I have to stop for a traffic light anyway, so I twist toward Bree and tag her behind the neck.
“You’re beautiful.”
“You’re full of shit,” she says, but with half a smile as she points at the light that just turned green.
“I bought you flowers,” I try in a lame attempt to salvage something.
“I noticed,” she whispers, but her smile spreads.
Chapter Eleven
Bree
It’s weird.
I’d almost forgotten this side of Yanis existed. This caring side—attentive, human—was so well-hidden by the rigid, almost cold veneer he shows the world, I’d long convinced myself he’d been a figment of my imagination.
I glance over at the sunflowers he finally jammed in a juice jug since I don’t own any vases. Don’t think anyone’s ever bought me flowers before and it’s not like I missed that, not in the kind of life I lead, but I have to admit it’s nice. Special. It makes me feel special, despite the mini disaster that preceded it in the City Market parking lot.
That could’ve been an ugly scene and I have to admit it was tempting, but Yanis looked miserable enough all by himself. I almost felt sorry for him.
The truth is, neither of us lived as monks for the past fifteen years. Heck, I was married for a chunk of them. This is the baggage we now carry. The stuff we need to find a place for if whatever is happening between us now is going somewhere.
I watch Yanis pace around my kitchen, the phone to his ear. He seems agitated, or maybe annoyed is a better word. So far it looks like this day is not going the way he’d planned and he’s not very good at rolling with the punches.
“Fuck.”
The sound of his phone smacking the kitchen counter is sharp as he braces himself on both hands, his head hanging down.
“What’s up?”
He lifts slowly and his eyes meet mine across the room.
“I have to fly to Peru Monday morning. Jelnyk Mining. They ran into some resistance from local law enforcement over the security framework we designed and need me to come smooth the waters.”
“So go,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine,” I add, guessing that’s at least part of his concern.
“I hadn’t planned for this. Not now.”
“You can’t plan for emergency calls, Yanis. All you can do is adjust,” I impart calmly.
He straightens up and starts moving toward me, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table, his body leaning forward.
“I was supposed to use this week to win you back,” he says solemnly. “Earn back your trust, get you to let me in again. So far I’m doing a piss-poor job of it.”
I smile to myself. He doesn’t even realize, showing me he’s not as unflappable and unaffected as he’d like the world to believe he is does more to gain my trust than sweet words or calculated actions could.
“You got me flowers,” I teasingly remind him.
The corner of his mouth twitches.
“I did, didn’t I? Do I get bonus points for that?”
“Major bonus points.”
His face turns serious and his eyes find my mouth.
“Fair warning,” he mumbles as he already leans closer. “I’m about to kiss you.”
“Not going anywhere.”
I barely get the words past my lips when his mouth captures mine.
Unlike earlier pecks and brushes, this kiss means business. Something my body is on board with the moment his tongue slides inside.
God, how I missed this.
I’ve kissed men, slept with them, but never without effort. Tentative touches with my mind engaged at all times and a determination to have my body feel. Just Yanis’s mouth is enough to envelop me in a surge of sensations that spins my mind out of control and my body into action.
An instinctive response—not hampered by measure or consideration, but driven by sheer need—has me hook my hands around his neck and pull him closer.
Groaning deep in his chest, he drops on his knees beside the couch, our mouths fused and his tongue still plundering, as he presses me back into the pillows. His hands roam, one slipping behind my head where it lodges in my hair, while he strokes down my breastbone with the other, leaving his palm to rest on my thundering heart.
This—letting go and simply feeling—is what I’ve missed most of all. Knowing wherever the rush of heated blood takes me will be worth my surrender.
My back arcs off the couch when his palm brushes roughly over a breast, grazing my distended nipple.
So lost to sensation, it takes me a moment to realize he’s lifted away from the kiss, watching me through heavy eyelids as he plays me with his fingers.
“Don’t stop.”
I try to lift myself up on an elbow but a sharp stab of pain in my ribs keeps me in place.
Right. Almost forgot about those. I silently condemn my physical limitations.
Something Yanis appears to clue in to as his mouth stretches into a lazy smile.
“Patience,” he rumbles, the sound vibrating over my skin, doing nothing to stem my frustration. “Some things don’t change.”
I remember. He was always the one who would set the pace, while all I could do was hurl myself into the ride. At least that’s how it used to be between us.
“Only with you,” I admit.
He brushes a finger along my cheek.
“I like that.”
“You make it sound like a good thing.”
This time his smile is open and almost painful in the memories it invokes of times where he’d look at me like this, without any reservation or shield.
“Because it is. The reward will be worth the wait.”
And a hell of a long wait it’s been.
“In the meantime,” he starts, getting to his feet as he carefully helps me into a sitting position. “Tell me you’ve got propane in that tank. I bought us a few steaks for the grill.”
“There was last time I used it.”
“I’ll check.”
I watch his ass as he walks toward the balcony where my grill lives. A great view, but watching him move around the kitchen is just gonna get me hotter and more bothered. I need to do something. I’m sick of sitting still.
“Let me help. I’m going nuts here.”
Five minutes later I’m installed at the small dining table, my bad ankle elevated on a chair as I cut vegetables for roasting. Yanis is doing some dishes.
“Bree?”
He leans against the counter, drying his hands on a towel, his head tilted to one side as he regards me. Something tells me to brace for what’s coming. We’ve talked, but he’s been cautious, avoided asking too many questions, and somehow that restraint only heightened my anxiety around things I’ve kept to myself so long.
Even now, after already half-committing to testing these new waters with him, I’m not sure I’m ready to share it all.
“When did you get that scar?”
Typical Yanis, straight to the core.
Yanis
“Shortly after my mom died.”
She only hesitated for a second before answering but she visible shored up before she did.
Regret is immediate. One more thing to add to my list of fucking mistakes. It’s amazing she’s even talking to me after all I put her through.