Page 47 of Velvet Chains
I can’t stop staring at her fucking lips, syrup clinging to them like an invitation.
Fucking irresistible.
Part of me wants to reach across the table and lick it off to see if she tastes as sweet as she looks. I’m hit with a vivid image of yanking her into my lap, crushing my mouth against hers until she’s breathless and panting. Fuck, just the thought has my balls drawing up tight, lust slamming into me.
Fuck. Get a grip, Morozov.
I clear my throat awkwardly, shifting in my seat as I try to will away the growing bulge in my pants. “Seems like you’re trying to eat the entire menu,” I quip, raising an eyebrow. “Planning to hibernate?”
She laughs, a genuine, hearty sound that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe. It’s just nice to eat with someone for a change.”
Something in her tone makes me pause. “What, you don’t usually eat with people?”
“Well, not really. David, I mean Dave, he… He’s not really the breakfast kind…” Laura takes a deep inhale, stopping herself. It’s clear she doesn’t want to talk about that creep of an ex-husband.
“So, is today a special occasion or something?” she asks, changing the topic. There’s a playful glint in her eye. “I mean, first the bookstore, now this fancy breakfast… If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to impress me.”
I snort. “Don’t flatter yourself, wife. I just figured you could use a decent meal after all that crying.”
She laughs, the sound warm and rich. “Well, consider me impressed anyway.”
I open my mouth to reply, but I’m interrupted by the arrival of our waiter. He’s young, probably in his early twenties, with a mop of artfully tousled hair and a too-bright smile.
“How are we doing over here?” he asks, his eyes lingering on her as he refills her coffee with a flirtatious wink. “More coffee for the lovely lady?”
My jaw clenches as I watch him, the urge to punch his smug face growing stronger.
“Hey, Romeo. She’s fine. Why don’t you go polish some cutlery?” I snap, the words harsher than necessary. The waiter backs off, hands raised, and Laura’s hand touches my arm.
“Can you stop being angry at everything and everyone?” she chides, her tone light but serious.
I shrug, brushing off the lingering irritation. “It’s part of my charm.”
She rolls her eyes again, but there’s a softness there that wasn’t before. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re grumpy.”
Cute?
No woman ever pegs me as cute—I’m the damn Pakhan.
But here I am, grinning like an idiot over her compliment, feeling like a dog that’s just scored the juiciest bone. Happy as hell and completely whipped.
I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not grumpy. I’m just not a morning person.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she teases, but there’s a note of affection in her voice that makes my chest feel tight.
Focus, Morozov.
Leaning forward, my expression turns serious. “Speaking of fooling… I want to know what the fuck Dave wanted at our wedding.”
Laura nearly chokes on her water, her eyes widening. “What?”
“You heard me. That little weasel didn’t just show up to wish us well. He wanted something from you. And I want to know what it was.”
The color drains from her face, the earlier happiness vanishing in an instant. She sets down her glass with a shaky hand, her gaze darting around the restaurant like she’s looking for an escape route.
I need her to talk. I need to know what the fuck is going on.
So, I take a deep breath to steady my rising temper.
