Page 60 of Unveiled

Semyon opens the car door. I reach for the handle of the car on autopilot, not processing what I'm doing, when a low growl makes me freeze.

Oh. Right. I don’t open my own door when he’s around.

He reaches for the door to unlatch it, opening it for me. "That was a close one, Anya,” he warns. “Do you really want to have that talk if you disobey me?”

I squirm as a delicious thread of need claws through me.

I’m warming to it.

"What do you have to search back at your home?" he asks me, changing the subject as he slides into the driver’s seat. His car is impeccable, immaculately clean, and not a speck of dust. I note everything. The way it starts right up, the gas tank is full, no flashing lights on the dash indicating it needs to be serviced.

I don't know why I'm focused on these details now. It feels like they matter.

"I'm hoping we can access his computer and the phone that he left behind. My father will be out."

Semyon's jaw tightens as he pulls onto the road and begins to accelerate. "I knew your father before he was an alcoholic. I knew him when he was sober."

I look out the window. "Yeah. Me too."

We don't speak for long minutes. "What time does he usually come home?"

“Later.”

I glance at the clock. We probably have two hours. My nerves rise the closer we get to home—no. Not home. I don’t live there anymore. There’s no small measure of relief when it comes to that.

I don't want Semyon to see the shit I grew up in. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, but now that I'm married and know whathishome looks like, I’m embarrassed.

"You're wringing your hands, Anya." I'm not sure if he's expecting a response when his large hand comes to rest on my knee and gives me a gentle squeeze.

I didn’t realize the way I was nervously tapping my knee, clearing my throat, and tugging at a lock of my hair. Did he actually notice those things too?

His hand slides slowly on my thigh, flexing. I remember the kiss earlier. I remember when I was a girl how badly I would've done anything to have Semyon's attention like this. To have him touch me.

"You kissed me once," I say quietly.

"Jesus,” he curses.

I blink at him in surprise. “What?”

“Anya, honey, I held myself back so “many fucking times,” he says, shaking his head.

I want him to say it again.

"I was obsessed with you, but you were too young for me, and my world was too dangerous.”

I look at him sideways and move his hand further up my leg.

"And I'm old enough now?”

"Yeah, baby, and you’re as fucking dangerous as I am."

Baby.

Me? Dangerous? He cuts his gaze to me, those beautiful blue eyes hidden behind his glasses. "Do I look like the kind of person who exaggerates?"

Thump.

My heart.

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