The Darkest Temptation (Made 3)

“I wanted to.” He said it as if when he wanted to do something, he did it, and I shouldn’t even be questioning him. It was a little intimidating, so I didn’t press the matter further.

“Well, thank you . . . for everything.”

He turned his head toward me, and the look in his eyes was thoughtful but also tinged with something so profound my heartbeat tripped over itself. He didn’t say anything until we stepped outside and I shivered as the cold rushed through my sheer cardigan.

“Where is your coat?”

I should have bought one while I was out today, but Ivan’s phone call and the impending maybe-date had pushed the need to the back of my mind.

“I lost it . . . last night.”

His eyes flickered with recollection and then darkness. He slipped off his wool suit jacket and put it on my shoulders. It was heavy, and it smelled so good my blood warmed, descending to a spot between my legs. He wore a dress shirt and vest underneath it, but still, it was a bitter cold that singed my lungs with each breath.

“What about you?” I asked.

A hint of amusement touched his voice. “As you said, kotyonok, I am very Russian.”

How silly of me to think this man could ever get cold. He was a dark force of nature, heated by testosterone and muscle. He was probably hot all the time.

Albert leaned against a car at the curb smoking a cigarette. Ronan opened the back door and held out his hand to me while saying something in Russian, his attention on Albert. When I only stared at the hand he offered, his gaze came my way. My shallow breath misted in front of my face as I slid my hand into his. Ivory and tan skin. French-tipped nails and tattoos. Soft and rough. The difference flared in slow motion. Dark eyes, slightly narrowed, dropped to our hands before he helped me to step off the curb and into the car.

Silence and his presence crowded the back seat. Ronan’s arm brushed mine, the small contact taking hold of my entire body. An electric current fizzed like that green can of soda in the space between us.

He kept his gaze out the window, but I couldn’t stop drinking him in. How his shirt and vest fit his body like a second skin. The way the black fabric molded his thick arms and chest. Every inch of him seemed hard and formidable. A curious heat inside of me craved to run my hand down this stranger’s stomach and find out if it was as tight as it looked. I’d never felt an attraction like this, and my inexperience threatened to bubble over like a pot of boiling water.

During the ride, he never looked my way once. I wondered if he felt anything I did, or if he only saw me as a nineteen-year-old responsibility.

We pulled up to the curb of a quiet building with gold doors and dim lighting. It didn’t look like our destination, but I held in my questions while Ronan opened the door for me. It was a department store, with marble floors and a sparkly chandelier, and it sat empty except for one wide-eyed saleswoman who stood behind a glass counter.

“I think they’re closed,” I said quietly.

A corner of his lips tipped up. “Pick out a coat, kotyonok.”

I stared at him for a moment, my breath slowing in surprise. Get this fangirl some markers.

Heels clicking on the marble, I walked toward a clothing rack and ran my hand down a mink coat so soft it challenged my principles. Anything here would cost an absolute fortune. I wouldn’t be surprised to find three zeroes on the price tag.

With my back to him, I said, “I hope attacked tourists don’t end up at your door often, because this is turning into a very expensive venture.”

His only response was a smile I felt on my spine.

I turned to tell him

I couldn’t accept this, but when my gaze met his, my breath twisted in a knot, the space between my heartbeats zapping like a hot wire. Ronan’s hands rested in his pockets, his watch glinting in the low light. His eyes burned deep, dark, intimidating, but I knew up close, they were an entrancing blue.

I swallowed. “I can’t let you buy me a coat. It’s too much.”

His gaze flickered with displeasure. “Nobody tells me what I can or cannot do.”

I believed him with every cell in me.

What did he do, exactly?

I bit my lip and admitted, “I don’t do fur.”

He raised a brow and drawled, “Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian too.”

“Ah . . .” I gave him an apologetic smile. “Vegan.”