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Is she talking to me, or is she slowly losing her mind?
“Yes, she would. She always uses garlic.”
Why the hell is this woman cooking so early in the morning? Is eating a meal with me really that insufferable?
She turns her body in a small twirl, her eyes closed.
Seeing her in this moment is like a breath of fresh air. With everyone else, it’s always business, but she is true to who she is. Sure, she’s a lot to put up with, but there’s something about this moment that makes me forget all her snide remarks. The way she moves her body—it’s as if she doesn’t care who’s watching.
Koldunya.
I want my hands on her every hour of every day, and that’s the most terrifying thought I’ve ever had. It’s like I’m trying to justify my thoughts about her. I’m interested in her, but I can’t stand her—as if that makes my thoughts any clearer.
I move closer to her, unable to stand the distance between us anymore, until her back is only a few inches from me. My hands find her waist and I dig my thumbs into her sides gently. My touch startles her, but she welcomes it.
“What are you doing,Koldunya?”
Her head falls to the side when my mouth comes near her neck. I can feel how warm her skin is even though my lips aren’t even touching her.
“We’re going to talk about whatI’mdoing?”
“I could get used to this,” I admit.
Her left hand wraps around mine as I tighten my hold on her. She stirs the sauce with her free arm and ignores my comment—which doesn’t shock me. She doesn’t want to let go of her stubbornness as much as I don’t want to let go of mine, but I will for tonight. For her. Tomorrow, things can go back to normal.
Talking to Sloane reminds me of gambling. You throw in cash and say, “I’m done after this one,” but that’s a lie. You can’t help but want to see ifonemore try will increase your chances, but it never does. That’s why it’s an addiction.
If I try once more with Sloane, I’ll stop. Things can go back to the way they were meant to be. But for tonight I just want to let go. I want to be in this moment with her.
I close my eyes when I smell the shampoo on her damp hair. “Who taught you how to cook this?”
“Ingret did. She’s the closest thing I have to a mother.”
Does she know my brother is the one who took her mother from her? A wave of unease battles in my stomach. Why am I suddenly feeling accountable for my brother’s actions? “She raised you?” I ask.
Sloane doesn’t answer right away, but she nods a moment later. I can tell it brings her pain to be away from her family, but I can’t think about that.
Her hand leaves mine and reaches for a small spoon by the side of the stove. She dips the metal into the sauce and tastes it. “It’s missing something, but I can’t put my finger on what.”
“Salt?” I ask even though I haven’t tasted it. “Pepper? Onion powder?”
“No,” she mumbles. She leaves my arms and opens the spice cabinet. “Can you try it? Maybe you’ll figure it out if you taste it.” She nods to herself as if she’s answering for me.
Sloane brings the spoon to my lips, but I don’t open my mouth. The memory of her throwing the soup I made all over my face washes over me. Her eyes search mine, probably coming up with a bunch of rude comments.
“Try it again,” I tell her. “I want to taste it from your lips.”
She looks at me as if I’ve committed the darkest crime imaginable. As she brings the spoon to her lips her eyes fall to mine. I grab the silverware from her hands and place it on the counter behind her. Then I bring my hand to her face, pushing down on her bottom lip.
“Mikhail,” she says softly ... as if she’s asking me if I’m sure.
I trail my fingers up her arm then down the side of her body so gently I see her skin creating goose bumps. “Don’t talk,” I say before I pull her face toward mine.
She opens her mouth for me, her tongue finding mine. Her kisses start off as gentle and cautious, but they begin to ask for more. My hands grab onto her waist, pulling her close, but not close enough. I want to bury myself in her warmth. I want to forget about all the ways I’ve wronged her. I wantherto forget them. But only in this moment, and this moment alone.
Just one last taste.
“Let go,” I tell her. “Let your guard down for me, just for tonight.”
