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He nods for me to continue eating. “It pleases me to see you enjoy it. I know my effort wasn’t wasted.”
“Oh, come on,” I say teasingly. “Did you really prepare this yourself?”
He smirks. “Yes, I did. Is that so hard to believe?”
For a moment, I’m deeply moved until… “Ah, is this part of your second date schtick? Invite the girl back to your place for an amazing gourmet meal prepared by your hand?”
A shadow falls across his face. “I’ve never done this for anyone. Never even wanted to.”
“Oh…” is all I can manage to say, sensing I’ve offended him. I attempt to lighten the mood. “Who knew Russian food could taste so amazing?” I take another bite.
Sebastian closes his eyes for a couple of seconds and takes a deep breath as if trying to calm his nerves. “What? Did you think we only ate gruel and stone-hard bread in Russia?”
Uh-oh, this just took a turn for the worse. “No, of course not. Honestly, I never really gave the matter much thought. But,” I gesture at the meal. “Now I know, Russian cuisine is some of the finest in the world.”
A hint of a smile touches his lips. “You must let me show you Moscow someday...soon.”
I nearly choke on my bortsch. Is he joking? No, his expression tells me, he’s dead serious. “Wow, uh, that would be…interesting,” I say for lack of a better word.
He shakes his head. “Madison, Moscow is a very beautiful city filled with incredible history and unmatched artistry. And the food,” he waves a hand at my half-empty bowl. “is obviously to your liking. Wait until you taste the dishes prepared by our finest chefs.”
I nod at the prospect. “You make a convincing argument, and if the food is anywhere near as good as this.” I stick my fork into my plate of pelmeni and take a bite. The flavors explode in my mouth in a beautiful symphony of savory, sweet, and tangy notes, culminating in a culinary crescendo that leaves me yearning for another bite. “My God, Sebastian. I think you may have missed your calling.”
His sapphire eyes come to rest upon me with a new intensity. “I mean to satisfy you in every possible way, Madison.”
I swallow down my dumpling and try to steady my pounding heart. “Well, you’re off to an excellent start.”
He gives me a sly grin that would have buckled my knees had I not been seated. Damn, he’s looking sinfully gorgeous sitting there in the crisp white dress shirt, opened at the collar, and black slacks, which fit his form well without being too tight. Though, I think I’d prefer to see him out of them…
“Save room for dessert,” he says as I fork my last bite.
I glance over at the kitchen. “Oh, don’t tell me you have a delicious custom-made dessert back there.”
“No, it’s up there,” he says hitching his chin toward…the bedroom upstairs in the loft.
An involuntary chuckle escapes me as a quivering stirs between my thighs. “Wow. I can’t wait to taste it.” Did I really just say that?
A low chuckle rumbles through him which sends a mix of arousal and trepidation through me. I’ve been dreaming of this scenario for weeks now. Even as I equivocated on whether or not to go on a second date with him, I knew I had to sleep with him…at least once. A guy this fucking hot doesn’t come along every day and for some strange reason, he’s fixated with me.
Sebastian keeps referring to a future together but I’m here for one night of pleasure and that’s it. Hell, I have to be back at the hospital for a 6 a.m. shift. I’ll slip out early before he rises and that will be the end of my short stint with Sebastian Petrosky, Russian mafia prince extraordinaire. Okay, so I don’t know if any of it is true and there is a good chance that he is legit. I mean, he attended an Ivy League university and earned an MBA just to what? Become a lowlife mobster?
I don’t know…I can’t think straight, especially when Sebastian looks at me that way. Like he’s undressing me and really enjoying what he’s seeing.
We manage to make it through dinner without thrusting aside all the dishes and going at each other like animals right here on the dining room table. I smile at the lurid thought.
“What are you thinking about, Madison?” he asks in a sly tone.
“What?”
“A smilethatwicked requires an explanation.”
Busted! “Oh, no, I was just thinking that I have to be up at the crack of dawn for my 6 a.m. shift.”
His expression falls. “Hmm.” He rises from the table. “Then we’d better make good use of the time we have together.” He extends a hand to me. “Dance with me.”
“Dance?” I place my napkin on the table and accept his peculiar request. I mean, sure, there is some dreamy music playing in the background and the lights are low. But I thought we were moving this party for two to the bedroom. It’s not that I’m some horny freak or something, but with my crazy schedule at the hospital, it’s been a year since I’ve slept with anyone.
If fate’s thrown a mega-hot Russian god in my path, who am I to turn it down? I’m a doctor, not a saint for crying out loud.
