Page 12 of Harvest Maze

“In the truck, Gio,” I snapped.

He wisely began to retreat, but he didn’t take his eyes off us.

I turned into Demyan. “I’m so glad you stopped by. I hope you enjoy the drink.”

It took another heartbeat before that beautiful blue gaze shifted to me.

And I realized I was still stroking his arm.

It should have been embarrassing.

But when he didn’t pull back, I didn’t stop. I liked how he felt. The contact made my insides buzz.

“I’ll see you later?” Demyan made it sound like both a question and a promise.

That buzz settled between my legs. “Definitely. I’ll be around!”

Before I did something stupid, like jump as high as I could and try to kiss his cheek, I turned and hurried into the back room of the café. It took far too long for that buzz to fizzle out. Not even my grouchy cousins could dampen the rush of needy ache that only had one source of relief.

Chapter 7 – Demyan

Darkness shrouded my movements in the upstairs bedroom as I stared through the binoculars. The pretty wisp of a girl flitted between her wardrobe and the vanity. At one point, she was only in her bra and panties. With a groan, I adjusted my shaft. At this rate, my jeans were going to rip. But then she put on a dress that looked like it had been made from yarn. Socks that went to her knees were next, and a pair of boots covered those.

Ivry was dressing up.

Seeing her fully clothed did nothing to lessen the southern flow of blood.

When she went down to the kitchen, I went to mine to continue to watch as she put the finishing touches on the cake and secured a plastic dome over the top. The Salted Biscoff Café was closed on Mondays, which meant I’d sat around the house all day, waiting for glimpses through the window. But now, purpose fueled her. Ivry was going somewhere. She was taking that sexy little ass and the cake she’d carefully baked this afternoon, and she was leaving!

Which meant, I would follow.

Should I have spent the day following the don? It was what I’d been paid to do, after all. Or maybe I should have gone out to beat the bastard of a brother, who’d been rude to my girl yesterday. His face would look much better pulverized by my fists.

I hadn’t done that either.

Not when watching Ivry bake, decorate her home, and sip coffee after coffee while she watched that silly TV show was so much more enjoyable.

But now she was moving to the front door.

Following, I peered through the living room blinds, trying to see, but the angle was all wrong. I could tell she’d started her car remotely. But I couldn’t see her. I waited impatiently for her to go to her car and open the door.

A knock sounded on mine instead.

I tripped over the sofa trying to go to her. The stupid beige piece of furniture groaned under my weight. It kept me from crashing into the floor, and I shoved it hard as I righted myself.

When I opened the front door, I was breathing hard. Svätých! She was beautiful. There was a whole new reason not to breathe.

“Hi! Hello,” Ivry rushed to say. “I’m running late, but I wanted to drop this off. It’s a new recipe. One I’ve been dying to make. I thought, since you enjoyed the apple drink, that you might like to be my taste tester for the apple spice cake!”

She finished the ramble by thrusting the cake out to me.

I blinked at her.

Then looked at the cake.

My girl baked…for me.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned,” she joked, jiggling her hands and urging me to take it. “I’m not that talented.”