Evie wiped her sweaty palms against her jeans, then raised her hand to knock. She’d spent an inordinate amount of time getting ready this afternoon. First, choosing a cute outfit, which involved trying on everything in her wardrobe. Twice. Next, she’d had to do her hair and makeup. She wanted to look put together, but not like she’d gone to too much trouble.

Though why she bothered, she wasn’t sure. Alexei had already seen her at her worst.

She stared at the door in front of her, trying not to let her nerves overwhelm her, focusing on trying to hear any proof Alexei was inside. She almost hoped he wasn’t, as it would give her an excuse not to go through with what she’d planned.

She focused on the chipped, olive green paint around the peephole, wondering when the landlord had last had the interior decoration in this place refreshed. If ever.

Sounds came from behind the door, the footsteps she recognised as Alexei’s. The door swung open and her mouth went dry.

He looked utterly delectable. She wasn’t sure what had changed from their first days of meeting, when she’d thought he’d looked like a thug, to now. But today her wits flew from her head at the sight of him. Something tugged deep within her, sending signals to her core. Preparing herself for him. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

She licked her lips. His eyes darted down to follow the movement and her skin prickled with heat.

“Hi,” she managed.

Alexei dragged his gaze up to hers. “Did we have training today?” His voice was rough and guttural, his eyes hot and dark.

She shook her head, slowly. Then she swallowed. Her palms grew even more damp as she remembered what she was here to do. Maybe she should just forget it? Not take the risk, and live the safe life she’d built for herself.

But, no. That was no life. It was just as much a prison as the one Jimmy had forced on her.

She straightened her spine, balling her hands into fists to give her courage. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” she blurted out.

Alexei blinked. Obviously, that hadn’t been what he’d expected. “Like…a date?” he asked.

Evie nodded.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

She nodded again. It was strange. For so long she’d been the talkative one, while he barely said a word. Now, she fell mute as she was overwhelmed by what she was doing. “I can cook,” she told him in a strangled voice. “I make a mean pasta.”

He frowned in confusion. “How can pasta be mean?”

Evie giggled, some of her tension easing as she did so. “It means great. I make a really yummy pasta.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes hot on hers. He cleared his throat and glanced away, and Evie felt a sinking disappointment before he even spoke. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her heart sunk. He’d been upset when she’d run from him. She’d hurt his feelings, ruined things before they’d even began. Of course she had. What man would want a woman so broken she couldn’t even kiss him? What would that mean for their sex life? Would she be completely frigid? She didn’t know, and neither would Alexei. She could hardly blame him for not wanting her.

“Why not?” she asked in a small voice.

Alexei’s gaze snapped to hers and he stepped toward her. Evie stepped back automatically, but he kept coming until she was pressed against the wobbly bannister behind her. He loomed over her, planting his hands on either side of her, his fingers digging into the wood. His muscles bulged as they flexed with his grip.

He stared at her like a predator stared at prey.

Evie gulped.

His breath was hot over hers. His eyes went to her lips, then reluctantly came back to her eyes.

“Because I’m not sure I can resist kissing you.”

He leaned forward, almost as if she tugged him on a string he couldn’t refuse. He was so big, so overwhelming, but for once Evie wasn’t scared.

No, she was something else entirely. Hot. Needy. She wanted him with a force that surprised her. Her breasts ached with wanting his touch. The intense way he looked at her made her wet and ready for him.

Instead of running, as he no doubt expected her to, Evie stepped forward. She pressed herself against him, every inch of her front against his hard body.

Confusion flickered in his eyes, but he held himself still. Waiting.

She planted her hands on his shoulders and lifted herself onto her tip toes so she could reach his lips. Then, slowly, deliberately, she planted a kiss against his mouth.

He was careful at first. He didn’t move his hands from the bannister, but she could feel his arms shift as his grip tightened so hard the old wood cracked. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and Evie moaned. Her hands slipped into his short hair, desperate to find some purchase.

Her nipples peaked where they rubbed against his chest, the friction sending delicious pulls down to her clit. She wanted to wrap her legs around him, grind against him, but knew it was too soon for that. Instead, she revelled in the pleasure that rocketed through her body. The proof she was alive and unbroken.

