Page 15 of Loved By the Hacker

“It is.” I glanced at the food. “It all looks so good.”

“Mouthwatering,” he muttered, and when I glanced up at him, he wasn’t looking at his food but at me.

“Oleg.” When I whispered his name, he made a guttural sound. He leaned in closer, so close his forehead touched mine and his nose nuzzled against mine.

“Tell me to back off,” he rumbled. His breath tickled my lips. “My beautiful butterfly needs to tell me to back off right now before I try my damndest to kiss that red lipstick off your perfect lips and let the food get cold,” he warned, but it sounded like a challenge to me.

One I wanted to accept.

“Kissing the lipstick off me might be hard,” I responded with a flirty lilt in my voice. His nose flared and his eyes darkened.

“Why’s that?” His gaze bounced from mine down to my mouth.

“It’s meant to be transfer proof,” I shared in a challenging tone that surprised me.

“Fuck.” And without skipping a beat, Oleg’s mouth was on mine.

He kissed me, hard!

Devouring me like he needed my lips on his, not just for pleasure but to survive. I’d never been kissed that way. With so much fervor and passion that time literally ceased to exist, and I truly forgot my name or where we were. My hands tangled in his hair, loving the way his thick longish curls felt between my fingers. I moaned at the feeling of how soft it was compared to his hard chest that was pressing against me. I was dying to climb up onto his lap but for some reason couldn’t. When he pulled way and ended the kiss, I opened my eyes slowly. That was when it hit me. Not only were we in a public space, but there was a table in front of us, and that’s why I couldn’t get to his lap.

“Jesus,” he groaned, almost like he was in pain. “One taste of you goes straight to my head.” He shifted, and my eyes dropped down and widened.

“You’re hard,” I whispered, and he grunted.

“What do you expect when you kiss me like you mean it?”

“But…” I hesitated. “I’ve never… I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone hard from just kissing,” I confided quietly. His nose nuzzled against mine for a beat before he leaned in and his lips touched the shell of my ear. The buzzing inside my body grew louder with that simple touch.

“That’s because you’ve been kissing the wrong people,babochka,” he rasped, and I shivered. “Just thinking about you makes me this way.” My stomach chose that very moment to embarrass me by growling almost as loudly as the people around us. “You’re hungry.” He pulled away and pointed at our dishes. “We should eat.” We picked up our forks, and when mine was halfway to my plate, he leaned in so close I swear all I could feel, all I could smell was Oleg.

“I’ll try again later to kiss that red off your lips,” he promised. Heat hit my face. It wasn’tI might try,but hewouldtry again later, confirming that whatever was going on between us wasn’t done.

Not by a long shot.

Somehow, after that, we ate.

While we enjoyed our perfectly grilled salmon filets and roasted veggies, the conversation flowed so easily, it felt like I’d known him forever. Or better than anyone else. I had no idea what kind of magic he’d spun to make me feel that way. If you weren’t in my circle, it took me a really long time to trust you. He told me he owned and operated a security company that not only helped companies but private citizens with bodyguards and other security needs.

He didn’t dive too far into the topic of his company, but it was obvious with how he spoke about it that he enjoyed it. And it was obvious by the black card he had handed Bash earlier that he was successful at what he did. Conversation flowed easier by the minute. I told him about what I did and my family. He told me a little about his. Or what he knew about them. His grandparents had immigrated to the States from Russia and settled in New York. But when he was a baby, his parents had died, and for a while, he had lived in the system until one of his aunts found him and raised him. His aunt and cousins still lived in New York, and he traveled a lot for work.

‘So, if you do what you do and your business could be literally anywhere in the world, why are you in Moonlit Pines?” I asked, growing more curious by the moment. He looked at me and shrugged.

‘I had a case here.”

“A case?” I repeated and leaned in closer, like he was about to share some kind of dirty secret. “Someone in the Pines needed a bodyguard? Was it the Storm family that bought the resort? Or were you investigating them?” He chuckled and wiped his lips.

“You’re a beautiful curious little butterfly, aren’t you?” I blushed at his sweet term of endearment.

“Maybe a little.” I shrugged. “So?”

“I can’t talk about a case and tell you any details. You, more than anyone, know all about the importance of client confidentiality. But I can share it ended a couple of months ago.”

“Oh? Was everything okay?”

“Perfect, actually.” He chewed on his bottom lip and cleared his throat.

“The case ended, but you stayed?” He nodded, pointing to my plate.

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