Redemption

ChapterTen

RAVEN

“Where are we going?”I finally think to shout over the roar of the engine. Not that I care. As long as I’m home before Janna wakes up, I could quite happily speed around town with him all night.

He doesn’t look away from the road, giving me an opportunity to shamelessly stare at him. The more I’m around him the more I feel it in my bones that there is something hiding in the shadows between us. Ever since I met him I’ve had this bizarre sensation that there’s a gaping hole in my being that needs to be filled. It’s primal. It’s a longing. I’ve never experienced such a feeling before. It is as if I have walked for ages looking for this ‘thing’, but never even knew I was looking forit.

“Do you like Serbian food?” heasks.

“I like all kinds of food.” It sounds better than admitting I’ve never had Serbian food, or even know any Serbian dishes.

“Excellent. We are going to a Serbian restaurant.”

“Is it safe to assume you’re aSerb?”

He looks over at me for a moment and I feel a tightening in my belly. The heat in the car increases exponentially and dark desires swirl aroundus.

“My father was,” he says shortly, and turnsaway.

It’s easier to relax when he turns his attention back to the road. I don’t ask any more questions and he doesn’t offer any tidbits of conversation, just keeps us moving forward, shooting us around corners, down darkened streets, buildings speeding by my window in a blur of grey. A couple of cameras flash their blue light.

“That’s your third ticket,” I say after the third flash. Does this guy not have to pay his traffic fines?

“Yes,” he agrees pleasantly, and continues to speed us down to the East End of London. I’m not familiar with the area and I look around curiously. He brings us to a sudden stop in front of a small restaurant with Zlatibor written in faded yellow across the top. It has red awnings that are badly in need of a clean.

The car doors glide upwards, and before I can work out the least graceless way to climb out of such a low-slung car, Konstantin is already standing outside my door, his hand stretched out tome.

His fingers curl over the back of my hand, the warmth of his touch quickening my heartbeat. I feel the power in his hand as he hauls me out of the car. He holds on to my hand even when I am on my feet, and stares down at me with his signature cryptic look. I can’t read him. At all. Can’t even begin to imagine what’s going on in that marvelous blond head ofhis.

He lets go of my hand and presses a button on his remote control. The car doors close, and he lightly lays a hand on the small of my back and propels me towards the entrance of the tiny restaurant.

“Don’t let the shabby appearance put you off. The food is amazing,” he says as we enter.

A bell jingles lightly over our heads as we enter a cramped, dimly lit dining room. It is more than half-full, but I can immediately discern that there is not a single conversation amongst the clientele being conducted in English. There is a large flat screen TV on one wall and it is playing a sports video. The colors remind me of technology from the eighties. The air is infused with the rich smell of roasting meats.

A waiter emerges through a peeling door and enthusiastically greets Konstantin in a language that I assume to be Serbian. Konstantin replies in the same language. I listen intently to the sounds they make. It sounds almost Russian. Interesting.

I didn’t think this man could get more attractive, but this certainly does it. He leads us to a table in a corner. Our shoes are loud on the bare wooden floor.

We sit down at a table.

He turns to me. “Is there anything you are allergic to or won’teat?”

I shake my head and he turns back to the waiter. I watch his lips form a series of sentences I don’t recognize, spellbound by the delicious smell in the air and the delicious sight of him in front of me. It’s easier to enjoy him when the intensity of his attention isn’t onme.

The waiter returns to the kitchen after a few more moments of indecipherable conversation. I give Konstantin a twitchygrin.

“Some women find foreign languages verysexy.”

He smiles slowly. “Are you one ofthem?”

“I’m beginning to think Iam.”

The waiter reappears with two glasses of wine, sets them on the table on either side of the flickering tealight candle, and disappears again without so much as a word, Serbian or otherwise.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” Konstantin says, lips curving into that tiny smile that tickles the hair on the back of myneck.

I should be annoyed. I don’t like men who order my food for me, but I’m strangely not. In fact, I feel exhilarated. Almost high with excitement. Cindy’s right, it’s been too long since I’ve been with a man. I hadn’t realized how deep that need had become—to be touched, to be kissed, to be burnt up by sizzling passion—until Konstantin brought it humming to the surface. Now that it’s awake, it’s demanding to be satisfied.

