Page 47 of Frequency of Attraction

But even if the world frowned, Quinn didn’t care. Something had shifted. She didn’t just want orgasms from Vadim anymore. She wanted it all. And she really didn’t want him to know. Hence, the escape to the piano, where there were just keys and pedals. Nothing to wonder about. Nothing to want.

Once, she’d thought she’d heard him behind her while she played, but when she’d looked, there had just been an empty doorframe.

Vadim, she assumed, spent the rest of the day immersed in the manuals he’d brought along. The man seemed determined to prove to himself and everyone else that he didn’t need to be experienced to be great. Besides the gym, for which he clearly had an affinity, she didn’t think he did anything besides study. She’d never seen the TV on in his apartment, and the only reading materials on his nightstand were Stratos reports.

Work, sleep. Quinn had let that become her life, too. She’d purchased this beautiful brownstone so she could find better balance and make her own life outside the influence of her family. After this weekend, she had a clearer idea what she wanted that to look like.

She finished up the score fromAmélieand stood, stretching her back and neck.

She paused in the kitchen for another one of the Russian pastries Baba Mila had brought them. Bert, the PI, had been right: the apple cake was butter-and-spice heaven. Wiping crumbs from her lips, Quinn moved to her bedroom. Vadim lay stretched out on the bed against the stack of pillows, binders spread around him. The glasses were back on, and her stomach had things to say about that.

She quietly backed away. Online shopping next to him on her bed would be a step too far past the line he’d drawn. Vadim didn’t date. He didn’t snuggle after sex, that afternoon being a rare exception. He just handed out orgasms like party favors and went about his day. Earlier, for a moment, she’d thought she’d seen something in his startling blue eyes while they’d made love. Something like gratitude but more saturated. Since then? Only silence.

Settling on the couch instead, she flipped open her iPad. This place needed more furniture. A real guestroom, for starters. Not that sharing a bed with Vadim had been a hardship. He didn’t snore and he smelled like heaven. She added a bedroom set, linens, and random décor to her cart in her favorite online furniture store. Obviously, they’d need a mirror or two. Quinn let her finger hover over the Baby & Kids section of the website. She just wanted a peek. Which led to a whole cart full of purple furniture she knew Mila would love. Which she also knew would have to sit there forever waiting to be purchased.

Vadim wasn’t hers, and neither was little Mila.

Sighing, Quinn snapped the tablet shut. Her stomach had been growling for well over an hour. They’d had emotional days, both of them, but they still needed to eat. She went back upstairs to her second-floor bedroom, where, hours ago, Vadim had carried her after the hottest kiss of her life.

“I’m starving. Feel like some dinner?”

“I could eat.”

His deep voice after hours of silence sent goosebumps across her skin.

“I spotted a French restaurant on our walk earlier. Feel like French?”

A smirk lifted his lips. “Always.”

Quinn raised her eyebrow. “Is that innuendo?” ShewasFrench, after all.

He just chuckled. “I’ll get dressed.”

After his second shower of the day, he’d changed back into sweats and nothing else, the sexiest look on the fucking planet. She could stare at that carved, patterned torso for the rest of her days and never tire of the view. Though when he met her downstairs ten minutes later, Quinn had to redefine “sexiest look on the fucking planet.” The man decimated the T-shirt he wore. The fabric could barely contain his arms but showed his trim waist perfectly. In black on black, Vadim was sin and sex in monochrome.

“Merde,” she whispered to herself.

Quinn had added strappy snakeskin heels to her pink skinny jeans and white blouse. Vadim’s searing gaze took her in from her bare toes to the sleek pony. She had to fan herself more than once on the walk to the restaurant, and it wasn’t from the humidity.

Being fairly early, they got in without reservations, though they were seated next to mostly elderly diners.

Vadim ordered cassoulet. Quinn ordered steak frites. With interest, she watched him take his first bite.

“What?”

“I’ve never seen you eat before.”

“And?”

Everything he did was sexier than it should be, including using a fork, but he didn’t need to know that. His signature smirk told her he might already know what she was thinking.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked.

“You. Last night. Multiple orgasms.”

She gave an involuntary shiver. First with his mouth, then immediately after with his fingers. She remembered.

“Can we talk about something else?” she hissed. She had to wiggle in her chair to try and cool the fire he lit just by opening his damn mouth.

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