She lost herself in the feel of his lips against hers. His tongue, his teeth. All calculated to bring her as much pleasure as possible. He grew hard against her, and Evie had her first thrill of fear at the size of him heavy against her stomach. But she didn’t let it stop her. She’d be more than ready for him when the time came.

Finally, finally, his hands left the bannister and snapped to her hips like magnets. He let out a low groan and dragged her against him, locking her in place. She moaned, her head tilting back, and Alexei took advantage to drag his hot mouth down her neck, burying his face in her cleavage. She thrust her breasts out, delighting in the sensation of his mouth there. Wanting more.

A door banged in the distance, and Evie snapped abruptly back to herself. Panting, she stepped back, out of Alexei’s grasp, but he followed her, pressing her against the bannister. She put a hand on his chest to stop him, to test to see if he would stop. He blinked, the lustful haze clearing from his vision, and froze.

“Dinner?” she rasped, still trying to slow her breathing.

He looked around as if just now remembering where they were. Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah. Dinner.”

She grinned, then slipped past him towards her door. When she reached it, she turned back to look at him. His chest still bellowed, and he watched her with eyes hot with unashamed wanting.

Something had broken inside him tonight, that control he held himself under.

And Evie found she couldn’t wait to find out what he might do now he was unleashed.

 

 

Alexei looked in the mirror and tugged on his wrinkled shirt. He turned his head, making sure he’d shaved evenly. He felt like a performing monkey, an animal dressed up in a suit and pretending to be human. He didn’t even know where the shirt had come from, only that he’d found it in the bottom drawer of his dresser and it was in his size. He didn’t do this, didn’t get dressed up.

But some part of him thought Evie was worth the effort. He wanted to prove to her, to himself, that he was a civilised man, and completely under control.

He didn’t own an iron, though, so the wrinkles would have to stay.

He couldn’t delay any longer. He had to go over there, eat Evie’s food, and not launch across the table and kiss her senseless. He could do this. Right?

Frustrated with his nerves—he wasn’t generally nervous about anything—Alexei turned away from the bathroom mirror and walked back into the living room. He picked up the bottle of wine he’d bought in panic an hour ago, realising it would be more polite if he brought something with him. He didn’t even drink wine.

It occurred to him that he didn’t date. He occasionally fucked, but even that was rare. He didn’t like going out, talking to people, and wasn’t very proficient at charming women into his bed. The ones that ended up there usually pursued him, intrigued by his size, strength, and general aura of roughness. And he was more than happy to give them what they wanted.

But all those things would not be of benefit to him with Evie. In fact, he had to fight against them, diminish them in any way he could so she wouldn’t be frightened away.

Slowly, she was becoming used to him. The hot-as-hell kiss in the hallway had been proof of that. He just had to keep himself under control until she completely trusted him. Otherwise there might not be a repeat of that kiss, or a chance for anything more.

And holy fuck did he want more. He wanted to be inside her more than he’d ever wanted anything. He wanted to be over her, under her, against her, any way he could get her. His cock grew hard just thinking of it. Of her moans as he kissed her, and what she might sound like if he made her come. Of what her mouth tasted like, and whether her pussy would be just as sweet.

He felt like a beast, like all his restraint had been sapped away, and now he held onto the last of his humanity by barely a thread.

He just had to keep reminding himself that Evie was worth it. He suspected he was falling in love with her. He couldn’t be sure, since he’d never experienced it previously. Crazy lust, yes. Women breezing into his life like a hurricane and leaving a mess behind, yes. But not love. What he felt for Evie was exactly like what people described. The tumbling of his heart at the sight of her, the fact that he wanted to make her laugh, protect her, keep her to himself. That he’d kill anyone who hurt her and barely blink as he did so.

It was too soon for her, he knew that. He wouldn’t tell her what he believed he felt, not until she was ready.

He sighed and left his apartment, knocking lightly on Evie’s door. She opened it so quickly, he suspected she’d been waiting for him. She looked so pretty it winded him. She wore a bright purple apron over a dress that fell to her knees. She had the silhouette of a fifties pin up in the outfit, particularly with her hair gathered up like that. Her cheeks were flushed—maybe with warmth from the oven, or maybe from seeing him. She smiled, happy to see him, and her eyes roved over his pathetically wrinkled shirt. He felt even more like a lumbering beast at the sight of her.

