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Warmth seeps through my body as Mishka pulls me close, kissing me as though my rebellious rant was the best he’s ever heard. It makes my heart flutter to think he likes me for my independence.
He doesn’t expect anything from me. He’s not trying to use me to get close to my family. He said himself that he knows my father would never approve of him. And still, he wants to be with me.
His lips tell me so, and his tongue as he parts my lips to deepen the kiss.
I’m breathless in an instant, my hammering pulse using up my oxygen and leaving me giddily lightheaded.
“Alright, lovebirds. I hate to break up the make-out session, but I’ve gotta kick you out.”
I gasp at the unexpected interruption, wrenching my lips from Mishka’s as I turn my head to look at the uniformed night guard standing near the rooftop entrance.
“You said an hour, Clint,” Mishka states, refusing to let me go.
“Yeah, well, you showed up later than you said you would, and now my boss is breathing down my neck for leaving you up here unattended.”
“We got caught up dancing,” Mishka explains. “Besides, we weren’t that far behind schedule.”
“It’s fine, Mishka, really,” I cut in, rubbing the rock-hard chest beneath my palm to try and soothe Mishka’s resistance. “We’ll get out of your hair, Clint. Thanks for letting us stay late.”
“Oh, uh…” He clears his throat, seeming caught off guard by my agreeableness. “No problem, Miss. Anytime.”
Mishka sighs, the sound less than pleased, and he reluctantly releases me. “Alright, radnaja. Let’s take you home.”
Interlacing our fingers once more, my menacing Russian leads me back to the elevator, and we ride it down in silence. But I can’t stop glancing at him as he stands beside me. I marvel at the enigma that is Mishka. The night he planned for us has been completely magical. I never would have anticipated that he could come up with so many fun things to do with so little time to plan.
And since our shared near-death experience, I feel as though the grumbling, stoic man I first met has transformed into someone entirely different. Someone softer, more empathetic and considerate than I thought possible for a man in his line of work—and with his background.
He puzzles me in the best kind of way.
A pleasant surprise that leaves me both nervous and excited.
We share a peaceful silence on the drive home, Mishka’s wrist casually cocked over the steering wheel, his hand resting lightly on the stick shift. When I dare to slide my palm beneath his, he gives my hand a squeeze. And though he keeps his eyes on the road, the hint of a smile graces his lips.
As we pull onto my block, Mishka takes his foot off the gas, letting his rather vocal engine idle as we coast to a stop. He pulls up to the curb a few doors down from my own and kills the headlights.
“Would you like me to get you closer?” he offers. “I thought it might be easier to slip back inside from here.”
“No, this is perfect,” I say, but I don’t release his hand or make a move to get out.
The pad of Mishka’s thumb brushes across my knuckles, sending tingles up my arm, and I turn to face him, reluctant to say good night.
“I had a really nice time,” I say, breaking the thick silence.
“I’m glad.” Mishka’s storm-blue eyes watch me steadily, his angular features dramatic in the deep shadows of his SUV. “Maybe you’ll let me take you out again sometime?” he suggests after a long pause.
I nod, my heart fluttering at the suggestion, and before I can chicken out, I release my seat belt and lean across the console to press my lips to his. Mishka’s hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, and he kisses me back with sinful sweetness.
Every time we touch, I feel this electric connection. It heats my blood and sends adrenaline pounding through my veins. What I’d intended as a goodnight kiss quickly shifts into something more. Because I can’t seem to resist his magnetic pull that lures me in.
His warm breath washes across my face as our lips separate, allowing air into my lungs. We breathe heavily together, but neither of us pulls away. When I open my eyes, they’re drawn immediately to his addictive mouth, his lips parted as they hover mere inches from mine.
“I don’t want to go inside just yet,” I breathe, my heart pounding an unsteady beat against my ribs.
“Want to sit in the back seat and talk for a bit?” he offers.
I nod, but the last thing on my mind is talking.
Mishka releases me, and his strong hands stabilize my hips as I clamber over the console into the back. Despite his much larger size, he follows me with a dexterity that makes my body hot, and as soon as he settles onto the bench seat beside me, I sling a leg over his lap to straddle him.
