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To find out what lies beneath his mysterious facade.
Jesus, I haven’t even kissed the guy and I already feel like I want to see him again. Am I so inexperienced that I can’t even control my own desires?
Well, he did say to indulge whenever the moment presents itself, right?
My eyes widen as I remember that I’m literally at work right now.
“Shit, the bar,” I groan while shooting up from the couch. “If I don’t get back out there, Dmitri is going to fire me.”
Pavel places a hand on my shoulder, his fingers burning on my bare skin like dry ice yet comforting like the winter sun. “He won’t be a problem tonight.”
The way his green eyes shimmer convinces me that he will honor his word. The exact opposite of everything I’ve ever experienced. I shouldn’t trust this stranger, especially not after what I saw him do just a few minutes ago.
Yet I can’t deny the way my body responds to him.
My voice is weak with worry when I whisper, “You sure?”
“I promise,devushka.”
He pours another shot and hands it to me. “What’s it like working for him?”
I stare into the clear liquid, my features twisting with concern as I admit, “It’s not great.”
“Not great?”
“Why do you want to know?”
He shrugs, drinks his shot, and patiently waits for me to do the same. When I tip the shot glass back, he appears pleased.
And I feel encouraged by that.Gonna log that feeling away for later.
“Curiosity,” he says while scooting toward me again. “There was more than fear when you saw me cut him.”
I scoff. “He takes liberties with his bartenders.”
Pavel’s silence is deafening. A layer of tension sparks between us that has less to do with indulgence and more to do with disappointment, perhaps even contempt.
I play with a strand of hair as I continue, “It felt good to see him look like he was the one scared for once.”
“Did that please you?”
“More than I want to admit.”
He holds my gaze. Heat rises between us as the air crackles with desire. I feel drunk—whether from his presence or the vodka, I can’t tell. His lips part slightly, and I feel myself inching closer.
No!
“I have to get back out there.” I stand up, flustered. “I appreciate the drinks, but I need to make sure I close the bar properly.”
“I’ll be here when you’re ready, Liya.”
He doesn’t stand to stop me or try to convince me to stick around. And that singular action makes me want to skip the rest of my shift. To hell with breaking down the register and slapping the toilets with bleach.
This guy likes me and wants to spend time with me.
I’m not used to that.
But I don’t linger, and I don’t try to reason with myself at all. Instead, I dart back to the front of the bar and slide behind the counter.
