Page 24 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

Tikhon was right about the place. If there was something there, and it turned out that the girl was testing suggestive waters with me, then the restaurant was a perfect spot for an intimate evening.

Soft music floated through the air, and twinkling lights were strung up around the patio.

My head dipped for the hundredth time to the jade watch on my wrist, and I heard the sound of high heels clicking on the stone floor.

Our reserved table was close to the entrance for good measure. I’d been fixed on this goddamn chair for half an hoursince 6:50 PM, and more than a dozen heels had threaded on the stone floor.

But this one was…somehow distinct. It forced my head up, causing a collision with a vision of loveliness in the dim light. The hands on the clock seemed to slow down.

Aw…shit.

Something shifted in my head, above and below.

Fuck.

For the first time in years, my head blanked, and I lost touch with my vocabulary.

I was officially fucked.

This was the first time I’d seen her look like this. Like anything but a daredevil she-man who didn’t tolerate mediocrity and results below her standard.

Swishing her slender curvy hips towards my table was a fucking woman—a temptress on the loose to make all men bow to her feet and kiss her red-painted toenails. I didn’t fancy a feet fetish, but the sight of hers peeking from her black pointy designer heels made my cock twitch and mouth water.

If I thought she was pretty before…fuck, pretty. She was so fucking gorgeous, so fucking sexy, my throat dried up from the insufferable heat, and I snatched the bottle off the table to refill my glass. Majorly to cool the fuck down.

Jesus.

Her shoulder-length dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night, and her warm smile when she saw me lit up the entire rooftop. Clearly phony, but…still.

Hazel eyes, the color of mocha, with flecks of golden brown, seemed to sparkle like sunlight filtering through a forest canopy.

It stunned me that I’d committed those eyes to memory, memorizing every detail. The color was rich and warm, like a perfectly brewed cup of coffee on a crisp autumn morning. Theedges of her irises seemed to fade into a soft greenish gold, giving her eyes a mesmerizing depth and complexity.

Was I ever going to tire of admitting that Leonora Colombo was stunning, with porcelain skin and full lips that forced thoughts into my head? Plus, that fucking mole that somehow just heightened her uniqueness?

Was I ever going to tire?

I was an honest man, so…fuck no.

Her slender figure was accentuated by a fitted silk black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places and hung slavishly low to the dip above the curve of her ass. I could tell by the bare glimpses of her tiny waist on each side of the flimsy fabric.

As she approached, I could see the subtle sparkle of silver jewelry around her neck and wrists, adding a touch of elegance to her already radiant presence.

And when she sat down, the realization dawned that I wasn’t the only man ogling the goddess. Almost every fucking living thing with a dick had their heated gaze trained on her like laser beams.

And when she pretended not to notice, fixing her gaze solely on me, I drank in all the attention like a thirsty motherfucker with an impressed grin.

Fuck. Me.

“Sorry, I’m late.” Confident as always, she slid into the chair across from me.

I shook my head, still feeling a little dazed by the impact of her beauty. “I’m starting to think you’re worth the wait.”

Flirting. I was flirting. When was the last time I flirted with anyone? Since…that’s right, high school.

She laughed, a throaty sound that did more harm to the strain between my legs than any good, and the whole reaction was confusing as shit and annoying.

I lifted the bottle and eyed her empty glass. “Care to start the night?”

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