugh out of him, and the sound does something helpless to my insides. Then he reaches for the door handle, pauses, and looks back at me.
“Stay here for one minute,” he says. “Then come out. I’ll take care of the rest.”
I hesitate. “Aleksei.”
He waits.
I lower my voice. “What are we doing?”
