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I’d almost told him that, but then he looked at me, really looked at me, and his eyes went soft with emotions he no longer tried to hide, and I felt it all the way down to my ribs. I would walk on coals of fire if he asked me to after giving me that look.

Who would have known that “soft romantic pakhan” was my kink?

So now I was standing in the living room, scarf wrapped around my neck because he insisted I would need it despite my whining that it would hide my ink, waiting like an obedient puppy while he finished tying the laces of his boots.

“Are we going to murder someone?” I asked. “Please, please say yes.”

His lips twitched. “Not tonight.”

“Rob a bank?”

“No.” He looked up at me. “Who the hell tries to rob a bank?”

I smirked. “I might not have told you, but I do questionable shit when I’m bored.”

“Then you must be bored all the time.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he huffed a laugh. “Are we at least going to kidnap someone? I think we were way too easy on Mancini last night.”

“Fine. You can say I’m kidnapping you for tonight’s date.”

I held out my wrists together toward him. “Then at least make it convincing. Some ropes and a gag would be good. I’m easy to please.”

Stas rose to his feet, grabbed both my wrists, and pulled me into him. “You want to be tied up and gagged?”

I moaned. “I’m practically begging here. Give me something, man.”

“Fine.” He dropped a pathetic kiss on my lips that made me scowl. “If all goes well tonight when we get back home, I’ll gag and tie you to the bed before I take advantage of you.”

“Can’t we skip the date and go straight to the kinky stuff?”

“No, brat.” He released my arms and headed straight for the door. “Come on, and put away the pouting. It’s not going to work on me tonight.”

I didn’t pout any less as we walked out of the hotel room together. We hopped onto the elevator, joining an elderly woman who was already inside.

“Say, Stas.” I leaned into him. “When you tie me up later, you’re going to ride me, right?”

The woman gasped, and Stas shot me a glare as if I’d said something wrong. People were way too uptight about sex. I wasn’t even being explicit. I’d said it in the most vanilla way possible.

The lady burst out of the elevator ahead of us, practically sprinting for freedom. Stas shook his head, reached out, and settled his hand on my lower back as we stepped through the doors. That touch, steady, possessive, thoughtless in the way only sincerity could be, was going to kill me someday.

Outside, fat snowflakes drifted lazily through the Kansas City night, the cold air cutting sharp and clean while the streetlamps burned everything in warm gold. Stas shoved his free hand into his coat pocket and set a steady pace down the sidewalk.

“We’re walking?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s not far from the hotel.”

Stas took my hand. Casually. Naturally. Like it wasn’t the most intimate thing he’d done all day. Yes, we’d fucked several times, but my hand in his…

That was different and dangerous. Sex was easy. Bodies were easy. But this? This quiet weaving of fingers in the middle of a snowy street was the kind of intimacy that could level empires.

“Your men following us?” I asked.

“Yup.”

I squeezed his hand. “You don’t think this will weird them out?”

“They’ll get used to it.”