The dancing candlelight is playing tricks on me, his eyes seem to glow and his mouth has a cruel twist to it as he lifts his glass. “To good food eatenwell.”

I take a sip of the wine, relishing the taste. “What did you order?”

Konstantin shrugs, a disarming gesture that momentarily makes him seem younger. “It’s a surprise, but if you truly like all kinds of food, you’ll like this aswell.”

“Tell me about you,” I invite.

He smiles and another tingling burst of electricity hisses over my skin. “What would you like toknow?”

“Everything,” I say, but that’s ridiculous. Who asks for everything on the first date? I force a smile. “Anything.”

He puts his glass of wine down and locks eyes with me. “You only need to know two things about me. I’m a businessman and I usually get what Iwant.”

“What do you want?” My voice rasps.

“You.” His eyes drop to mylips.

I laugh with a strange excitement. The sound is loud and raw. “You don’t even knowme.”

He presses his shapely lips together, not quite smiling, his hot eyes unamused. “Then enlightenme.”

“Well, you already know where I work. Stalker.” I giggle, demurely thistime.

He smiles this time, but tightly. Just when I think I’m peeking past the stunningly handsome facade to actually get to know him, he closes up tightly. He can’t put a chill in his eyes, though. That smolder seems automatic no matter what he does with the rest of his chiseledface.

“All right.” I take a deep breath. “My niece, Janna, is the most important part of my life rightnow.”

He doesn’t respond, just lifts his dirty-blond eyebrows to encourage me to continue.

I tell him about Octavia’s diagnosis of stage four breast cancer and how quickly she passed away. I don’t dwell on any part of it. The last thing I need is to end up in a puddle of tears.

“You’re raising your sister’s child on your own?” he asks, his voice incredulous, his eyes narrowed.

I shrug. “It’s not quite as amazing as it sounds. She’s the sweetest most adorable little tornado and taking care of her is really fun.” I crinkle my nose. “Actually, I love her so much I can’t even imagine my life without hernow.”

He stares atme.

The waiter returns from the kitchen, two large trays balanced on his palms. He sets the steaming platters of grilled meat on the table. Delicious aromas fill my nostrils as I stare at the food. He gives each of us an empty dinner plate before exchanging a few words with Konstantin and receding into the kitchen again.

He points to the different types of meat, tells me their names and describes them. There is minced beef enveloped in vine leaves, pickled cabbage stuffed with pork and rice. Serbian beans, roast meat in pastry leaves, lamb baked with eggs and potatoes. Meat patties made from veal and grilled with onions.

As he finishes explaining, side dishes arrive and I laugh. There is absolutely no way two people are going to be able to eat all thisfood.

“Bon appétit,” he says and we begin toeat.

The meat is cooked to perfection and melts on my tongue.

“Good?” heasks.

I nod. Between luscious bites of seasoned meat and grilled veggies I carry on telling him about Janna. It’s a safe topic and easy for me to talk about. Besides, focusing on the munchkin relieves some of the tension building between us. I can still barely look him in theeye.

Often I catch myself staring at his seductive mouth while trying to avoid imagining it tracing a hot line down the side of my neck. He eats slowly, taking small bites and watching me intently as he chews, his light eyes never wavering. I’ve never had anyone pay such close attention to me and what I was saying before.

It works on me like a drug, making me woozy, or maybe that’s the wine. The waiter brought out another bottle while I was chattering on and Konstantin keeps refilling my glass while neglecting his own. I only realize after we’ve finished our meal that he now knows way too much about me, but the only things I know about him is he’s a businessman who always gets what he wants.

The waiter arrives with a bottle of alcohol.

I start shaking my head. “I’d better not have anything else to drink.” My cheeks feel flushed andwarm.

“You can’t say no to plum brandy,” he cajoles.

Plum brandy. “Well, okay then, maybe just one glass.” The waiter pours a generous measure into our glasses.

“Come. We will take our brandy out onto the patio?”

