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“Jesus, Nikolai! Give me a heart attack next time,” she snaps.
Crouching down, I pick up the brush. “I’ve come to apologize.”
She takes the brush from my hand and turns her back to me while she cleans the bristles.
“Abigail.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m sorry.”
Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes lock with mine. “Why did you run?”
Hell no, I’m not going there.
The lie falls easily over my lips, “I don’t want you to grow attached.”
She lets out an amused chuckle as she shakes her head. “Your dick might be magical, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to fall head over heels for you.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. “So we're good?”
“Yes.”
She starts to paint again, ignoring me while I watch the image of water gently caressing pebbles take shape.
Fuck, she’s talented.
The conversation is long over, but still, I find myself watching Abigail, the movement of her hand and brush soothing.
What is it about this woman that has me gravitating to her? I’m the one who’s seeking her out.
Suddenly she says, “If you’re going to stand there like a stalker, you might as well keep me company.” She continues to paint, her tone soft as she asks, “Why are you helping with the training at St. Monarch’s when you have your own business to run?”
“My godfather asked for a favor until he can find a replacement,” I explain.
I step closer and catch her scent drifting on a light breeze.
Christ, she smells mouthwateringly good.
“You’re an enigma, Nikolai Vetrov,” she murmurs, sounding like she’s deep in her thoughts. “You give off a vibe that you’re a bastard, but then I find out you can be caring when you want to.”
“Not many people would describe me as caring.” I move closer again until I can feel the energy vibrating from her, calling to me like a siren’s song.
It was only meant to be once, Nikolai. What the fuck are you doing?
Lifting my hand, I wrap strands of her silky brown hair around my finger. Her brush strokes grow slower until she stops.
“What are you doing?”
I lean down and tug at the strands for her to tilt her head back. Pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, I inhale deeply.
“Nikolai,” she whispers, her voice tight with desire. “You said it was only a one-time thing.”
“I did,” I breathe against her skin. “But then you gave me attitude in class.”
“You deserved it,” she groans as her head rolls against my shoulder.
“Hmm…” My teeth sink into the skin beneath her ear, and it draws a needy moan from her.
