“God, this smells good,” she said, tasting the sauce with a wooden spoon.“If you don’t like it, you’re not allowed to say.”
I grinned.“Don’t worry, my taste buds are calibrated to hospital cafeteria food.This is basically five stars.”
She snorted and set the spoon down, then leaned back against the counter, arms folded, looking at me like she was waiting for the punchline.Maybe there was one.Maybe after spending so long keeping everyone at arm’s length, I went and got attached.Maybe the punchline was that the more I tried to protect Nadya, the more I wanted things I couldn’t have.
I stepped closer without even realizing it.She was right there, and if I wanted to, I could just reach out and—
She did it first, tucking her hair behind her ear with one hand, then putting that same hand tentatively on my chest.I covered her hand with mine, feeling how tiny it was against my chest.
We hovered there, neither of us breathing, faces eight inches apart.I knew all the reasons why I shouldn’t close that distance, but the taste of her laughter was still in the air.
Fuck those reasons.
I lowered my head, cupped her face and claimed her lips, feeling the softness of her lips, the urgency, the hunger.She tasted like chocolate and salt and something wild underneath.
The spoon clattered to the counter as she wrapped her arms around my neck, rising on tiptoe.I leaned down and pushed her against the cool edge of the counter.She made a sound low in her throat, the kind that made me want to take her and never let go.
A lifetime of iron discipline snapped the leash.I slid my mouth along her jaw and pressed my forehead to hers.Yeah, that leash wasn’t enough to step away, but at least I stopped kissing her.
I let my hand drift down to cup the side of her neck, all the while searching her face for anything resembling regret.There wasn’t any.
I spun her gently to face the stove.“Don’t burn the sauce, chef.”
The air between us vibrated like a plucked wire; even after stepping back, her absence felt as loud as her laughter.It was like I could smell her energy in the air.
We plated up our food.The bread came out perfect.Salad crisp, meatballs almost burnt, but Nadya spooned them onto the pasta with a flourish.
We ate at her little kitchen table, which was a decent enough size since she used to live here with her two sisters.It showed quite a few signs of use, and I could picture them here, cooking and eating together, telling each other about their day.
“How was the gallery?Did Lara agree to display your painting?”I asked.
“Better.She wants me to have another solo show, but I need more pieces for it.”
“That’s good, right?”
She turned her head to the side, considering.“Yeah.It’s just intimidating.And it feels weird, you know?I’m showing everyone how messed up I am, and they are paying me for it.Not that I’d say no to someone wanting to buy my work.”
“I bet.Brooklyn can’t be cheap to live in, especially now that you have to rent this place by yourself instead of splitting it three ways.”
Nadya waved it off.“Vera and Ljuba are still paying their thirds, but yeah, I should probably look for something smaller.There’s no reason to pay for the second bedroom.”
But she hadn’t considered a roommate.Honestly, I would’ve had a problem sharing my space with a stranger, too.I had seen too many horror stories to consider compromising my own safety, and I was well trained to deal with any threat.
Was it safer to be alone in Nadya’s case, though?
Well, having me stay here was definitely safer, but I doubted others would protect her the same way.The problem was, there were only so many days I could stay here before my boss called me home, unless I found a really good reason to stay.That reason had evaporated the moment I found out Renat was handling the trafficking angle.
Nadya stabbed pasta onto her fork, popped it into her mouth and closed her eyes in a slow, theatrical way.“Not bad, Tuna.Not bad at all.”
“It’s nearly impossible to screw up pasta,” I answered, trying the meatballs.“Damn, this actually is good.”
“All the credit goes to Ljuba.She has a special recipe.”
Right, her sister was a chef.“But you’re the one who made the sauce and didn’t burn anything.”
She poked at the browned ball.“Got pretty close, though.”
“Close doesn’t count.”