He stands and helps me out of my seat. My legs are wobbly, but I make it without incident through a dimly lit corridor to the rear of the restaurant, and out onto a patio overlooking a small private garden. There are a few tables with lanterns onthem.

“They grow their own herbs and vegetables here,” he tells me, and I realize how close he is. Just an inch away, a centimeter, the distance closingfast.

I turn my eyes to the sight of the rows of plants, afraid to face him afraid of what will happen if I look into his eyes and let any of the raw heat of his appeal get to me. I stare unseeing at the raised beds. That well of need within me deepens. I haven’t kissed a man since Octavia got sick. That’s more than two yearsago.

He touches the side of my neck with a single finger. It obliterates any lingering hesitation. I can’t stop myself, can’t close up again. I turn to face him, lifting my chin, my lips parted. He drops his head to close the distance between us. His arms close around me, pressing me into him. I can feel the glasses of brandy cold and smooth against my back. God. I’m so wet for him. My body opens to him like a needy flower. I’ve waited so damn long … and he’s just what I need rightnow.

Then his lips lock ontomine.

His tongue slides into my mouth. Nothing is sweeter than the taste of wine on his tongue, our warm bodies struggling against each other, trying to get even closer. I want as much of this heat as I can get. That simmering smolder doesn’t just live in his eyes. I can feel it humming beneath his skin, running up the front of hisbody.

I rise up onto my tiptoes, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him instead of thinking, instead of breathing. He grabs my hips and angles me into the hard, muscly length of his body. His erection presses into me. He is so hard andbig.

Mindlessly I rub against his hardness. I’m filled with want. Want. Want. Want. I want to devour him. I want to scratch tracks down his back and tear out handfuls of his hair. I want to live in this intoxicatingheat.

He breaks away, his lips seeking out my neck. Moaning, I tilt my head to give him easier access.

“Come home with me,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling my skin before he starts kissing my neck again.

I can’t locate the words to respond.

I don’t want him tostop.

He lifts his head and kisses me again, deeper this time. My face is hot and I feel as if I’m ready to burst into flames.

“Come home with me,” he repeats, lips moving over mine, hot breath mingling withmine.

I want this man the way I’ve never wanted anyone before. I want to fall into him, letting him take me where he wants to go. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this, but I can’t. “No,” I whisper. “I have to get back for Janna. She can’t wake up without me there.”

He steps back, depriving me of the addictive heat and his musky, intoxicating smell. My fevered brain sees it as a kind of punishment. It takes all I have to keep from putting my hands on him again. I muss his hair and the front of his shirt, nearly pulling it from the front of his pants.

For the first time, he doesn’t look like he just stepped out of the pages of a men’s magazine. Seeing him this way makes me want him even more. I sway, wanting to fall into his arms, but ...

Janna. I have to get home to Janna.

“I can have you home before morning,” he says, purring the words in a luscious whisper.

He wants me as badly as I want him, but he’s keeping his distance, letting the heat rise between us, that sweet, painful need growing between my legs is unbearable.

“I can’t,” I whisper, and though his expression doesn’t change I can see he is disappointed by the rigid set of his shoulders and his eyes. His eyes are always burning with need. Now that I know how hot he gets when we touch, and how good his body feels pressed into mine, how will I ever keep my hands offhim?

His posture relaxes, giving a charming languidness to his long limbs. He runs a hand through his golden hair, smoothing back what I messed up in my frenzied need to touch him and eat him alive. He’s closed up tight again, just that cool, handsome façade locking in whatever he’s keeping fromme.

“When can I see you again?” he asks softly.

“Tomorrow night.” I’m desperate to see him again, even if I do think he’s hiding something important behind an impenetrable wall of charm and smolder.

“I don’t want to wait that long. Lunch?”

My shoulders droop with disappointment. I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I promised Janna we’d spend the day together tomorrow. We’re going to thepark.”

He watches me for a long moment, his warm eyes cooling several degrees to meet the chilly temperature of the rest of his expression. “I’ll meet you there.”

“But I’ll have Janna.”

He shrugs. “I likekids.”

“Okay,” Isay.

A genuinely warm smile pops onto hislips.