Overwhelmed, Lili glances down at his lips—and he kisses her.
With a hot gasp, her mouth opens, and thetasteof him again—a moan slips between their lips, her own, and a shiver runs sharp up her spine, the heat of his tongue in her mouth. Her fingers curl in his collar, drawing him closer. The force of the kiss pushes her back, as he kisses her like he wants to eat her, like he wants to carve out space for himself inside of her, and it sears a great, hidden, savage joy: that he wants her like this, that he’s missed her like this; that the immensity of her own want finds an unbelievable match in him.
Thoughts blurring, Lili gasps for breath. Aleksandr pulls away, letting her catch some air. He grins at her frown, resting his forehead against hers.
“You look handsome,” she breathes, placing her hand against his cheek. Grasping her wrist, Aleksandr turns her palm and kisses it.
“You look stunning,” he says. A small crease furrows his brow, confusion with a smile, as he inhales the hollow of her wrist, brushing her thin gold bracelet, the tiny nazar. “And you smell wonderful.”
“Lavender oil,” she says. “It’s calming—helps with nerves. Actually, do you want some?”
“Are you nervous, Lili?” he teases.
“No,” she asserts. It’s true, surprisingly. “I’m ready to stare down hawks, point out all the flaws in the administration’s approach to foreign affairs.”
He grins. “As long as I get a picture when you accuse them of neoimperialism—”
“Oh!” Lili says, grasping for her small clutch. “Here, that reminds me—”
She holds up the Polaroid—white border, dark gleam—that he’d asked for.
His smile, when he sees the photograph: It’s his slightly crooked one, just the tiniest bit uneven, like he hasn’t had the chance to realize he’s smiling before it breaks over his face; the expression reminds her of quiet mornings, moments tangled in bed together.
“Thank you,” he says. From his breast pocket, he pulls out his slim wallet. Lili watches as he slides the photo behind black credit cards, before placing it back in his suit.
There is a growing tightness in her ribs.
She missed him.
She missed him so much.
“How much time do we have?” she asks, smoothing her hands down the front of his suit.
“Depends on what you have in mind,” he replies, smiling.
“Well—”
The elevator dings, followed by severe footsteps.
“Chop, chop—now isnotthe time,” Michael says. “Andrew’s waiting in the car, we’re going to be late.”
With a sigh, Aleksandr turns. “We can’t be late to a dinner where we’re the honorees.”
“Sasha.” Michael grimaces, gesturing at Aleksandr’s lack of a tie. “Show some respect, it’s black tie.”
He raises an eyebrow. “No.”
“Aleksandr.”
“Sorry, I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Lili suppresses a smile, resting her chin on Aleksandr’s shoulder as she looks at Michael.
But instead of scowling at her, or insulting her, Michael just—nods.
Once, at her. No smile, but a grudging sense of—acquiescence.
“Come on,” Aleksandr says, grasping Lili’s hand to help her down from the counter. He didn’t notice the interaction. She lands lightly on her toes, in her borrowed high heels. They offer her a few more inches of height, but Aleksandr still looks down at her, much taller. “Let’s go before Michael decides where he’ll bury our bodies.”