“You look nice,” she said, eyes on his chest straining the buttons on the shirt. It sounded like she meant it.

“Thanks,” he rumbled. “You look…incredible.”

She grinned at him, and the flush in her cheeks grew darker with pleasure. “Thank you,” she murmured, then stepped aside to allow him entry.

He glanced around the apartment. It was so different than the last time he’d see it. Gone were the shattered objects scattered across the floor, the overturned table. Now, everything was neat and in its place. Though the apartment was like his, in that it was small, dim, and badly looked after by the landlord, she’d bothered to add small touches to make it homier. A picture on each wall, bright watercolours mostly, and small knickknacks in a variety of colours. Purple flowers sat on the window sill in the kitchen.

“Your place is nice,” he said awkwardly after staring around in silence.

“Thank you,” she said again. Then, she plucked the wine out of his hand and went to the kitchen. He followed her, the smells emanating from the stove filling his nostrils. Garlic, maybe, and plenty of herbs. His stomach rumbled.

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Won’t be long,” she assured him.

This felt odd. Domestic. Like he’d entered an alternate dimension. This wasn’t his life, his world. He lived a life of violence and grit. Not pretty flowers on the sill and an even prettier woman in the kitchen.

She served up a plate of what looked like pasta bake, then gestured for Alexei to sit at her tiny kitchen table. Gingerly, he lowered himself into a chair, afraid he’d break the delicate seat, but it held his weight with barely a creak of protest.

Evie served herself, then set a salad bowl between them and sat. She served him salad without asking. He didn’t generally eat salad—unless it was in a burger—but he figured it wouldn’t hurt him. And she’d gone to all the trouble.

After the first few mouthfuls, Evie had obviously had enough of the silence, but Alexei wasn’t sure what he could say. “Tell me about yourself,” she asked. “How did you come to America?”

“To fight,” he replied. “I had some success, but my visa ran out and I could no longer be public.” He eyed her as he shoved more pasta into his mouth, wondering what she’d say to that.

“You don’t have a green card?” she asked, blinking in surprise.

He shook his head.

“Is that why you fight in these illegal matches?”

He nodded. “I only know how to fight. I can’t do it elsewhere.”

“And you won’t go back to Russia?” she asked softly.

An image of his father popped unbidden into his mind. Of the savage look in his eyes after he’d finished beating his wife, Alexei’s mother. Rage gripped him at the thought, an urge to tear the man apart.

“No,” he said shortly, trying to pull himself out of the mire that thoughts of his father often submerged him in. “There’s nothing for me there.”

She nodded slowly. “Not since your mother died?” she asked carefully.

He nodded. “She was the only thing keeping me there.”

Evie leaned over and grasped his hand, squeezing it softly. “I’m sorry.”

He gazed at her, suddenly fiercely glad she hadn’t shared the same fate as his mother. He never would have met her, never would have kissed her, fallen for her…

He tore his mind away and searched for a different topic of conversation. “Food’s good,” he said. “Better than at the diner.”

She laughed. “Thank you, though I won’t tell Bob that. You seemed to like the food there well enough when you came in.”

He raised his eyes and deliberately pinned her with his gaze. “I didn’t go for the food.”

The breath rushed out of her at his words, and her gaze heated. “I’m glad you came,” she whispered breathlessly. “That first night, and every night since.”

He smiled. “Me, too.”

They finished their food, alternately flirting and talking about inconsequential things. By the end of the meal, Alexei was primed, ready to take her to bed and pleasure her until morning. He thought maybe she wanted that, too, by the way she leaned closer to him, finding excuses to touch him. But he had to let her take the lead on that. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Instead, giving her time, he cleared the table and announced he’d do the dishes. He was halfway through when a movement to his left surprised him. Evie slipped under his arm and squeezed herself between him and the sink. Her eyes were hot, intense, and he immediately went rock hard at the sight of it.

“Or,” she suggested, her voice low and deep. “You could take me to bed.”