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His proximity does strange things to my insides, making them flutter with anticipation. He warned me that he wasn't a good guy and yet here I am, unable to walk away.
Something about him keeps drawing me in.
His expression softens as he studies me, his gaze moving over my features as though committing them to memory. I hold my breath, waiting for whatever comes next.
“And I'm not asking you to be.”
“But you should, sweetheart, because you deserve it.” He cups my cheek and I reach up, gripping his wrist, holding him in place.
“How about you let me decide what I need?” I take that last step so that his mouth and mine can meet.
This time I kiss him. A moan slips between my lips and his thick tongue finds mine. Eager lips silently speaking a language far older than words.
And I let myself go, paying no attention to anything and surrendering to the pleasure of having him close. I know that I'm probably not the woman he needs either.
I come with baggage. But that doesn't matter now, because it's up to him to decide whether the risk is worth it.
“You've been warned.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ETHAN
“Areyou having fun with Grandma, honey? Of course, don't worry! You'll be home soon.”
Kristine's voice is soft but lively as she speaks to her son. I'm captured by the subtle shifts in her tone, the warmth that seems to pour through her words. It's an intimate display, one that hints at a maternal love that’s profound and unconditional.
My eyes wander through her apartment, taking in the details I missed in the darkness of last week.
Classical music plays in the background. Vivaldi's strings swell with aching beauty, each note resonating in the high-ceilinged room. Filling the space with an aura of both grace and melancholy.
For a moment, I'm lost in the interplay of sound, the way it weaves through the clinking of utensils in the kitchen, her muffled laughter, and the distant hum of the city below.
I sit back on the couch and take a breather. Kristine and I met last week, and between late-night phone calls and the club, I could use a few hours of sleep.
The furniture speaks of refined taste. The wood has a rich, deep hue, polished to a shine. Here, amid her carefully chosendecor, Kristine has managed to create a sanctuary from the chaotic pulse of the city.
The scent of garlic and onions filled the air moments ago, and now it mingles with the earthy aroma of mushrooms and the richness of cream. It’s a complex aroma, one that stirs a sense of home and a life far removed from the glitz of Club Allure.
“I'm so sorry for the interruption.”
Kristine re-enters the main room. In each hand, she carries a deep plate of ravioli coated in a heavy cream sauce. I help her carry it all over to the coffee table, and we sit casually on the floor as we take in the breathtaking view of the city.
The thick weave of the Persian rug beneath our legs, the slight chill of wine glasses as our fingers brush against them, the smooth surface of porcelain as we set our plates down.
A silence falls between us.
I cut into the dish. The pasta is perfectly al dente, each bite a testament to her skills in the kitchen, a surprising contrast to the image of her presented by the media—a woman of grace under pressure and not the culinary artist she proves herself to be.
Kristine stares out the window at the autumnal scenery, sipping from her glass.
“Tell me about your son. Why isn't he with you?”
Her green eyes round as she lowers her wine to the table. She swallows, giving me a strained smile. “It's a long story,” she replies. “Nothing I'd want to bore you with.”
Which couldn't be further from the truth because I want to know everything about her...
The mysterious woman fascinates me. We had amazing sex, and I walked away, never intending to circle back.
