Page 20 of Branded in Love
“Yes,” I say, starting the blender. When the noise is over, I add, “Between Natalya and Sasha…” Gavriil takes the blender from my hands and sets it next to the hot pan. “If you can talk about it, that is.”
“Oh,thatstory.” He almost sounds relieved. “They used to date, long ago,” he begins. “They must have been around fifteen, I believe.” Gavriil splashes the sauce into the pan. “I honestly thought they’d be matched forever.”
“Forever?” I say in disbelief.
“When you know, you know.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“But still, fifteen?” I pause. “That’s awfully young to make such a commitment...” I strain the pasta in the sink.
Gavriil season’s the meat and moves it to the stove. He already has the skillet ready with olive oil, red pepper seeds, garlic, and cooked onions. “Not for my people,” he says, both eyebrows shooting sky-high. He sears the meat with such confidence, you’d think he cooks for himself all the time. “Some of them consider me a confirmed bachelor.”
I stop everything, intrigued. “How old are you?” I have to ask.
He stirs the sauce, and when he removes the spoon, it drips on his hand. “Twenty-four.” Gavriil shrugs, licking the sauce off his thumb. He does it offhandedly, but the gesture itself is impossibly sexy. A thrill shoots through my core and between my legs without remedy.
I swallow hard and force myself to look away. He’s so attractive. My mind spins in a daze, swept in a cloud of undiluted fascination and complete idiocy... I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone.
“And you?” he asks, stirring the pot again. God, he’s stirring so much more than that.
“Twenty-three…”
“Oh,” he says, impressed. “And you’re your own boss?” He sets the spoon aside.
“I have an antique shop…” The words roll out, but I am besotted with that image of him licking his thumb.Stop it, Luciana!I shut my eyes for a moment, then force myself to keep my mind busy with something else.
I take over the meat. “Rare, right?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He leans against the counter and tosses the kitchen cloth over his shoulder. “An antique shop...” His arms corded in muscle fold over his chest. “That sounds interesting.” Gavriil’s entire focus is on me, and I do not know how to handle it.
“My grandfather left me the business when he passed away,” I say in a blurt. “That, and a bunch of rentals.”
When he moves to the sink to wash his hands, the restlessness inside me starts to fade. “He left you well provided,” he adds, drying his sturdy arms with the cloth.
“Uh-huh.” I bite my lower lip.Focus on the meat... Not ‘that’ meat, Luciana.God, I can’t stop blushing. I’ll blame it on the stove if I have to. My gaze centers on the skillet.
But my easiness is short-lived when Gavriil’s hand rests next to mine over the counter. He stands inches behind me. I can feel his warm breath caressing my cheek in slow, thrilling waves. His other hand slides the tongs away from my fingers. He turns the steaks, searing them evenly.
I get a whiff of his cologne, tied up with his musky fragrance. He’s never been as close to me as he is right now. My heart beats hard against my chest. Every inch of me goes taut at his nearness.
“Beautiful,” he purrs in my ear. His husky voice makes my entire body tingle. My cheeks burn like crazy. For a second, I don’t think he’s talking about the meat... A girl can dream, can’t she?
Finally, he steps away. I exhale one long breath. My hand slightly trembles as I lower the burner’s temperature. Meanwhile, Gavriil covers the sauce pot and lowers the flame. He sets the timer.
And now, we wait.
I grab a stool by the kitchen island and sit there, leaning my elbows on the counter when a couple of chilled shot glasses slide down the marble slab and stop in front of me. My head swings to Gavriil. A hint of mischief glints in his dark brown eyes. He’s ready with the bottle of vodka in his hands.
I take my glass and silently tell him to fill it up. Fierce as a wildcat, he leans over the table, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he teases. His demeanor is quiet and self-possessed, as usual, but bolder.
I throw him a knowing look, faking all the confidence I’m lacking. “Areyou?” I tell him.
Gavriil licks his lower lip, delighted. “Is that a challenge?” he says, cracking the clay seal with his bare hand. He pours the drinks.
“Just one for you,” he says, handing me my shot glass.As if.“Za vstrechu.”He raises his drink to eye level. “To our meeting.” Gavriil tilts his shot towards me. We clink the glasses and it’s magic. I can’t understand it, but the air between us suddenly becomes electrifying.
We take the shots. To him, it slips like water down his throat. To me, it burns and I can’t help grimacing. I see him watching me. The way he kills the smile already blooming on his silken lips... He pours himself another drink.
“Hey,” I whine.
