A million butterflies fluttered against the walls of her stomach. It was all she could do not to press her hand there, but that might give too much away. She hadn’t expected the truth or the raw longing in his voice, and it touched something deep inside her she hadn’t known was there. No man had ever gotten to her the way Mitya did. The attraction was so intense, it scared her enough to make her wary. Yet she wanted him with every breath she drew.
She touched the tip of her tongue to her lip. His eyes followed the action. “Maybe I don’t have to be such a good woman.” She whispered it, meaning it to be humorous, but it didn’t come out that way. Not at all. She ducked her head, wishing the floor might open up and swallow her. She did have to be a good woman, whether she wanted to or not. “I really have to go, Mitya.” Her only recourse to save herself was to run away. Fast.
His fingers around her arm, if anything, tightened. “Hear me out, Ania.”
The door to the shop swung open and a man strode in, another who clearly was his brother just edging in front of him. She knew immediately it was Evangeline’s husband. It couldn’t be anyone else. He looked around the room.
“She’s in the ladies’ room,” one of the bodyguards said. “Ashe and Sevastyan are with her.”
Fyodor nodded to the man, and he and Timur went straight into the restroom. Within moments, Timur was striding out fast, Fyodor behind him, Evangeline in his arms. She was still sick, a bowl cradled in her arms. Ania hadn’t even realized Ashe had brought one into the room when she’d come in, already prepared, already knowing exactly what Evangeline would need.
Ashe trailed after them, her expression worried. She came straight to the table. “She’s going to be all right, Ania. Fyodor will take her home. They have a nurse there, and she’ll give her fluids.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll take care of the late customers at the end of the business run. Come back when things aren’t so crazy so we can visit some more.”
Ania nodded, but she knew she wasn’t going to come back. Mitya was too much of a temptation, and she’d make a total fool of herself over him. She couldn’t afford to lose her heart to him.
When Ashe was back behind the counter making coffee and selling pastries to the newcomers, she turned her attention to Mitya. “Why did you come today? What’s changed between when we first met and now?”
His palm slid down her arm, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand. She knew if she had any sense of self-preservation, she would move it, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to feel his touch. She wanted the slow burn moving through her body. She’d never felt that way. The butterflies. The somersaults. The dampness like a slow-burning fire building between her legs. Her veins felt as if they were filled with hot molasses. Her skin felt electric. Her breasts were suddenly heavy. Hot. Even her nipples reacted, coming to two tight peaks. Aching. His touch did that. Just that thumb brushing over the back of her hand. She would be in such trouble with this man.
“I realized, looking at every single bit of footage we had of you coming into this shop, over and over, staying up at night watching it, that I am an even worse man than I knew myself to be because I don’t want to give you up.”
“We don’t know if we’re even compatible.”
“We know.”
She couldn’t deny that. She also couldn’t deny that he was a criminal. He wasn’t pretending to be anything else. He just put himself out there, all that raw sexuality, that dominant, commanding personality, and thought she would deal. Could she? She had so much to lose. She knew she did, and the number one thing was her heart.
“You don’t even know my last name.”
“You would be surprised at what I know about you.” His eyes didn’t so much as blink, wholly focused on her, almost hypnotic.
“You don’t know the first thing about me, and I don’t know the first thing about you.”
“You know we would burn together.”
She considered that. A night? Could she walk away from him after a night? Her heart clenched hard in her chest. It hurt. Just the way it would when she left him. She’d dreamt of a man like him. Reality and fantasy were two very different things. She’d seen Fyodor’s face when he’d carried Evangeline out of her bakery. He had the look of a man furious that his woman was anywhere but home. She wouldn’t be in the least surprised to read about a fire burning down the shop in the morning.