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“Um, for turning your club into an MMA match?”
“Do you want a drink?”he asked, ignoring her statement.
“Sure.Seltzer water, please.”
Konstantin nodded.His hand was already on the bottle of seltzer he knew she preferred in the break room.The first time she’d seen the case of seltzers in the communal fridge, she’d asked Tiny who it belonged to.The expression on her face when the bouncer had told her the soft drinks were for the whole staff and cast members if they wanted was priceless.She’d even kissed the older man’s cheek, which hadn’t made his Tiger all too happy.
But Konstantin knew the difference between kindness and lust.She’d simply been happy with his answer.The seltzer was just one of many samples the companies he ordered goods from sent, but the fact she liked it had him making sure his staff kept that fridge stocked with the stuff.
He’d noticed so many little things like that over the past few months.She never took more than was her due.Split her tips with the wait staff and bouncers, even the DJs.Yasmin was courteous, kind, even mentored some of the younger dancers.He’d seen her in the practice room teaching techniques that had obviously come from years of schooling.
People in general did not appreciate how much conditioning one had to do in order to really dance.The Stripe Club hadexotic dancers, not just strippers.Yes, they removed their clothing, but the dancing was everything to many of them.Yasmin was definitely a trained dancer.Her willingness to help others was just another indication that there was more to her than met the eye.
She taught newcomers all sorts of breathing, stretching, and strengthening exercises a true dancer had to learn.And he just took it all in from the shadows.She was terrific dancer, and teacher.Never late, never complained, simply came, danced, and collected her pay.
Konstantin was all about the bottom line, but in his years in the industry he’d learned a lot as well.He cared for his employees, and by that he meant he took care of them.They were like his Pride, where he had no formal affiliations with any of the few Tiger Prides in New York.And yes, some had been after him to join up.The Jensen Pride in particular, though why a Tiger Pride that made up ninety-percent of one of the most powerful law firms in New York wanted him, a lone Tiger and businessman, begged one question.
Why?
An even better question was why was he even worrying about this now?He took a bottle of cold water from the fridge and motioned for her to sit.She lifted her drink to her lips and winced a little when she drank.
“Did he cut your lip?”he asked, and his voice deepened.
Fuck.Why hadn’t he noticed?Konstantin went to the freezer and pulled out some ice, wrapping it in a small towel.He knelt in front of her and took her chin in his hand.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, but the bruise was already visible.
Yasmin’s cheek and lip were both swollen, a testament to how hard that Lion prick had hit her.No real male would ever do such a thing, and he was pissed at himself for letting him get away so easy.
“I wouldn’t say that.You did bite the man’s hand off,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“I got this,” Yasmin added, touching his wrist to take the makeshift ice pack from him.
Konstantin leaned back on his heels and wrestled with his beast for control.Just the slightest touch, and the enormous feline inside him was begging for more.
Shit.
He knew he’d been overstepping, touching her without express permission.He just couldn’t help it.The fact of the bruise enraged his primal side.She was a female.More importantly, the beast believed she washisfemale.And he would not be satisfied until he killed the bastard who touched her.
“Hey, I’m okay,” Yasmin said, concern glowing in her golden hued eyes.Or maybe that was just her Lioness.
He looked down and noted she was touching him again with one palm pressed up against his chest.Fuck, he really liked her hands on him.Seeing it there, her flesh soft and pale in comparison to his tattoo covered bronzed skin set off a wave of lust that was, for him, unprecedented.
“Yasmin,” he growled her name, closing his eyes and breathing in deep.
Fuck.That was a mistake.She smelled amazing.Like the kartoshka his mother used to make in their small kitchen for holidays back when he was a boy.The soft spiced morsels were made by mashing cookies into crumbs and adding cognac, spices, nuts, sweetened condensed milk, and cocoa powder.Then his mother would roll them into balls and top with sugar.
They only ever had them on special occasions, but they still remained one of his favorites.He found a delightful little bakery,The Sweet Shoppe, over in Jersey where the proprietor still made them the old fashioned way.Konstantin had been so impressed, he had a standing monthly order for three dozen of whatever flavor the older Witch was featuring that month.
That was the beauty of thekartoshka.A chef could adjust the recipe, change it to match the seasons.Like a woman changed her clothes or hair.Like his Yasmin now scented so sweet like sugared currants and spicy like top shelf cognac.
Fuck.He was dying for a taste.Just one, he told himself and leaned forward, nuzzling her nose with his.He waited for her to react, to shove him away or slap his face for daring to take steal a kiss.But she didn’t.
Thank the gods.
Even better, she kissed him first.
Grrrrrrrr.
