As I head toward the main floor, I tamp down my messy hair, praying my makeup’s not too smudged and I don’t look as thoroughly destroyed as I feel.
When I reach the main floor, the shift is in full swing, everyone hustling, which makes it easier to slip back into the job without anyone paying me much attention.
Oksana spots me and her shoulders drop with relief. “Oh thank God, I thought you got kidnapped by those VIP assholes.”
“They were pretty demanding,” I say, sliding back into server mode as if I’m not leaking Kirill’s cum. “I’m so sorry it took so long.”
“Stop. It’s my fault for sending you.” She’s focused on pouring a round of drinks, but when she does look up, her brow furrows. “Are you okay? You look really flushed.”
“I’m totally fine,” I say, forcing brightness into my voice. “Just need some water and I’ll be good.”
She doesn’t look convinced but the bar’s too busy for her to press. “Okay, but let me know if you need to tap out early.”
I grab my tray and throw myself back into work, taking orders, running drinks, doing everything I’m supposed to do. But I can’t help but think about what happens after my shift. Kirill will be waiting for me. Whatever we started in his office isn’t over.
And I really, really hope he doesn’t suspect what I was actually doing up there.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
DINARA
The last hourdrags like molasses, every table is demanding, every order taking twice as long as it should.
When my shift finally ends, I slip into the locker room and change out of my uniform, pulling on jeans and a worn black leather jacket.
Oksana waves to me on my way out. “Get a good night’s sleep. You deserve it.”
I wave back as I head out the back exit. It leads to an alley that reeks of rotting garbage and stale alcohol.
Kirill’s leaning against a custom Ducati, all matte black and exposed carbon fiber. It’s sleek and gorgeous, but not as striking as his smile when he spots me.
“You ever ride one of these before?” he asks. “The bike, not the man?”
I roll my eyes. “Nope.”
He reaches behind him and produces a helmet, holding it out for me. “Always a first time for everything.”
“That seems to be the theme of the night,” I agree, since I haven’t been railed by my boss against a desk before.
He steps into my space to fasten the helmet strap, his fingers brushing my throat, and my pulse jumps. Despite the less-than-savory surroundings, he smells clean and masculine and I breathe him in deeper.
“Hold on tight and lean with me into the turns.” He swings onto the bike with practiced ease and waits for me to climb on.
When I settle behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, something bright and giddy sparks through me. He’s solid muscle and coiled power, and the engine roars to life beneath us, the vibration traveling through my whole body and settling right between my legs.
He guns the throttle and we shoot out of the alley and into the street, and suddenly it feels like we’re flying, the city blurring around us in streaks of light and shadow.
The wind tears at my clothes, whips through the gap between my helmet and collar, and I press closer to him, my chest against his back, my thighs gripping his.
We zip through Manhattan, weaving between cars that crawl compared to us. Every turn sends my stomach into a freefall, every acceleration drives me harder against him, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this free.
He takes us through Times Square where the neon makes everything look like a fever dream, then along the West Side Highway where the Hudson stretches dark and endless beside us. The city opens up here, less congested, and he pushes the bike faster.
I tighten my arms around him and he covers one of my hands with his, steering with just his right hand while his left holds mine against his abdomen. The easy way he controls this machine sends a rush of exhilaration through me.
My mind goes quiet and I let myself feel rather than think.
