AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I shouldn’t be so shocked when his deep baritone voice rumbles up from behind me, but I am nonetheless. I spin around and press my back to the glass. Kirill is standing in the doorway, one forearm resting against the frame in a very sexy lean.
“I work best alone,” I say, trying to regain some composure. I stand tall and take a breath to settle my heart. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have work to do?”
He shakes his head. “I’m done for the day.”
Done doing what?I want to ask. If Natalia’s tattoo artist boyfriend is right, Kirill is done with a busy day of breaking bones and carousing with motorcycle gangs. But when he’s standing in front of me in dark gray trousers and a white button-down tailored to fit his broad shoulders and tapered waist, it’s hard to imagine him running with such a rough crowd.
The image of him driving his heel into that guard’s shin flashes in my mind again. The crack of bone. That night, he’d been wearing a tux. Clearly, clothes don’t make the man.
“And you have nothing better to do than track me down and harass me?” I fire back. “You’re probably the one who gave me this ‘special assignment.’ Was that so you’d know where to find me?”
Kirill steps away from the door and moves towards me with slow, ambling steps. “I don’t need to pull strings to be able to find you in my own house. I always know where you are and what you’re doing.”
He continues moving towards me, closing the distance between us until I have to tip my chin up to meet his green eyes. I can see the ocean reflected in them, spots of sunlight dancing in his irises. I blink hard like I might be able to snap a mental image to recall later. His eyes really are beautiful.
“For instance,” he says, pressing his hands to the glass, caging me in, “I know you were up here enjoying my view.”
“Your view?”I swallow down my nerves. “Am I not allowed to look out the window while I’m working now? Gosh, this list of rules is getting long. Don’t be seen, enter through the back, don’t enjoy the luxury I can’t afford. It’s starting to feel very biblical. Very ‘avert your eyes, lest ye be damned.’”
His full lips pull up on one side. I want to reach up and press my finger to the small crease in his cheek. His laugh lines aren’t well-worn, which seems strange. He smiles a lot when he’s around me.
He dips his head low, his words whispering across the shell of my ear. “You can look, but don’t touch.”
I start to ask what he means, but then he grabs my waist and spins me around. I yelp and reach to steady myself against the window, but Kirill grabs my hands with his.
My entire back is molded against his front, the heat of his body soaking through my uniform. Slowly, he lifts my hands up and lets them hover over the glass.
Over the palm prints I left when I was looking out the window before.
Over the palm prints he just added when he caged me in.
“You’ll need to clean that now.”
I can feel the words forming in his chest. His every inhale and exhale. The thud of how alive he is, reverberating through me.
I know I should rip my hands away from his and be offended by his audacity, but his touch is firm and steady. Something about the contact feels ageless and constant. Like the ocean.
And when I’m in the ocean, there’s no place I’d rather be.
He lets go of me all at once. “I don’t like when my room is a mess.”
The moment shatters, and I turn to face him. “Your room?”
He lies back on his bed, arms wide. “Welcome.”
I was so focused on the view when I arrived that I didn’t even look around. I walked right past the sprawling four-poster bed in the center of the room to gaze out the window. But here it freaking is.
With Kirill Zaitsev himself spread out across the massive mattress.
Unlike the guest rooms, his bed spread is a muted red color. Like clay. Or dried blood. The walls are a sage green.
“It’s so… earthy.”
“You sound unimpressed.”
“Surprised, actually,” I say. “I expected—”
I cut myself off. Nothing good can come from finishing that sentence.
