Page 33 of The Pakhan's Sold Bride

I’ve seen her staring at me a number of times. I know she finds me attractive.

“Or maybe ‘polite’ isn’t what you really want, Lara, and you’re just too shy to ask for what you want.” I step even closer to her, my eyes narrowing as dark thoughts fill my mind.

Lara instantly catches my drift and takes a sharp breath, biting her lip as her cheeks flush pink.

I notice a delicate silver chain around her neck that she wasn’t wearing before.

Reaching out, I lift the tiny pendant with one finger.

“A rose,” I say, admiring the detail as my fingers brush over her chest.

Her blush grows darker, spreading between her breasts.

“It was my mother’s.”

“I didn’t notice you wearing it before.”

“I wasn’t. I only put it on this morning. I’ve been carrying it with me since her death, but it didn’t feel right to wear it.”

“Why does it feel right now?” I ask, letting the tiny silver rose drop from my fingers.

She reaches up and touches it.

“The debts are cleared. It just—it gives me a chance to remember her without that weight on my shoulders,” she says, almost a whisper.

My heart tightens as I watch emotion flicker over her face.

The microwave pings loudly, and she jumps, giggling at herself as she turns to open it. “So, did you want pizza?” she asks, happy to change the subject.

“I think pizza makes the perfect midnight snack,” I answer, stepping forward to grab an extra plate at the same time as she steps away from the microwave.

“I’ll grab the chili sauce,” she says, turning straight into me.

Our bodies bump against each other, and she trips. I wrap my hand around her waist to steady her, her hands pressing against my chest. Instinctively, I pull her even closer. She looks up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, and my heart beats faster.

“You should be more careful,” I grin.

“It wasn’t me,” she says, slightly breathless as her eyes study my face. “You’re the one who gatecrashed my pizza party.”

Her playful attitude is amusing and fun. The glimmer of mischief in her eyes teases me.

I lean down, my lips moving closer to hers.

My hand brushes down her back, over the smooth fabric of her oversized t-shirt. My mind taunts me with images of lifting her onto the kitchen counter and pushing her legs apart.

Of kissing her and pushing my tongue into her mouth.

My cock stirs at the memory of our lips against each other.

Suddenly, I remember how quickly I lost myself last time I kissed her. How she broke down my walls in an instant and left me confused.

I clear my throat, dropping my hand away from her body and taking a big step back.

“Um. So. Pizza,” I stammer.

“Oh, right,” she says, snapping out of the spell and turning away from me.

We both move around the kitchen, keeping a good distance between us.

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