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Maybe six-three.
Then there’s his large frame, his wide shoulders and trim body filling out an expensive black tuxedo that reeks money. His dark hair is slicked back off his face.
Without a doubt, he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
I feel my pulse racing, matching the throb between my legs, and all he’s said was my name.
“Hello,” I squeak.
Oh. My. God.
Really, Imogen? That’s the best you can do?
It’s like I’ve lost my powers of speech.
He moves closer.
“May I join you?” Oh fuck, that accent could kill me.
I swallow hard. “Yes. Of course.”
Confidence, Imogen. Be confident. Own this.
I have every right to be here…. I have every right to…
“Moya krasivaya zhenshchina.”
My eyes go wide. “What does that mean?” I stammer.
He hitches his pant legs slightly so he can sit.
His proximity makes my heart hammer even faster as my mouth dries.
Khristian sits so he faces me, his eyes hard and curious. It sends a slight thrill through me as I stare into their icy depths.
I’ve no idea who this man is, but he has a presence and a sexy look that sends ripples over my skin.
“It’s Russian. It means, my beautiful woman. Krasavitsa is what I’ll call you, if you like.”
Of course I do.
I smile shyly, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I like it.”
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
My eyes go wide. “Uh…”
“The truth, Krasavitsa.”
I squirm in my seat. “I couldn’t… I was too nervous.”
His eyes dance with amusement, yet he doesn’t smile.
“Would you like to eat?”
I know what I’d like to eat right now…
I shake my head.
