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“I want more men on Senator Hope. We need to know who he is in bed with besides Antonio and us, now that both those bridges are burned. Also, put extra security in the new warehouse, along with nine and thirteen.”
“You got it.”
The rideto my penthouse is too long. I push the elevator penthouse button over and over irrationally thinking that is going to help. I’m in desperate need of a shower and Kate. At the chime of the elevator, I shuffle off, the sweet and buttery scent of homemade cookies smacking me in the face. Unfamiliar muffled voices come from the living room and stepping closer I see the television is on.
Huh. That’s different.
The only time the tv has been on before is when Nik comes over and puts on baseball, usually complaining about the screen size being insufficient. I follow the smell into the kitchen. Ilena is bent over removing a tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven and she jumps, cookies popping off the tray, as I reach around to grab one.
“Oh, Mr. Morozov,” her hand over her chest, “you scared me.”
I raise my eyebrows at her, lifting the cookie in my hand. “Cookies?” I ask. It’s not something that Ilena normally bakes. A pink dusts her cheeks, and she turns replacing the baked tray with another batch of unbaked dough balls.
“Ms. Castile appreciates them. I want her to feel better.” Ilena whispers, like her admiration of Kate, is a big secret. I frown at the implication Kate isn’t doing well.
“Where is she?” I ask.
Ilena puts a finger to her lips and tilts her head to the side toward the living room. Two bare feet stick up from the end of the couch, resting crossed on the arm. I stride into the living room, glancing at the cooking competition left on, three chefs are racing around a kitchen, and it looks anything but enjoyable. Leaning against the leather couch I peer down at Kate who is sprawled out on her back, legs crossed and elevated on the arm. One arm is bent up, grazing her chin and the other hangs loosely down and off the couch, suspended midair.
Hair spills around her face, eyes closed twitching with tiny movements. Following her rounded nose down to her lush, pink lips is a mistake. They are plump and full, tinted in the sweetest shade that I want to taste.
The leather creaks beneath my weight and sweet coconut mixes with the rich leather. When I bought this couch, it was one of four that Natallia had picked out for me. I was in a rush and didn’t care about a couch that I’d never sit on. After delivery, I appreciated the smooth, buttery softness of the quality leather, but that was the extent of my interest.
Now, seeing Kate splayed across the contemporary leather, with sleek lines that emphasize her small curves and the black cushions that her tan skin sinks into—it’s the best couch in the world. I push up, afraid that Ilena is behind me, watching the effect Kate has on me too closely. I make a discreet adjustment and reluctantly hurry to take a cold shower.
I’m in the middle of wrestling my shirt off, aggravated at my inability to do a simple task when a knock sounds at my door. I freeze. Ilena never knocks, she waits until I’m out in the common areas to speak with me. On rare occasions, she will address me through the closed door, but it’s not something she makes a habit.
“Luka?” Kate’s groggy voice sounds through the door, and a smirk tugs at my lips at her sleep-induced tone. A warm satisfaction rumbles deep in my chest with her in my penthouse, on my couch, in my bed, and consuming my mind.
“Yeah.” I bark out too harshly, my bandage is stuck to my shirt I’m grappling with it.
The door cracks, and Kate’s head pokes beyond the door darting around the room until her eyes land on me. I’m still caught in my shirt and her face contorts as she hip-checks the door open further.
“Can I help you?” she asks. Her words spread across the room as she strides to me, not waiting for an answer. She unsticks my shirt from the bandage belt meant to help support my bruised ribs, but it’s crap. Kate marches my shirt to the laundry bin then scoops up my hand, leading me to the bathroom.
“Do you need to take the bandage off for a shower?” She is trying to sound clinical, but the slight waver in her voice hints she is loving this as much as I am.
“Yeah, I can do it Kate, it’s okay.”
I tuck the whisper of hair in front of her face, behind her ear, the silky strands falling through my fingers easily. She glances at the large vanity mirror that hovers above my marble countertops. I meet her eyes in the mirror, and she smiles, moving around to my back. Supple hands probe gently at the bandage wrap, her fingertips effortlessly gliding along my skin. A shiver surprises me as Kate leans into my back, unrolling the wrap around my chest. Weariness settles on her face when she finally exposes the large bruising along my side. Small patches line my back sensitive to any touch, but Kate’s is the exception. She is always the exception.
Needing to distract her from my bruised body I throw something out there.
“So, cooking shows?” I’m rewarded with a fluttering laugh that shoots straight to my heart.
“Yep,” she says, emphasizing the p. “When I was living off ramen and pickles, I used to download episodes to my phone and fantasize about all the things I would learn to cook when I had more money in my grocery budget.”
I snag the hand making circles on my back, pulling her to my front.
“Then why are you still watching it now? You have whatever resources you need, and you can always ask Ilena to put ingredients on the list.” I place a kiss on her wrist, the underside that I love. The sensitive skin rises in goosebumps as I feather my lips there. Her eyes flutter close and I take that opportunity to wrap my arms around her, pushing her small frame into mine. The perfect fit.
“You have access to anything you can imagine, Kate.” I tilt her chin, reveling in how familiar she is, and cringing that there was ever a time I didn’t know her, didn’t want her.
Her hands come up behind my head and I tug her mouth to mine. I groan at the taste of her, sweet and minty, with the lingering taste of chocolate. My teeth graze her lower lip and the gasp I’m seeking comes out, opening her mouth for me. Her tongue meets mine, tangling together in a sweet symphony with its crescendo a soft whimper that has me reaching to pull her shirt to me, desperate to hear another. When she moves against me, I hiss. Kate pushes back, breaking the kiss and I grapple trying to pull her closer again. Her laugh fills the bathroom and I want to hear that every day for the rest of my life.
“Luka … you’re injured. We need to slow down.” She heads to the shower to turn it on. I now hate showers. Slowing down is agony, but I know she is right. However, I’d walk around with bruised ribs for the next year, to keep kissing her.
I drag a hand down my face and grumble, murmuring about how much I want to shoot Antonio all over again. A towel lands in my hands and Kate spends the next couple minutes running around making sure all my soaps are within reach and that I have fresh clothes to change into.
