When he put it like that . . .
Down on the ground, a nondescript driver opened a door for me, but Sevastyan was the one who assisted me into the backseat.
Inside, a privacy screen separated us from the front. The tinted windows were so thick, I figured they had to be bulletproof. Sevastyan sat across from me—as far away as possible. As we pulled out of the airport, he refused to look at me, just kept his gaze focused out the window.
“So where is Kovalev’s place?”
“Outside of the city, on the Moskva River. Around an hour away.”
We were going to be trapped in this car together for an hour? With him in that mouthwatering GQ suit?
When we turned onto a larger road, I pried my gaze from him, longing to experience this new country. I glued my forehead to the window to see the sights, but all we passed were warehouses that could’ve just as easily been in America. Only the Cyrillic lettering differentiated them. “Will we drive through Moscow?”
“Not today.”
“I’m not going to see the city?”
“Nyet, Natalie.” Hard no.
In a defeated tone, I said, “Not a single onion dome?” I’d always loved viewing pictures of those quintessential Russian domes, so brightly colored and bold—even before I’d seen the two tattooed on his bicep.
“Perhaps you will,” he said in an enigmatic tone.
Silence reigned; industrial parks dominated for mile after mile. The ride was a special kind of hell. “It’s warm. Can I crack the window?”
“Out of the question,” he snapped.
I crossed my arms over my chest. If I’d had a flower in hand, I would have plucked its petals: he wants me; he wants me not. Last night I’d been convinced he desired more with me. Today, not so much. “I want to talk to you about what happened on the plane.”
With a glance at the privacy screen, he lowered his voice to say, “We agreed to put that behind us.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“No, we did not agree. You suggested it, and I vetoed. Besides, you’re still thinking about it too.”
“Why would you believe that?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Because you’ve been shifting in your seat, and you’ve kept your coat buttoned in this warm car. I’ll bet you’re hard behind that material.”
He didn’t deny it.
“You’ve got to be thinking about it, because I can’t stop.”
“Try,” he said dismissively, turning away from me once more.
“It’s difficult when my every movement reminds me of what we did.” Because of this delicious, new, secret soreness. I admitted, “My ass feels like I’ve been horseback riding for the last two days.” And I wouldn’t trade the experience, or the twinges, for the world.
Gazing out the window, he languidly curled his lips, his expression the epitome of masculine satisfaction.
Oh, that breathtaking grin. Heart. Beat. Skipped. Was that manly pride on display because I was still feeling his corrections? His face was always so unreadable; he must truly relish what he’d done to me.
If he felt a fraction of the attraction that I did for him, then how was he denying himself a repeat? Maybe he routinely experienced that kind of pleasure with others. The idea made me seethe. “I guess you do things like that all the time with tons of different women? I suppose I’m one of many.”
“You’re not like the women I’ve been with.”
He’d said as much to me last night. Day and night. “How so?”
Nothing.
“Tell me.”
He shrugged. End of discussion.
Fine. “I need to talk to you about logistics. Now that we’ve sorted out my clothing selection—”
“It’s not sorted. That was merely to get you through the day. An extensive new wardrobe will be provided for you.”
When he said things like that, I wished I was more interested in fashion. And, well, money.
“Am I going to get a phone? I need to call my professors.”
“I’ve e-mailed all of them, explaining that you had a family emergency and must travel. Duration unknown.”
“You wouldn’t!”
He raised his black brows. Wouldn’t I?
He’d basically unenrolled me. Even though I’d already planned to arrange for incompletes, this high-handedness rankled.
“You’ve always been responsible with your department,” he pointed out. “It would be unusual for you to disappear without a word.”
“They won’t buy it.”
“They will when the e-mail came from your address.”
“That’s what you were doing while I was in the bath! I heard you come in earlier last night.”
No denial.
So he’d been at my computer, steering my entire life, when he’d heard my whimper, deciding to check that out as well? Did he have no boundaries?
God, so much had happened since then. It felt like weeks ago that I’d been at that bar with my friends, probably because my life had changed more drastically in twenty-four hours than it had in the last six years—since my dad had died and I’d realized how short and precious life was. Since I’d started my quest.
My nervousness about this entire situation returned full-force. “Okay, what about my living arrangement? Where will I stay? And how long are we looking at?”
Sevastyan cast me a puzzled glance. “You will live with Kovalev at his home. Once it’s safer, you’ll come and go as you please.”