Page 35 of Pay the Piper

Me: No, no, you don’t need to do that.

Me: Um…I guess I can come to your place if that’s okay?

Misha: That’s perfect. I’ll see you at 11 🙂

Misha sends me his address, and I type it into Maps right away. I’m not familiar enough with the city to identify the good and bad areas from the address alone. I would assume he lives somewhere nice, being so close to the Santoris, but he’s still involved with the Mafia, so you never know.

The street view finally loads, and wow. Nice doesn’t do this area justice. This is the city’s most affluent area. Ironically, it’s as safe as it gets. It’s exactly where Conor and I would be if we lived in Thunder Bay. My condo is in a nice area too, but we had to make it somewhat believable for a librarian. Even one with a little inheritance from her “dead parents.”

Throwing the covers off, I hop out of bed and grab my robe. There’s no use pretending I’m going to sleep now. It’s still dark out, and I should have just enough time to brew a pot of coffee and sit on my balcony to watch the sunrise. It’s something I used to love doing, many years ago. It used to symbolize a new day of possibilities, but since marrying Conor, it’s only been a reminder that I have to carry on for one more day. Today feels like the former, though. A new day with endless possibilities. I wonder if Misha enjoys watching the sunrise. Maybe he’ll be watching it too, thinking of me. I certainly can’t think of anything except him.

I’m fifteen minutes early, but my nerves got the best of me, and I couldn’t wait any longer. With a deep breath, I scrounge up the courage to knock, but before my fist makes contact, the door flies open.

“Lesnaya, you look beautiful,” he says, smiling down at me and taking my hand that’s still held up to knock on his door. “Come in.”

Wow, his place is nice. Floor-to-ceiling windows boast sweeping views of the city. The calm, refined decor features soothing colors and textures that flow through the open-concept living area. And he wasn’t lying about being clean. Immaculate is more like it.

“Wow, this is…wow.”

Misha chuckles, his hand gentle on the small of my back as he guides me to a kitchen island barstool. “I admit, it’s not bad.” He pauses while I take my seat. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea, a snack?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you, though.”

Misha props himself up across the island from me. “How was your weekend?”

“All I did was read, so it was pretty boring really. What about you?”

He smirks. “That depends on the book, don’t you think?”

The book in question was, indeed, not boring at all, and I blush thinking about some of the scenes. A tall, tatted, experienced man who rides a motorcycle and would burn the world for his woman was exactly what I needed after Friday. I had just the man to imagine, too. Misha fits the description almost perfectly, although I don’t think he owns a sex club like the man in the book. I don’t even think those exist...

“Ha! So it wasn’t a boring weekend after all.”

Rolling my eyes, I toss the first decorative pillow I can reach at Misha. “What did you do?”

“Uh...also pretty boring, but no fun book.”

The conversation continues clinically, a stark contrast to our normal goofy camaraderie, until it eventually tapers out into silence.

I’m looking down at the island, playing an imaginary beat on the quartz with my fingers when I feel his presence.

“Stand up.”

My body follows his command, and before my conscious mind has the chance to register his words, I’m off the barstool and on my feet. The moment I’ve found my footing, he’s there, not a hair’s width of space between us, and I relish the heat from his body. It floods into me like lava, going straight for my aching core. I’ve been this close to him before, but usually with skates on, and I somehow attributed his height to the extra inches of the blades, but it’s not them at all. At least a foot of difference between us puts his chest at my eye level, and what a chest it is. Even behind the fabric of his shirt, his muscle definition is clear…and I need to feel it.

Misha’s grip falls to the small of my waist as my hands find their target. My breath falters as they trace his muscles, starting at his chest and working their way up to his neck and down his shoulders.

“Look at me, darling.” He squeezes me gently before moving one of his hands to my chin and lifting my gaze to his. “You’ve told me your opinion on sex, but do you pleasure yourself?”

My voice betrays me and even movement seems impossible, but I’m able to give the slightest shake of my head as I stare dreamily into Misha’s gray eyes. His half smile is my final undoing, and I melt into his embrace. If I died now, I would die a happy girl. My eyes flutter, but Misha doesn’t let me close them. He pulls my chin up to his as he leans down, bridging the gap between us.

“Don’t you dare shut those gorgeous eyes of yours, lesnaya. I need them more than I need air.”

They open wide, shocked at his praise. He’s so close now I can feel his smirk better than I can see it.

“You’re such a good girl, minding me so well…This one is all you, sweetheart.”

His lips antagonize me as I nod, but despite how badly I want his kiss, he doesn’t take it any further. Instead, he gently takes my hands, wraps them around his neck, and lifts me with ease before walking me over to his couch.