And it is. I’ve been catcalled, told I’m beautiful, even exotic. But somehow, this odd compliment beats any I’ve received before.
Evgeny’s hand finds mine across the table again, but instead of letting him rest it on top, I risk winding my fingers through his as I did at the sandwich shop.
He doesn’t pull away.
Something is changing within him, or maybe it’s changing between us. I can’t tell what it means, but I want to find out.
“By the way.” Evgeny pulls his hand away after a moment, but only to reach for the bottle of wine, which he pours into my glass, then his.
The ruby liquid that pours out is mesmerizing, so dark it’s almost the color of blood. He twirls the glass and inhales the wine’s aroma before taking a long drink, then another.
“While I’m doling out compliments, I want you to know I admire how you care for your family. I know how difficult it is when everything rests on your shoulders.”
I suppose he does know. Our situations might be an ocean apart, but Evgeny knows what it’s like when everyone depends on you, looks to you to make decisions and keep the ship running.
A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow against it as it turns to heat behind my eyes.
I manage a small “Thank you,” reaching for my glass to take a long swallow to drown my feelings.
Except I miss, and my glass tumbles over right into Evgeny’s glass. A tidal wave of wine spills across the table, and we both jump up to avoid it. As the conversation around us stops, the wine reaches the end of the table, spilling onto the floor, and a server hurries over with towels. I look at Evgeny, wine dripping from the edge of his suit jacket. I half expect him to be scowling at me, maybe about to start bellowing, the evening ruined if not his expensive suit.
Instead, he meets my gaze. A smile curls at one corner of his mouth, then spreads until it’s an actual grin. Then, miracle of miracles, he begins to laugh. Soon, out of astonishment and because of the situation, I’m laughing too.
Evgeny ignores the judgmental looks sent our way, and so do I. We keep laughing until we’re wiping tears from our cheeks as we sit at our newly cleaned table.
“Sorry about that,” I manage, clearing my throat.
“You are equal parts amusing, exasperating, and so alluring I can’t take my eyes off you.”
I flush at the compliment, not used to receiving so many in one night. “I can say the same about you,” I shoot back, smiling to take the sting from the answer.
But his words and our laughter have an unintended consequence. The electricity that springs up between us. Not to mention the pulse that takes up residence between my thighs.
“You look incredible tonight,” he murmurs, eyes roving over the plunging neckline of my short dress. I can see the desire in his eyes, in the way sweat beads on his forehead and his hand opens and closes.
Our main courses come to the table, but the spark doesn’t diminish. If anything, it grows more intense as he takes my hand again, and I lightly trace designs on his palm with my thumb.
Evgeny’s face flushes, and he clears his throat. As I take my first bite of food, I throw caution to the wind and slip my foot out of my shoe. Taking full advantage of the solid sides of the table, I reach across the space between us and brush the bulge in his slacks with my toes.
A jerk tells me I’ve hit my mark, and my sly smile becomes a smirk.
I brush the bulge again, already imagining being pressed against a wall as he pounds into me. The sweat has become a sheen on Evgeny’s skin, and he clenches his hands into fists. I wonder if we’re even going to make it through dinner.
Evgeny groans and leans forward, his head dropping as sweat drips down the side of his face. A convulsive shiver jolts through him.
Something suddenly feels wrong.
“Evgeny?”
He groans again, his fist clenched so tightly his knuckles are white.
“Evgeny, are you okay?”
A bead of sweat drips from his hairline. A trickle of blood falls from his nose, and cold panic washes away every ounce of desire from my body.
“Evgeny? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
Is he choking? Having an allergic reaction to something in the food? It hits me that I have no idea what he’s allergic to, whether he needs an EpiPen, or if he has some other kind of condition.
